#but that was why the ambiguity was so good

[luveline]

Spencer’s oldest child (either with reader or previous relationship) wanting to help out with readers baby!

“So…” 

“So,” Spencer echoes, hooking Amy under the arms before she can wriggle away. He props her on the counter, cloth already in hand. 

“About the baby.” 

“What about the baby?” he asks, encouraging her head back gently to wipe her mouth. She’s covered in butter and omelette, a chive stuck to her chin. 

“You know how she’s little?” 

“Yes.” Spencer wipes her face clean very gently. It’s not a good plan, Amy wriggles and squirms away from the warm water and it takes a long time, but Spencer can’t bring himself to be rough. “She’s really little. I know all about it.” 

“And mom is tired.” 

Spencer grins. “Yes, mom is tired.” 

“Can I look after the baby? ‘Cos I’m big?” 

Spencer isn’t in the habit of lying to her, perhaps to the detriment of his own easy life. “Probably not. You are getting bigger, but she’s so little she’s actually quite fragile. We have to be careful to hold her the right way, and to carry her gently, because she’s not done forming. You don’t have the dexterity to do this all the time. Plus, she’s heavy.” Spencer puts the cloth aside. He leans down enough to be face to face with Amy, puckered up for a kiss. 

Amy frowns. Spencer kisses her damp cheek. 

“I do too have dex-trity.” 

“What do you want to do?” 

“I want to look after the baby.” 

“Then who will look after me?” Spencer asks cheekily. 

“Mom.” 

“Okay. Listen,” he takes her face carefully into his hand, wiping at the place where he’d kissed affectionately, “there are ways you can help with the baby. Lots of ways! Stuff we already do, like making dinner, and stuff we’ve been doing to help mom, like washing her clothes and watering her plants.” 

“I love mom so I water the plants, that’s not the baby.” 

“I know,” he says, rubbing her cheek. “That’s why I do it too. But I promise it helps mommy more than you realise when we do this stuff for her.” 

“Let’s do something else.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Spencer opens his arms for her and she latches on like his baby sloth. He used to say it to her all the time, how she was his lazy sloth pup, always on his chest. “How about we ask?” 

He carries her out of the kitchen and upstairs to find you, only you’re not where they left you in the master bedroom. Instead, you're sitting on the floor of Amy’s bedroom with the baby swaddled to your chest. “Oh, hey, it’s big Reid and little Reid.”  

“What Reid does that make you?” Spencer asks. 

“I’m ambiguously sized Reid.” You look down at the baby. “And this is tiny Reid.” 

“What are you doing?” Amy asks. 

“I’m cleaning up your humongous mess, angel.”

“What!” Amy shouts. Spencer laughs at her outburst. “Mom, I’m supposed to help you!” 

“Says who?” 

“Says me! Daddy, put me down.” 

Spencer obliges her and sets her down. Amy runs to you and takes the doll from your hand, to your surprise, sweeping the pile of her dolls away, mixing the ones you’d redressed with naked and ragged ones. You cover the baby’s back, sighing. Spencer knows from experience those dolls are finicky. 

“I was just trying to help,” you say, pouting at her. “It was a big mess, you can’t do it all by yourself, you’re just my little girl.” 

Spencer appreciates the way you say it. It’s good to love someone, but it feels like great luck to have fallen in love with a mom who couldn’t adore her children more than you do. He wanted kids so badly, and your love for them cements a great decision. Amy doesn’t feel so lucky, throwing herself against the side of her bed with a dramatic, forlorn whine. 

You tip your head back as Spencer kneels by your side. “What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He pulls the swaddle from the baby’s face to see her. She’s awake but quiet. Recognition lights her features when she notices his poking, giving him a gurgling smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says to you. “Amy just wants to help today, ‘cos she’s our lovely girl.” His voice turns to sweetness as the baby’s smile widens. “Hello, angel. Hi, hi, hi.” 

“You wanna help me?” you ask. 

Amy pulls her face up from her messy bed sheets. “Yes, please.” 

“Well, nobody’s given me a hug in a while.” 

“I want to help with the baby!” 

“Nobody’s given her a cuddle today, either.” 

“She’s cuddling you right now!” 

“She’s just resting. What she needs is a good hug and a good kiss.” You stretch your legs out in front of you and reach back to pull at the swaddle. Spencer helps before you can stretch your shoulder in the wrong way, taking the fabric down your arms and releasing you from its confines. You cup the baby’s weight in one hand, her head the other, and slide her into your arm. “Come on, best big sister. Come and hold her for me.” 

Amy rushes to do as you’ve said. Spencer smiles to himself and pulls the mound of dolls toward him —there’s a lot of work to do in here, you weren’t kidding about the mess. 

You put the baby in Amy’s lap. 

“Now,” you say, leaning into Spencer’s, arms opening expectantly, “for me?” 

Spencer can’t wait to abandon the doll and bend down over you. He almost pokes your kidney out with a Barbie, but he’s never been any good at resisting you when you ask for a cuddle. It’s not your most comfortable embrace, and yet it’s as perfect as any other, his laugh lost in your shoulder, wrapping his arms behind your back. 

“Keep an eye on the babies,” you whisper. 

Spencer checks that Amy’s holding the baby the right way and makes you into a Reid sandwich. “She told me she is too dexterous.” 

“Did you imply she wasn’t?” 

“I said,” he relents, smiling to himself as you squeeze his waist, “that she’s not dexterous enough to carry the baby all day long.” 

“But how do you know?” 

“I read a couple parenting books a few years ago, I tend to have a pretty good memory.” 

“Do you remember how to rub my back?” you tease, softly, still a little shy after all these years. 

Spencer rubs your back. Amy babbles loving nonsense at the baby for a few minutes, and then complains of being bored and wanting another omelette. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[midnight-pluto]

COMPARISON — scar

You know Scar, and you know why he’s so obsessed with this ‘Rover’ character — he’s told you why, but why does it still hurt watching him act as if he was a lovesick puppy to them?

contains: established relationship, the relationship is lowk toxic, jealousy, insecurity, rovers gender is left ambiguous, canon-ish, swearing, angst, short fic

a/n: scar is so pretty omg; also the lack of scar x reader content is CRIMINAL

‘IT’S JUST FOR the mission, it’s just for the mission,’ is what you kept on repeatedly telling yourself in your mind, but it really doesn’t look like it from your side.

You can tell that this ‘Rover’ is prone to noticing the little things and figuring out everything with just one piece of the puzzle, so you decide that it’s best to keep your distance from the matter at hand occurring in the village.

The conversation they were both having was being played clearly in your ear — a hidden microphone on Scar’s waist, his idea, not yours. He offered up this idea as a way to assure you nothing special was happening, but you wish you would’ve never accepted it in the first place.

Hearing the words Scar say would’ve been sweet, if only they were directed towards you. You weren’t dumb, you could hear the flirtatious undertone in his voice as he spoke to them.

Swallowing thickly, you take a look at the picture given to you previously as to what Rover’s appearance was like; suddenly Scar’s words made more sense in your head.

Their dark hair was disheveled but still managed to look effortlessly good on them; did Scar ever think of you that way whenever he saw you get out of bed? Their clothes complimenting their natural appearance beautifully; did the red and white of your clothes really suit you?

It took you years to achieve what you have with Scar now, but Rover was able to see and receive genuine interest from Scar in just a matter of moments.

Just listening in on their conversation felt like you were the one interrupting something, like you were third-wheeling your own boyfriend, as if you were a side piece in your own relationship.

Embarrassing.

“Huh?” you audibly let out, tapping your earpiece with your gloved finger multiple times. Only the sound of static could be heard. “Shit.”

Scrambling for your binoculars in your messenger bag, you shuffle them out and life them to your eyes to see what has occurred in the village below. Narrowing your eyes, you see that Rover had skillfully disabled the microphone on Scar’s waist with their blade.

“Of course,” you scoff out, dropping your binoculars back in your bag and proceeding to walk away from the scene.

Your terminal beeps and lights up and you pause, seeing that Phrolova had called you. “Leaving so soon?”

Huffing out a sigh at her words, “I see no point in staying.”

Humming in thought for a moment, she merely says, “Alright, go on then.”

The soil beneath your feet crunches underneath you with droplets wetting them at the same time; the sky is clear today.

SCAR’S EYES WIDENED at the sound of the mic clattering onto the ground, falling from his waist. “Well, aren’t you good? I thought you wouldn’t notice it so soon.”

“And I thought you said you didn’t want anybody else intruding on our conversation, seems kind of hypocritical to have a microphone attached at your hip,” they taunt.

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, burying down the feeling in his stomach. “But they too, were special to me, I just wanted to share a conversation with two very special people, and what’s the matter with that?”

“So they’re special to you?” they raised a brow, suddenly interested in the newfound topic raised.

Scar laughed at their attempt to get him to reveal information about himself, but he would never put you in jeopardy like that — never in a thousand years. “Did I say that?

“Well, it’s not like you’ll ever get to find out any time soon,” he stomps on the already broken microphone, smashing it to pieces.

Rover simply rolled their eyes, “Just give me back Yanyang so we can be done with already, I’m bored of your story.”

“And here I thought that we already established,” Scar took a few strides forward, “That you aren’t in the position to bargain.”

Unbeknownst to Scar, you had left your earpiece in, the sound of static becoming wonderful white noise to you. The unfortunate part was that you could only hear a few bits and pieces of their conversation out of context.

“…were special—“ were? What does he mean by that? Why is he using past tense? Is he saying that to fuck with them or because he thinks you can’t hear him anymore? Or are you just reading to far into it?

“..two very special people—“ it should only be one, shouldn’t there? Is he saying that Rover’s already as important — if not more important than you?

Harshly taking out your earpiece, you throw it into the dirt. Unable to let out a frustrated scream you let your anger out through crushing the earpiece under your foot.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you glare back down at the shattered earpiece beside you. Rubbing the corners of your eyes, you begin to walk away, “The white noise wasn’t even that good anyways.”

a/n: not my best work — obviously — since i wrote this in an hour, on my phone, with fake nails. but i was feeling like shit so i dumped it all here, sorry kinda sorry

#rin’s shots 🤎 #scar x reader #scar x you #scar x y/n #scar x gender neutral reader #scar x gn reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa x you #wuwa x y/n #wuwa x gn reader #wuwa x gender neutral reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves x you #wuwa fanfic

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Busy days give cute ideas-

Since the Hotel was rebuilt, Lucifer has stepped up and has started doing Kingly things again. Talking to the Sins- helping them sort out arguments basically- but also helping Charlie brainstorm ideas for bringing in Sinners and activities.

He forgot how busy being a King made him-

Then Reader, a Sinner that came after the Extermination because they saw the King Himself saying to try redemption -plus free room!- grabs him one day without warning, and throws him into bed. Just full on waits on his every need, watches a movie he hasn't seen before but does like, makes lunch and dinner for him, plays card games-

They do everything Lucifer has been seen enjoying. And Reader remembered? He barely spoke to them, but here they are. Being kind to him.

Basically a full day of reasons why he deserves a break, Lilith wasn't anywhere near as caring as he falsely remembered, and that he REALLY needs to get to know Reader now-

Lazy Dayz in a Dreamy Haze

Busy Lucifer x GN!Reader

TW: Overworking, relationship issues, sad feelings

(I am almost positive I made this completely gender ambiguous. Please tell me if I missed something or gendered the reader at all!)

Your fall from grace wasn't anything to really write home about. You were a grade-A lazy person in your mortal life, and that inevitably led to your less-than-amazing death. You could sleep wherever and whenever, find the best binge-worthy shows, and overall, you know how to relax for a good time. 

You were a little confused when you saw Charlie's original broadcast for the hotel. How could you ever be redeemed when your sin is just simply enjoying your free time? This seemed like too high a task for a mere princess to accomplish, not to mention that once word got out that the Radio Demon was helping her, it was even more of a put-off. 

You followed the story, though; Kattie Killjoy documented it every time something happened in Charlie's unsuspecting life. You also were one of the lucky few to witness the downfall of Vox’s pride due to the Radio Demon. 

When the extermination got pushed up to only a couple of days away, you had even more doubts about this redemption policy the princess wanted. When the broadcast showed Lucifer there, ready to strike down, the angels soon to torment more than just the hotel if they didn’t win; something moved in you. 

The following day, you packed up your small things and made your way across the city to the hotel. You didn't expect much when you joined the Hazbin Hotel. You saw that the king endorsed it, and if the king said it was cool, then why not? You didn’t reasonably expect your whole life to change, though. 

Not only did you gain a little family of friends, but you also got free room and board so long as you completed Charlie's exercises and you got to see him. Lucifer Morningstar was a pragmatic character in the grand scheme of things. Where his daughter had illusions of grandeur, he was there to make things happen and make things work. Doing this, however, cost him what looked like a great deal.

Lucfier worked day in and day out. Even though you lived in the same hotel as him, you hardly saw him not doing something for Charlie or one of the other inhabitants. Seeing someone doing so much to make a dream come true and not take care of his own was sad. Maybe this was when the first inklings of your feelings for the king kicked in.

Growing close to the others in the hotel, you eventually learn all about Lucifer's problems in his past, from harboring poor feelings towards his fellow angels to having to deal with losing Lilith and his daughter. Luckily, he and Charlie rekindled some of their relationship, but it was clear Lucifer worked himself to death to avoid thinking about the missing person. Lilith, though a once prominent figure in hell, was still not found, causing a lot of people, including Charlie, to assume she just never was going to come back.

You got confirmation about Lucifer's depression one rainy night sitting at the bar. You were busy talking to Husk about Charlie's upcoming bonding retreat when a groggy Lucifer came down to get a drink. While he sat next to you, the bags and lines around his face were as clear as day. For an immortal being, he looked like he was knocking on death's door. He had been working long into the night to ensure Charlie’s next adventure went on without a hitch. 

You had nothing against Charlie and immensely enjoyed her company. You can only assume Charlie hadn’t given her father a break because he was never this vulnerable around her. You knew Husk had a way to get people to open up, but you were surprised he was opening up in front of you. He looked exhausted, as if sleep had invaded him for nights. You wanted to hug him, wrap him in blankets, and tell him to sleep.

While looking over the man, you noticed a band of gold on his hand that he awkwardly fidgeted with. Taking the context clues and knowledge from those in the hotel, you'd bet that was his wedding band. While watching him drink his fourth glass of whiskey for the night, you leaned over and placed a comforting hand on his. “I know you don’t know me well, but Lucifer, you are doing an amazing job. It’s okay to stop and breathe a little. You won’t be letting anyone down if it’s to help yourself.”

His look was no less than shocked; from what you gathered, no one ever really talked to him in a comforting manner. “Uh, well, thank you, Y/N;  you know I am happy you joined the hotel. You will be an excellent Winner if we can ever redeem a soul.”

That statement struck a cord in you again. Why did he know that you would make a good Winner? He had barely even met you when you joined the hotel. He was always so busy and working that the most you two said to each other on a given day was a small hello. Yet he knew enough about you to tell you would make a great Winner. You didn’t know that Lucifer was paying attention from the beginning of your journey at the hotel. He always said his job was to help make dreams come true, especially his daughters. So when you came along and started helping everyone with your calming aura and comforting ideas, he took extra notice of you. That's why he knew all your favorite napping spots, how you put self-care and rest above everything, and how you wanted to help others as much as he did. 

From that day forth, you looked at the King of Hell differently. Instead of wondering why he was so busy and never saying no, you looked for all the times he grabbed that band. In doing this, you learned he liked to make rubber ducks, enjoyed the circus, had a fixation on apples, loved to sing randomly, and had a knack for helping others. 

Honestly, the last part wasn’t that surprising. Charlie had to have gotten that trait somewhere. With Liltih being AWOL and the stories you heard in passing about the woman, you figured she wasn’t where Charlie's helping streak necessarily originated from. Taking this knowledge, you devise a plan to help the King of Hell finally get some reprieve. 

Executing this plan flawlessly took a couple of days. From finding all the proper materials to convincing Charlie to make sure no one called on Lucifer, you had your work cut out for you. You didn’t know why you cared so much about what happened to Lucifer other than it tugged at your once-beating heart that he was so overworked and undervalued. 

The day finally came for you to stop the overworked man and get him to slow down. As he started his day bright and early, you were already downstairs waiting. His arrival was right on time, and everyone knew that when he asked the dreaded ‘what can I do for everyone today’ question, they all had to say nothing. 

When he heard he had nothing to do, Lucifer returned to playing with that ring on his finger. This was your cue to help him find a better way to distract himself than taking on millions of small tasks. You stood before Lucifer, hand outstretched with a broad smile, “Do you trust me?”

You were met with little hesitance, and before you knew it, you had taken Lucfier up to the day room on the top floor. You had set everything up for the first half of your relaxation day. There was a giant pillow fort taking up center stage of the room. 

Lucifer was taken aback. This was the sweetest thing anyone had done for him. It is a little cozy retreat away from having to work, a welcomed distraction. He was excited to see what your mind came up with. The whole interaction left a warm feeling in his chest, one he didn’t know if he was ready to explore yet. 

Crawling in, you beckoned Lucfier to join you inside and get cozy. The magnificent fort was littered with various comfort foods, cozy blankets, and a TV with what Charlie called his favorite shows. Turning on the fairy lights and TV, you immediately saw the tension in his shoulders begin to relax. 

You two stayed there for hours, watching shows, eating good food, and talking. Lucifer didn’t know when the last time he allowed himself to be this free with another person. You were content making sure he understood how valued he was, but you couldn’t deny the proximity, and the ease of the conversation was beginning to make you feel some type of way. 

When the final movie was put on the TV, you let out a slight yawn. You had never disrupted your sleep schedule and nap time for someone else before, and your body was beginning to disagree with you. Lucifer took note of this and scooted a little closer to you. When you looked up at him, he just patted his shoulder, and you understood he was offering assistance to you.

You laughed gently in your hand, shaking your head. “No, mister. I am supposed to be helping you, not the other way around. Come here.”

As you said this, you repositioned the situation, so Lucifer rested against your chest. Your arms were wrapped around him, and you were gently playing with his hair. Lucifer hadn't complained about this, so you deemed it safe to continue. His hair was soft, with a little gel from when he woke this morning. Eventually, your hand stopped moving as you drifted off to sleep. 

Lucifer was content like this. He hadn’t been held in so long. This was something he only dreamed of doing with Lilith once more. He thought about all these things and felt your hands slow and your breathing even. 

Lifting his head slightly to look at you and not wake you, he realized you were lovely. The thought initially scared him as he hadn’t thought of another since Lilith, but your compassion and kindness were a refreshment. Slowly, he rested his head back on your chest and took a much-needed nap. 

You had woken first, feeling Lucifer tighten his grip subconsciously around you. Smiling, you stroked his hair again as you pulled out your phone. There was still an hour before the final stage of relaxation day could continue. You closed your phone and realigned your attention to Lucifer. 

He looked so beautiful, almost angelic if you were allowed to say that. He let out tiny snores, and you could nearly not see the bags under his eyes. You gently caressed his cheek without thinking, and when he nuzzled your hand, your face lit up. You told yourself he wasn’t ready and to diminish these feelings immediately. 

Once the hour was up, you gently woke Lucifer with a light shake. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, looking at the now-darkened TV. Once he was situated, he got out of the fort with you, ready for you to lead him on the next adventure. 

You strategically chose the top floor for the fort retreat so everyone else could set up downstairs. See, your plan helped kill two birds with one stone. Charlie wanted a fun way to bring in more sinners, and you wanted to help take the stress off Lucifer's plate. In doing so, the Hazbin Hotel Annual Carnival was born. 

As you arrived downstairs, the carnival was in full swing. Flashing lights, games, food, and even a circus event were happening. You turned to look at Lucfier and shouted, ‘Surprise!’ He was astonished that you not only considered giving him a brain break but also made sure to add something physically fun. 

This was particularly useful in two ways: he loved the circus and would be tired when he went to bed if he got worn out at the carnival. You showed him around the carnival with a broad smile on your face. All the regular inhabitants of the hotel were the carnies and some outside friends Alstor enlisted. 

As soon as you explained everything, Lucifer had your hand in his and dragged you around. Though you were still exhausted, seeing this man so happy was well worth it. You participated in the games and the face painting. Lucifer laughed hard when he saw you get his Iconic makeup done. 

As you made it to one of the last games, you found Angel managing the Apple Bobbing contest. With a broad smile, you drug Lucifer over and place your bets on who could get the largest apple. You hoped the newly painted makeup would withstand this trial as you went first. Coming back up with a tiny apple, Angel had to make one of his inappropriate jokes. 

Next, the king himself went for an apple, not before blushing at the lewd comment Angel had made about you. He really needed to teach him that it's okay to keep thoughts inside. As he went down for an apple, he found a golden one and took his chance. Popping his head up, Angel rang a bell, signifying the grand prize. 

Lucifer was handed a giant white snake plushie with a top hat as his winnings. He smiled, holding the cute item, and then turned to you. Gently, he wrapped the snake around your arm and shoulders, smiling wide. Your heart fluttered at the notion that he had given you his grand prize, no questions asked. 

Over the loudspeakers, an excited Charlie could be heard asking everyone to come to the big top for the show. Lucifer was excited that his daughter, as a ringmaster, would entertain all these guests. As you two took your seats in the crowded room, the lights dimmed, and Charlie, in an adorable outfit almost identical to her father's, came out. 

The smile on Lucifer's face when he saw Charlie look and act like him was heartwarming. You could almost see tears in his eyes. Lucifer was notably the most involved watcher of the show, answering questions, raising his hand for volunteer options, and even performing a song with Charlie. It was a fantastic event that left many impressed. 

As the circus act ended, Charlie approached you and thanked you for taking over this task. She had already gotten many people asking to enroll in her redemption program. While Charlie was talking to you, it was missed by all the knowing soft smile Lucifer had while staring at you. He realized that he hadn’t gone to rub his band once this entire day since you showed up.

Looking down at his hand, he moved the band from his left finger to his right. He wasn’t fully ready to let go of Lilith, at least not in the semblance of her being the mother of his child, but he was ready not to let his past hold him back anymore. He walked over to you and Charlie and gently interrupted the conversation, asking to steal you away. 

Charlie said yes, giving you a big thumbs up before she went on her own way, too. You gave Lucifer your full attention again as he led you to the Farris Wheel. Climbing aboard, you two faced each other and began talking like earlier that day. The conversation seemed so fluid for you two, making this a beautiful moment. 

Once at the top of the wheel, there was a sudden jolt, causing you to move forward and land in Lucifer's lap. Both of you laughed gently as you resituated back in your seat. In doing so, however, you noticed his left hand was bare. You panicked, “Where did your ring go? Did it fall when I moved? We have to look for it.” 

Lucifer just laughed at you and shook his head. He showed you his right hand now adorning his wedding band. You calmed down and looked at Lucifer as he explained, “I have never been so well taken care of, Y/N. To say I appreciate you would be an understatement. For seven years of my life, I have lived in this dark shadow that I was at fault for losing all I held dear. Though Charlie has been there trying to help, I still drown myself in work to forget Lilith.”

Lucfier repositioned to sit closer to you, looking you in the eyes, “However, you have impacted my life since the day you arrived. I have been watching you and find your efforts to comfort and help those around you refreshing. I find it so amazing you even took time out for me to plan all of this.”

Lucifer gently touched your cheek as he continued, “I have loved every minute of this day, and as I began to love it more and more, I realized I couldn’t let Lilith control my life forever, especially if she wasn’t here. I am not ready to completely let go; she is the mother of my child, and I hope she is alive and well. I am saying, though, that I am ready to move on and try to live more carefree again. You, Y/N, have been a dream come true.”

Tears welled up in both your eyes as you took in the words. You smiled and reached your hand out to hold his. Hand in hand, you two laughed and looked over all of hell from the top of the wheel. You were happy he finally accepted being free from his past and taking self-care and love for himself seriously. It was also astonishing that you were the one to teach him this. 

As the Farris Wheel ended and let you two off, the darkest point of the night finally hit. Grouping up at the front of the hotel, Lucifer's arms wrapped around you. A beautiful array of fireworks went off while you looked up to the sky. Turning to face Lucifer, you felt like you were living a dream. Who knew Lazy Days would result in a beautiful Dreamy Haze.

#x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbinhotel #hotel hazbin #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lunarwritings #moons #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin angel dust

[defectivevillain]

shivering in the absence

pairing: Dylan Lenivy/Reader

The reader is implied to be transmasculine/nonbinary & has undergone top surgery. Otherwise, no pronouns or physical descriptors are used; race is ambiguous.

summary: “Were you really going to take your shirt off?” Dylan asks, averting his eyes. You get to your feet and take a sip of your water, pretending not to feel flustered by the question. “Did you want me to?” You counter, sounding much more composed than you actually are.

word count: 3.2k | ao3 version

author's notes: So I was watching Friday the 13th and came up with this… then I realized the character I wrote it for was pretty much unimportant… and so this happened. (Hence the Friday the 13th tag) …No horror elements are in this, though!

warnings: stripping/changing clothes, implied hypothermia

“I hate Monopoly,” Abi sighs. 

You nod in sympathy. Abi, Dylan, Emma, and you are all cooped up in Dylan’s cabin for the night. It’s one of the last days that the counselors will remain at Hackett’s Quarry, before you all leave for the summer. The four of you had planned on meeting up before rejoining the rest of the counselors at the fire pit outside, but the unexpected rainstorm that came curbed those plans—leaving you somewhat stranded in Dylan’s cabin. 

“Well, you’ve never played strip Monopoly, have you?” Emma grins, breaking you out of your thoughts. Abi, Dylan, and you exchange looks. Emma notices and sighs. “Come on. It’ll be fun. Besides, it’s terrible outside.” You follow her gaze to the open window across the room. Indeed, there’s a steady rain coming down now. There were a few thunderbolts, but nothing too serious. Unfortunately, returning to your own cabin would mean getting your clothes soggy and drenched. Safe to say, you’re stuck here—and stuck playing strip Monopoly to pass the time. 

“Fine,” you acquiesce. Dylan and Abi follow your lead and surrender too. Emma really is too stubborn for her own good—there’s no way you’d be able to get out of this one. There are just some battles you can’t win, and strip Monopoly isn’t that laborious of a task. It’ll be more embarrassing than anything else. “How do we play, though?” You ask. 

“We strip,” Abi responds with a deadpan voice. Dylan chokes on a laugh and Emma smiles. 

“I got that much,” you huff defensively. “I mean, when? And why?”

“Clothing is currency, pretty much,” Emma explains. “The simple stuff—socks, shoes—are worth less. Underwear is worth the most… You get the idea.” You feel yourself frown and, when you look around the table, Abi and Dylan are wearing similar expressions of apprehension. Emma looks at you three and rolls her eyes. “If you don’t want to take your underwear off, then just play well. Duh.”

“Easier said than done,” Abi mutters. The remark goes unheard by Emma; you exchange an amused smile with Abi and she seems to relax a little. The four of you decide to make Dylan the banker; then, each of you choose your pieces and roll to see who goes first. You end up rolling the highest. Your first turn lands you on Oriental Avenue—one of the properties towards the middle of that first stretch of the board. 

“So… if I want to buy it…?” You trail off, looking to Emma for help. She glances over at the property and hums. 

“It’s $100,” she says, “so it’s worth two shoes.”

“This is weird,” you feel the need to announce, after taking your shoes off and throwing them onto the ground next to you with an exaggerated movement. Dylan hands you the Oriental Avenue property card with an amused smirk. 

“No one’s going to land on that.” Dylan remarks. You raise a brow and hand him the dice. He’s conveniently located a few spaces away from the property, ironically; if he rolls a six, he’ll land on it. Dylan rolls the dice and the dice skitters across the board, before landing to reveal a six. 

“I think you owe me a shoe,” you grin. Dylan pulls his shoe off and places it onto your open palm with a flourish. Within moments, you recoil and drop it onto the ground. “Why is there so much mud, what the fuck-?” You choke out, glancing down at the offending sneaker. Sure enough, there’s a solid layer of dirt on the sole. With the way Dylan handed it to you, you hadn’t seen the mud until it was too late. You get to your feet and head to the sink to wash your muddied hand. Abi and Emma are laughing hysterically, and Dylan joins them—wiping hysterical tears out of his eyes. You rejoin the table with an exaggerated groan. “I don’t think I want to play anymore.” You mutter. 

“Oh come on, that’s just the game,” Emma chastises you, taking the dice and rolling. She rolls a three and moves the Scottie Dog piece three spaces. She decides to buy the property and gives up a shoe; soon, it’s Abi’s turn and the game continues. 

After several rounds, you’re relieved to find that no one has needed to take off anything too revealing. Dylan’s shirtless; Emma doesn’t have socks or shoes; you don’t have shoes; and Abi is still wearing all of her clothing. When you reach your fourth or fifth turn, you land on North Carolina Avenue: a green property that costs $300. When you do the math in your head, you realize you’d need to give up two socks—not really a big deal—and your shirt—a much bigger deal. You stare at the property for several moments, contemplating whether you should take the risk. 

“We don’t have all night,” Abi remarks helpfully, breaking you away from your thoughts. You stare at her with a faux expression of irritation and she just shrugs. 

“I mean, she’s right,” Emma pipes up. “Just buy it already. Unless, that is, you’re scared… ”

It’s such an obvious trap. But you fall for it anyway. “I’m not scared,” you argue. And maybe, a small part of you is ultra-aware of your company right now—of a certain counselor sitting next to you, who you don’t want to look foolish in front of.

“Then buy it,” Emma dares you. 

Fuck, she’s got you now. You walked yourself right into that one, didn’t you? “......Fine.” You say. Taking off your socks is a relatively quick and painless affair. Unfortunately, that leaves you an infinitely more difficult one: taking off your shirt. You’re not necessarily insecure or unhappy with your body; you’re just not the type of person to constantly flaunt it or reveal a ton of skin. You’ve certainly had moments where you’ve felt confident enough to do so—but now, in the far too bright light of the cabin, surrounded by friends (and someone who you have feelings for), you feel extremely hesitant. 

“Well?” Emma demands. Abi elbows her in the side harshly and she promptly presses her lips shut, albeit with an outraged hiss at the temporary pain that the action caused. Abi and Emma aren’t really the ones you’re worried about… The two of them are rather hopelessly infatuated with one another, even if they don’t recognize it just yet. No, the problem happens to be sitting right next to you: staring at you with a surprisingly intent gaze. 

Feeling as if you’ve been shoved under your microscope, you take a deep breath and reach for the hem of your shirt. Dylan’s shirtless too, you remind yourself. It’s not like you’ll be completely alone in your discomfort. And you’re not ashamed of your chest—you’re proud of how far you’ve come. You’ve felt more at home in your body these past few months than you’ve ever felt. It’ll be okay, you reassure yourself. 

You’re about halfway through the motion, your shirt moving up along your ribs, when Emma’s phone pings. Everyone freezes, including you. Emma sighs dramatically and picks up her phone, eyes widening when she evidently stares down at the notification. When she notices that you’re all staring at her expectantly, she elaborates. “It’s Jacob,” she remarks, grabbing her socks and shoes and beginning to put them on. “Gotta go, guys. We’ll pick this up some other night.” She promises, tying her shoes before tugging her hood over her head and retreating. 

Abi stares at the doorway with a frown on her face, evidently not happy with the new development. You look over at Dylan, only to catch him as he looks up from where you’re pulling up your shirt. You then realize that you’re still awkwardly frozen with it halfway off. You quickly drop your hand and pretend that nothing happened. 

“I should probably go too,” Abi announces, placing her hands on the table and standing up. She’s looking at Dylan and you; it appears as if she’s going to say something else, but she seems lost for words. “I… left an excuse outside.” She immediately grimaces. You laugh and tell her it’s fine; she loosens up and leaves you both with a quick goodbye. 

Now it’s just Dylan and you sitting at the table, staring down at the abandoned Monopoly game. For a long moment, there’s nothing but silence. Then, just as you’re about to break it by forcing yourself to say something, Dylan speaks. 

“Were you really going to take your shirt off?” He asks, averting his eyes. You get to your feet and take a sip of your water, pretending not to feel flustered by the question. 

“Did you want me to?” You counter, sounding much more composed than you actually are. 

“Maybe,” he says, a lopsided grin rising on his face. 

“Hm,” you say calmly, pretending to think about it. And if you are actually thinking about Dylan and you alone in this cabin, with no one else… then only you have to know.  “I’ll keep that in mind.” You respond cheekily, putting your socks on and slipping your shoes on—tying them with slightly shaking hands. You’re jittery all of a sudden. 

“Hey, where are you going?” Dylan asks, squinting at you. 

“To the bathroom…?” You remark. Unfortunately, as nice as the cabins at Hackett’s Quarry are, they don’t have bathrooms in them. The camp is still stuck in the twentieth century in that regard—as there’s a cabin with all the bathrooms located a short walk from the counselors’ cabins. You refocus on what Dylan just asked you. “Do I need a hall pass?” You ask snarkily, with no real heat behind the remark. 

Dylan just rolls his eyes. You roll your eyes in return and leave the cabin, closing the door behind you. The rain is coming down hard now. It’s a relatively short walk to the bathroom, though—so you don’t bother to head back in for a raincoat or umbrella. The flashlight you snagged from Dylan’s living room is a godsend—as it illuminates the beaten path leading to the restrooms. 

Thankfully, the walk to the restroom is quick and relatively painless—save for how soggy your clothing is becoming. After you use the bathroom and wash your hands, you stand under the awning at the entrance and turn on the flashlight. You flick the switch a few times, but it doesn’t turn on. You groan and head out into the rain, putting a hand to your temple to prevent the water from getting into your eyes. You trust your muscle memory to take you back to your cabin. 

…Unfortunately, in the dead of night and amidst the brutal downpour, your muscle memory is worth jack shit. You get lost rather quickly, and soon you’re stumbling through thicketed trees with an increasing feeling of fear and dread coiling in your chest. You don’t want to spend all night roaming the forest. You’re somehow away from all the counselor cabins now. You try the flashlight one more time, even hitting it a few times, but it still doesn’t work. Groaning, you take a deep breath and try to retrace your steps. 

By some miracle, you manage to make your way back to the restrooms and you head off in a different direction. A few minutes pass and relief courses through you as you spot the lights of Dylan’s cabin. You’re quick to run over and stand under the awning, before knocking on the door with an unnecessary amount of force. Dylan opens the door within moments, an annoyed expression on his face. 

“What took you so long-?” He asks, breaking off as he looks at you. Dylan’s gaze wanders up and down your form, evidently taking in your drenched clothing. You’re sure you look like some sort of wet cat—soaked and unhappy. “Should’ve worn a raincoat.” He clicks his tongue, stepping aside to let you in. 

You groan in frustration, moving past him and sitting on one of the chairs at the table. You’d love nothing more than to lay on the couch, but you don’t want to ruin the upholstery. “I know, I know,” you seethe. You have no one to blame for this but yourself. And maybe the flashlight—if the stupid thing had a better battery, you would’ve made it back much faster. But instead, you were left to stumble around the campground for twenty minutes. 

Dylan rounds the table and stares at you, an uncharacteristic expression of concern on his face. You feel a shiver roll down your spine. “You’re freezing,” he states, looking at your wet clothes. “You’re going to get sick.”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’ll be fine,” you assert. The universe then decides to spite you, as you’re forced to sneeze. Dylan stares at you knowingly. You stare back unflinchingly. 

Eventually, he sighs. “You’re not fooling anyone,” he continues, gesturing to your forearms. “You have goosebumps.” You continue to stare at him stubbornly. Sensing that you won’t give in, he sighs. “Fine,” he announces. Rather than retreating to the couch as expected, Dylan leans forward and picks up your Monopoly piece. Dylan taps your Monopoly piece on a space, then another, then another—before finally letting it go. “Oops. Looks like you landed on Park Place… And what do you know? It’s my property. I think you owe me… all of your wet clothes.”

You resist the urge to groan, immediately understanding what he’s trying to do. “I see how it is.” You sigh. 

“You need to change,” he maintains with uncharacteristic sincerity. 

“Desperate to get me out of my clothes, huh?” You deflect. The effort doesn’t work, and he looks entirely unimpressed. You rack your brain for another excuse. “I don’t have a spare set of clothes—my stuff is in my cabin.”

Dylan holds up a finger, gesturing for you to wait, before leaving the room and heading for his bedroom. When he returns, he’s holding a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants. He places them on the table and stares at you expectantly. 

“Fine, fine,” you acquiesce. Admittedly, now that he mentions it, you realize that you’re freezing —so much so that your teeth are chattering. You push yourself up from the chair and to a standing position clumsily, before fumbling for the button of your jeans and taking them off. Dylan kindly averts his eyes, looking endearingly awkward as he shifts his balance from side to side. You pull the sweatpants on and very nearly sigh in relief. You hadn’t realized how uncomfortable wet denim was until you removed it. 

Next is your shirt. You take a deep breath and manifest some confidence, before reaching down to the hem of your shirt. But your hands are shaking and trembling—so much so that you’re struggling to simply pull your shirt off. Your struggle must take longer than expected, because soon Dylan glances at you and frowns. 

“Here-” Dylan says, swiftly breaking the distance between you and grabbing the hem for you. Before you can protest, he’s gently pulling it up. And while you recognize that he’s trying to remove your shirt without touching you, his efforts aren’t really working. His fingertips brush against your ribs and your heart starts to race. Dylan mutters an apology and pulls your shirt off of you faster. Shirtless in front of him, you feel yourself instinctively taking a half-step backwards, only to nearly crash into the back of the couch. You stick a hand out to brace yourself and try to regain your composure. Moments later, Dylan is pushing the shirt he grabbed for you into your hands. 

While you want nothing more than to tug it over your head rapidly and forget about this whole situation, your body doesn’t want to obey. You’re still shaking ever so slightly—and your uncharacteristic sluggishness is making this task seem nearly impossible. Before you can attempt some strange contortion to get the shirt over your head, Dylan’s helping you. In the blink of an eye, the grey shirt is tugged over you. The fabric is soft and, most importantly, dry. 

“Better?” Dylan murmurs, still standing far too close for comfort. 

“...Yeah,” you say, your tongue feeling thick in your mouth. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dylan answers easily, finally taking a step backwards and giving you some more space. You immediately miss the warmth that was practically emanating off of him. Silence settles in the air, thick and strangely uncomfortable. Everything unspoken lingers between the two of you.  

“Well, I guess I should go…” You eventually mutter. 

“Are you crazy?” Dylan blinks at you in disbelief. “You’re just going to get drenched again.” Your traitorous mind wants to attribute his insistence to something more than just friendly concern; you’re quick to push those thoughts away, though. 

It seems like Dylan is expecting another argument, because his eyes widen in momentary surprise as he realizes you’re remaining silent. Truthfully, you want nothing more than to put up a fight, but you feel as if the energy has been completely drained out of you. And despite the fact that you changed into fresh, dry clothing, you’re still cold. 

Dylan notices that you’re still shivering slightly and frowns, before evidently coming to a decision. “Here, come on,” he says, placing a hand on your shoulder and guiding you towards his bedroom. You’re so dazed that you don’t really grasp the implications until you’re standing before his mattress. You immediately glance back at him in confusion, only for him to gently push you towards his bed. You’re too exhausted to overthink everything that’s going on. 

Dylan helps you settle in and tugs the comforter over you. Even despite the added layers, you’re still a bit chilly. You burrow into the blankets and try to find a comfortable position, before settling for reclining on your back and staring up at the ceiling. Sleep is dragging your eyelids down and you blink furiously, your eyes dry and stinging. You see Dylan lingering in the doorway, seemingly unsure of what to do. You reach out to him wordlessly and his eyes widen for a brief moment.  

“Don’t want me to leave?” He then says, a playful grin on his face. He rounds the side of the bed and gets under the covers. “I guess I am pretty irresistible.” You can’t quite see the expression on his face, but you somehow know that he’s wearing a cheeky smirk.

Once he gets settled, you realize that, somehow, Dylan is just radiating heat. You try to tell yourself that you’re just cold, that you’re seeking him out for warmth and nothing more. But you know that’s a lie. You’ve grown quite fond of Dylan over the course of this summer, after all. You inch closer to him and practically burrow into his side, resting your head on his chest and feeling any of your remaining energy seep out of you. 

Despite your exhaustion, your mind is beginning to run wild as you try to justify your actions to yourself. This is just a friendly gesture. Amongst friends. Because you’re nothing more than friends… Right? 

Dylan must be a mind reader, because he looks over at you and hums. “Just sleep.” He whispers. Somehow, the remark is enough for your thoughts to calm down—for you to accept that he’s okay with this, that you’re not taking advantage of his kindness. And maybe a sizable part of you is still desperately hoping that even a fraction of your feelings are returned—that maybe, just maybe, he likes you too. 

But right now, you’re drifting off into sleep in his arms, and one thing is for sure: you’re warming up already.

endnotes: as i said, i had some of this fic written up for a character in friday the 13th… until i realized he wasn’t an important character and ended up dying… but then!!! i realized hackett's quarry is also a camp… and this happened. (*captain holt voice*) boom! had it both ways! no regrets.

i sprinkled in a bit of Abi/Emma. teehee. the gay agenda.

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #gn reader #male reader #transmasc reader #nb reader #the quarry #the quarry x reader #Dylan lenivy #Dylan lenivy x reader #Dylan lenivy x male reader #Dylan lenivy x gn reader

[yuurivoice]

not really a question, but I LOVE the little staticky glitchy sound effect that you’ve been adding to the end of your videos lately!! It scratches my brain so nicely !!

This probably isn’t intentional, but I find it to be so weirdly versatile. It’s loud enough that you can tell when the audio’s ended, but not so loud that it’s startling or upsetting. In a way it sort of enhances the feelings of any given audio? Like, hearing it at the end of a comfort audio feels like a warm hug goodbye, but hearing it at the end of something like the Withered Finn audio makes it eerie and foreboding.

I’m just an audio nerd who enjoys some good sfx. You, sir, have chosen an excellent noise lol

I can't take too much credit for that, because Thoo was responsible for the specific selection! When I was giving her notes on what I was thinking for the outro video, I had three possibilities.

Complete silence.

Subtle queues, potentially with softspoken outro by character.

Gentle background music.

I think she found the perfect transition sound. It doesn't intrude, but is distinct enough that it's doesn't go unnoticed. It's a very ambiguous sound, like you've mentioned here, you can attribute a lot of different vibes to it. The big thing was just making sure it doesn't aggressively rip a listener out of the scene, because audible whiplash when you might be balls deep in imagination land is a bad time.

I'm hesitant about things like intros too, a ~10 second bump at the start wouldn't hurt anything, but I feel like it very rarely adds anything. Something that is flexible and showcase-y without being a big jerk off session would be cool. Not to double down on Marvel references today, but their intro that showcases various characters and moments as we pull out to see the big Marvel title card, with the music, is pretty fucking great in that regard. What could essentially just be nonsense (ironically I feel that way about the Star Wars helmet thing they do now, because it's entirely restricted to Droids and Helmet havers, if I recall correctly), is now an anticipatory part of the intro. The score, the visuals, all contribute to telling the story while reminding the audience that this is YOUR shit. They already know, but if it's done well enough, it builds hype. The lights are dimming, everyone has put their phones away, and the show is starting. I love digging into stuff like that and trying to figure out why it works.

I don't think my brain is big enough to come up with something quite that dope for my own stuff at the moment, but it's certainly a thought. lol

#yuurivoice

[nastasyafilippovnas]

Sometimes writers ruin everything by making clear what was previously ambiguous.

#menajerimi ara #kiraç x gülin #i loved their dynamic #why did we have to put a name to it? #on the last episode no less! #why did he have to turn her down? #i cried on that scene #at the same time #yeah i wouldn't have liked if they had gotten together #(at least not then) #but that was why the ambiguity was so good #was it a silly crush? was it father-daughter? was it really romantic? #so many possibilities #you don't have to explain it just bc the series is ending #and once again a dizi finale leaves me dissatisfied #i spent the first 20 eps thinking it was the best thing i've ever seen #and the last five cringing in anger uff

[shrugsinchinese]

It’s Wizard Hours

#critical role #critical role fanart #essek thelyss #astrid beck #eadwulf grieve #caleb widogast #sturm und drang #whats hotter than wizards nothing #if there's anything i'm good at it's bullshitting ambiguous swirl patterns #Eadwulf was unfortunate enough to be my guinea pig so that's why you see a whole mess of sketching techniques on his page #i love him tho <3

[the-real-list-of-ominous-threats]

I'm going to make you obsessed with evil video game men

#someone help i cannot escape the grasp of the Fucked Up Evil White Boys From Video Games I Don't Even Play #(the Fucked Up Evil White Boys include: Strade BTD. William Afton (that was a low point). Phillip Graves. Albert Wesker.) #why am i like this #me to my friends: guys i have a new fictional crush #friends: is it another evil mid white guy #me: uhhhhh..... #to be fair i have good taste in fictional WOMEN. #read the tags #granted the women i like also have moral questionableness. ventress my evil wife >>> #actually strade is only questionably white like he's german but he's often portrayed as kind of racially ambiguous so who knows

[the-ronan-cycle]

Okay but Will was so (fairly) angsty about how his blood killed Katherine, but she purified the sword!!! It was the Lady who killed Katherine because she wanted Visander to resurrect

#dark heir spoilers #dark heir #dark rise #cs pacat #Visander #my art #this raises so many questions for me #like #why was Visander returned and not the lady? #while we’ve seen the Light isn’t always the ‘good’ side #I think this is the first time we see the Lady as morally ambiguous #I had a lot of fun with the outfit in this #the book is set right after the regency era #dress silhouettes change drastically through the 1820s #so I did a more regency-y top with a fuller pleated skirt

[lvminisciel]

you were many, many things

both the goods and bads. the once and not. you were a lot of things, yet nothing at the same time. you were mine. you are gone. you knew the depths of me. you know nothing of me. you were all i needed. you are all i ask. in this fraction of kindness you sprinkled, i yearn. i wished to be yours once again. to lie in your arms. to embrace your warmest hugs. basking in your sunshine beneath the stars. tainted in your kiss beneath the scars. to hold you close so i won't lose you ever again. to write another chapter with you. you. you. it's always you and never once me. 

i'm sorry for loving you, my little dove 

#i always think; just like how yuu is unable to recognize malleus on their first meeting (or in canon terms; not knowing who he is) #so does malleus by the end of time: unable to decipher who or what yuu really is #nor anyone in whole twisted wonderland in general #moreover if yuu finally leaves for good #which means they existed (ppl hv memories of them) yet didn't exist at the same time (cz in reality that's not where they belong) #both certainty and ambiguity! overlapping in the form of yuu #they're the actual ones shrouded by mysteries #twisted wonderland #twst #twst angst #angst #malleus draconia #malleus x yuu #malleus x reader #miè writes ✍️ #miè's poems #is ths even a poem tho #as for why malleus apologized at the end ill leave it to ur interpretation ;))

[rawliverandgoronspice]

behold: my second least favorite string of words in the entirety of Tears of the Kingdom.

(it's a little less transparent why this time so I'll explain my thoughts under the cut)

So why do I not like this?

In so many words: because if you remove it, the scene still works, but you lose the moral certainty of what is going on.

This single sentence does so much legwork for the entire game (the kind I dislike), to the point where I'm about 60% sure it's the product of a rework that realized how ambiguous Rauru's position was as the Good Rightful King and needed to nervously reassure the players that Ganondorf Is and Always Was the Invader, Actually.

(no matter that it leaves the gerudos in this awkward in-between state of both invaders and victims, while never dwelling in the specifics of their history and their own agency in the entire thing; brushed off as a sin they have to expiate through loyalty to the winners of that particular strife, but without explicitely blaming them either to avoid the implications of what that would have looked like)

If you remove it, not only do you lose a pretty clunky line that detracts from Ganondorf's intimidating presence (who is he even speaking to? who needs to hear this right now?) that honestly speaks for itself when it comes to his experience with warfare, but also you lose any tension and any mystery regarding why he is attacking in the first place.

You also... kind of rob Ganondorf's motivations of their meaning. "Hyrule will bow down before me" leads to asking... why? What does he want? What does he see in those lands? And what little we get with Rauru and then Link during the final fight begs more questions; why do you prefer hardship to peace? Why do you value strength? What leads you to want to rule a land devoid of survivors, become a king without a kingdom? I don't think we ever get satisfactory answers. If you remove this sentence, on the other hand... Subtextually, it becomes pretty clear that his motivations is that he felt threatened by Rauru's power, which is ripe with subtext and questions about whether this is a legitimate reaction, whether his "no survivor" stance is due to a feeling of betrayal when his own people turned against him post the Demon King shenanigans... I'm not saying it would fix the entire game's writing, far from it, but it would already do *so much more*.

(genuinely, I think he could have stayed completely silent during the Molduga Assault, speaking only in the Show of Fealty before going completely nuts after Sonia's murder, and it would have worked MUCH better in terms of characterization but anyway anyway

EDIT: ALSO!!! that way he wouldn't speak hylian to fellow gerudos, which is weird inherently)

Without this line, the core of the tension between the gerudos and Hyrule comes front in his conversation with Rauru; it allows the cause of his hostility to be Rauru's invitations, that he would have taken as a threat, and would have still made him warlike and domineering without making him cartoonishly flat, because, once again, Rauru is not acting in a particularly more legitimate way when Zelda arrives in Ancient Hyrule; and it would have been... fair to point that out. And make for better characterization for Rauru, and Sonia, and Mineru, and everybody. But the priority was for Hyrule to be pictured as unquestionably holy; always legitimate, always truthful, always beautiful, always just.

Also, and this is more of a nitpick but: why would Ganondorf want Hyrule, specifically, to bow down before him also? Was he at war with the rest of the disparate tribes before, and just carried on his ambitions to the very very newly-founded kingdom as they allied under a new banner? (though it seems to be implies the lands were crawling under monsters in a generic sense, and not Ganondorf's attacks in particular) Why would he even consider Hyrule a legitimate entity worth taking over then, if it is so new, born from the will of a powerful rival, founded by what is basically a stranger to these lands? Why would he covet something so young instead of destroying it and just calling the lands Gerudo Lands II or Grooseland or something?

I don't think any of that was even accounted for, because, beyond everything else: to me, this sentence is so clearly and painfully crammed in here to shield Hyrule from any potential blame and immediately characterize Ganondorf as Bad without having to remove any of the causes that could lead one to side-eye Rauru's little pet project as equally questionable.

Beyond the clumsiness, it is cowardly --and, I think, a little damning.

#totk #totk critical #when will my brain return from the imprisoning war... #ganondorf #gerudos #rauru #tl:dr it is cowardly and reveals that nintendo knew about the Implications to some degree #sometimes less is more #really in that case less would have been so much more #it is literally ganondorf's first chronological line #yeah sure it tells you everything about the guy but #it's also such a bold commitment to flatness and self-righteousness that... yeah #and before I hear any “at least Rauru wasn't using force” I mean as far as we know though? #the constructs attack anyone deemed an “invader” on sight one of the things rauru does is to apologize for this #(I reread Rauru's initial dialogue in the Sky Islands and it would have been SO GOOD if any ambiguity would have been allowed) #(like the thing about Constructs mindlessly pursuing their useless tasks forever disquieting him...) #(yeah buddy so true that could uhhh almost be a metaphor for something else regarding purpose and lineage or something wow) #and even if he didn't use force directly the power dynamics and repeated invitations are still undeniably questionnable #like my guy why do you want everybody to kneel down to you what's up with that do we unpack this or #at least ganondorf was like.... born and raised a king (not that it excuses anything but he inherited pre-existing traditions) #so did zelda #she was born in an imperfect system and did whatever she could about it #rauru *crowned himself* #he *made* the system

[yashley]

i literally live for the fact that anyone goes “he wasn’t that bad!!” and matt immediately pipes in with “he wasn’t GREAT”. the fact matt always is the first to be like no well he still SUCKED.

#critical role #cr lb #matt weaving in understandable motivation and still being like NOPE he SUCKED is why i love him tbh it’s sooo subtle so understated so 2 me #to say THIS is why he’s like that sure but 100% doesn’t condone treating his love ones that poorly. #there’s a lot of emotional ambiguity one can feel rationalizing the Damage that only hurts the receiving end and it’s like #sure it’s Good to reach out and humanize someone hurtful but also you can Do that while not surrending the reality that some people suck #do i understand ? why people fail each other sure but with love being all there is do better or stay sucking that’s it #relvin literally doesn’t exist why waste breath fervently rationalizing how bad he could’ve been who CARES put him in the bin

[justacrazylilguy]

To The Metal Gear Fandom

Okay so silly question but i see a lot of yall on here and you say all the homoerotic stuff in mgs is canon right? Especially otasune, bbkaz, bosselot. Not to sound like a hater but the first game came out in 1998. You know what age hideo Kojima was back then? 36 with a wife and kids. So what's his real purpose for making a whole game series about a buncha gay guys? That's what leads me to believe it's unintentional but idk. If he said why then lmk cause I dont get why he would? I've been thinking about this a lot recently because I've been seeing a lot of people saying it's deliberate. Anyone can answer btw my askbox is open because i Need an explanation. More in tags cause im insane.

#mgs #Metal gear solid #solid snake #Otasune #Bosselot #Vkaz #Bbkaz #Don't come at me mad btw im literally a gay guy so it's not like I mind it 😈 #Its just I get confused when mgs is praised for like . rep? its not rep if it's ambiguous really..And like why would he even care #Enough to make it his lifes work when he's straight. Mayb closeted but its so weird to speculate on anothers sexuality 😭 I see people do it #Idkkkk im thinking the ppl that point out the blatant homophobia have it right. Only villains being explicitly queer and raikov well. exist #My friend says the beach date w kaz is mocking his admiration like Ooh hoooo someone has a big ol crush on Big Boss. Ocelot too #Hes also gay btw but neither of us could come with a good reason other than hes closeted but that seems unlikely. Infact he said so I think #It makes more sense in my mind that Kojima accidentally made the gayest series ever. He's an ally though thanks Kojima 👍

[lord-squiggletits]

NGL I think one of my least favorite "gotchas" that I see/get while critiquing stories is "so how would you fix it? oh so you don't have an idea of how to rewrite the story to make it better? oh so basically you're just complaining that you don't like it and don't have actual critique."

Buddy.

Sometimes the reason I don't have a "solution" to how the author should've rewritten their story to be better, is because I'm not privy to the author's thought process, what their alternate story ideas were, what they talked about with their editor, what they might've been forced to do by deadlines, or even what they might've thought they were writing towards at first but then later changed the trajectory of their story to be about something else.

It's all well and good for me to say something like, idk, "I think Character A should've gotten more narrative focus because their story could have helped fix XYZ Plot Hole," but it could very well be that the author never intended for Character A to be a prominent character (just a secondary or tertiary character). Maybe using Character A to solve one Plot Hole would've gone against the writer's plans because then it would open up a different plot hole for something else they had planned later in the story. If it's an ongoing story, maybe something I see as a "plot hole" is actually a deliberate mystery that the creator left open to write about later-- or maybe the plot hole is because there was a deadline crunch and the author had to drop a certain character/plot point/etc because they couldn't fit it into the story any more. Maybe having Character A be a more prominent part of the story is just based on MY personal tastes and what I would want to write in MY version of the story, but completely clashes with the characters/conflicts the author wanted to focus on.

Because yes, there are some story critiques that are as simple as "part A doesn't make sense, you could just fix it by doing B", but there are also some story critiques where suggesting a viable "solution" would require BEING the author or someone involved in the production of the story to understand what limitations or plans were involved in the selection of that flawed plot point. There are also some story critiques where even if there is a "problem" and my critique offers a "solution," there could be another "solution" or even dozens that do just as good of a job fixing the issue, but involve vastly different characters, plot ideas, so on and so forth.

Being a good critic isn't (just) about going "the story would've been better if X happened" because the story is ultimately in control of the author and their vision, and without knowing what the author's vision was (something that you almost exclusively know if you're 1. the author or 2. their beta reader), it's impossible to definitively say "this plot point should've been cut/[completely different thing] should've happened instead" because THAT is the point at which you're complaining, not critiquing. I would argue that in some cases, trying to "fix" a story yourself actually makes your critique worse, not better, because it ends up being a case of you simply imposing your artistic vision over the author's to say "I think it would've been better this way."

At least if you just say "this part of the story was flawed because XYZ" without saying "it should have been ABC instead", then you're stating your grievances with the story without being presumptuous enough to assume that YOUR version of the story would fit the author's original vision, or the constraints they were working under, or the other versions of the story that they were debating over at the time before ultimately settling on one version (even if flawed).

There's a point at which "this plot is flawed, that should've happened instead" is just fix-it fan fiction and not actual critique that could help the writer write their story in a way that fits their vision.

#squiggposting #discourse #i think the closest you can get to definitively saying 'the author should've done X instead' #would be something like JRO and the handbooks he recently released where he actually revealed alternate plot ideas #or like what the reasoning was behind different plot points. as well as what he did and didn't include and why #because THEN with a more clear understanding of the behind the scenes/what the author wanted to achieve #THEN you would have more information to be able to say 'this alternative storyline would've solved this plot hole' #or to even say 'actually those alternate ideas weren't as good and picking the canon flawed plot made a better story' #like for god's sake ppl apparently don't understand that art and storytelling and creativity are subjective #sometimes if i don't have a solution it's not bc my critique is invalid. it's bc there's multiple ways to fix it #and i'm not the author so idk which way of fixing the story would best suit their intentions/purposes/limitations #despite what snobs seem to think it's very possible for you to say 'this is flawed' and not know what the fix for it is #it's like how you can eat restaurant food and go 'something about this tastes bland' #w/o having to know what ingredients went into the recipe or how it's supposed to taste #and in that case unless you literally know the recipe or are a chef you would come off as a dick #if you tried to dictate to the kitchen what they did wrong and how to fix it #for some reason story critics are terrified of ambiguity and uncertainty and subjectivity and idk why #it is very easy and not intellectually wrong for a person to say 'this is flawed' and not have a solution for how to fix it

[merrysithmas]

STAR WARS without the force just feels like WAR WARS to me but in this series im here for it bc of the ripe-for-picking political exploration of the universe which has been overdue bc the prequels were over 20 years ago! and little subtle nods to the Force like "The Eye" of aldhani... beautiful!!

a star wars story without a force presence truly is muted in darkness and andor does a great great job at displaying that both narratively and visually with its somber colors, mist, shadow, pallid light and stretches of silence...

all those spaces? that dullness? that's the absense of the force and the light. no color, no sound, no happiness, no life.

& moral ambiguity for all (as the sith/empire is at peak power) and suppressing the light. so well done and not outright stated or obvious.

i think when ppl watch this show and cheer that there's "no lightsabers" they are missing the point of that decision. that the down-to-earthness, the War Wars of it, feels that way because the magic is, literally, gone. the force is gone.

which also reflects our own world.

#andor #also im def here for the lightsabers lol #in mando we have grogu #in rogue one we had chirrut #i miss when the force isnt there as the spiritualism is why i enjoy sw #but this series is so good that the lens turned to a diff aspect of the saga for a little while is dope #i really hoped in the new movies they were going to disband the jedi and sith and start smth new #but alas #like the bardottans and nightsisters and whills all understand the force #there's so much to explore there but in the spiritual realm of sw the Order has to remain as an achor of sorts in SOME fashion even in the #background #there's sooo much to say about andor and the absense of a formal force narrative and the moral ambiguity therein #but the ultimate struggle for freedom and justice #very cool #the absence of a force narrative IS a force narrative #(and obv the empire/sith at full power and this is purge era) #so anyway just talking myself into more ideas haha #a sw universe without a strong force presence is truly muted in darkness and andor does a great job at displaying that

[incesthemes]

ok but i'm so confused about 12.07. what do they even think lucifer is gonna do. he wants a crowd of devoted followers so he gathers them to a rock show to presumably convert them to his satanic religion or whatever. and... i'm not seeing the urgency and dread that the episode is treating this event with. "we have to save the concert-goers" from what? being turned into satanists??? isn't that lucifer's explicit stated goal here??? he's not gonna KILL his converts because then he wouldn't have anyone to worship him. hello that's the whole point of getting new fans to come to the show

"yeah but they don't know lucifer's intentions" but the SHOW ITSELF is treating this concert like some kinda big dangerous thing. this is so messy and there's absolutely no stakes to justify the tonal urgency it's pushing. so i'm just staring at the screen like what are you guys doing

#liveblogging: supernatural #12.07 #this episode is TRYING my patience #why does lucifer even want followers anyway. his motivations are so unclear and ambiguous #have been since he got out of the cage #really feels like the writers looked at lucifer and were like ''well he's evil and evil people want evil for evil's sake'' #and that's all the thought that went into it #which i don't appreciate. not that the writers are particularly GOOD or ADEPT at writing multifaceted side characters #but lucifer HAD a motivation in kripke era. he HAD a well-designed character. that was subsequently ignored and rewritten after s5 #so i won't deny that i'm salty about that too #anyway i'm just annoyed by this episode #.txt #spn12