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#this time featuring: CORRECT distortion
badnoahmens · 3 months
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I Took Your Keys, It Was Me - Part 4
Noah Sebastian x Reader
Words: approx. 3.7k
A/N: This fic has been a sloooow burn, so maybe it’s time to change the pace? Thank you to everyone who has kept up with these updates to far, I’ve been uninspired and your kind words have been the only reason I have been writing this 🖤
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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The noise of sirens rang in your head, bouncing in your skull. It took minutes before the blur from eyes started to fade away, the sounds of the world coming into the correct frequency.
There was something sharp and uncomfortable poking into your side which made you squirm, still unable to fully open your eyes.
There was a crackle and some movement to your left, murmurs growing louder as each second ticked by. There was a trickle of warmth running down your face, your arm, and now that you think of it, most of your body.
The sharp pain to your left grew stronger, causing you to lurch forward and scream, the sudden pain contorting your insides into an excruciating puzzle.
The buzzing grew louder, and the lights surrounding you shone brighter than a second ago. There were noises of people and machines and cars and just about everything else that made your head spin even more, making the dizziness unbearable.
Without thinking, you twist to the side, upheaving the contents of your stomach onto the floor, leaning through an opening that wasn’t there a second ago.
You could feel arms pulling and twisting at you, and you couldn’t do anything but succumb to their will.
As the tugging of limbs pulled you from a twisted metal cave, the trance of consciousness wavered, and eventually fell silent.
The incessant beeping is what awoke you, the tight restrictions of medical tubes wrapping your arms came next. Your eyes blink slowly, bringing into focus the white clinical walls that surround you. A shadowy figure was by your side, details of their face too distorted from your blurred vision to make out who it was.
As you begin to twist, the figure moves, coming closer to you, making it easier to make out their features. It’s your friend, the one you haven't seen in weeks, the one you thought that you should tell about your dates with Noah, the same friend who came to the Bad Omens show with you way back when - all of two weeks.
Her face looks like fear being masked by a fake sense of confidence, it was easy to tell that she was putting on a brave face as if not to scare you.
She calls your name, and you respond with a slight smile.
“What on earth happened?” she asked, voice laced with worry, a hand finding their way to rub soothingly on the bare skin of your arm.
“I think…. My car… I pulled out in front of someone?” you ask, still unsure yourself, finding it difficult to make sense of the flash of memories from that moment.
She takes a moment, looking over your bandages, the tubes sticking out of you, and the drip that steadily held the pain at bay.
“Well that was kind of a stupid thing to do” she laughed, and gave you a look that you were all too used to.
You chuckle in response, her humour was something that always made you smile. The sarcastic jokes between you two growing up had become the love language of your friendship.
It was in this lull of silence that there was a knock at the door. Both your heads tilted to view who entered in.
You have a fond smile, as much as you could manage in this state, to Noah as he walked in, who looked like his eyes almost fell from their sockets. With a quick few steps, he was by your side, sitting opposite your friend.
If Noah looked shocked to see you, your friend looked like she just saw a ghost. He face didn’t move a muscle, eyes glued to Noah as she watched him take in the image of you in the hospital bed.
It was then when it clicked; you still hadn’t told her about everything.
It had all happened so fast, and you thought you were doing the right thing. Keeping your meetups private was you trying to be respectful of Noah.
Right now though, it would probably be best if your best friend had known what you had been up to.
Noah calls your name, bringing you out of the daze you were in. He looks at you with a worry stricken face.
“It’s okay, I’m okay… I think” you trail off. Your hand pats the top of his, that was hesitantly wavering on the side of the bed. Just as you feel the awkward silence begin, a doctor enters, flashing a glance between the three of you.
“You’re mostly right” he said, referring to your comment. “Lost a bit of blood, got a few cracks in the ribs, and you were severely dehydrated.”
The doctor seemed very relaxed about the state you were in, giving a strange sense of comfort. If he was calm, then you should be too.
“You’re going to need a hand moving around though. Your abdominal muscles will hurt like hell for a while. Is there someone who can assist you with daily tasks?” He asked, flicking through the clipboard of notes that hung by the end of your bed.
“Yes, she’ll be looked after” Noah responds, before even letting you speak.
“Great! You’ll be discharged soon. Take it easy and come back for a check up in a few weeks” the doctor stated, then exited the room.
“Noah…” you look at him, but he simply shakes his head.
“I’m the reason you’re here, I’ll be the reason you’ll recover just fine”. He sits back in the chair, glancing at the machines by your side. His jaw clenched as he looks away again.
“It’s not your fault” you say almost sternly, shifting as you try to sit yourself upright. The pain that tears through your abdomen makes you gasp and fall back, wincing and squeezing your eyes shut. It takes a moment for it to settle, and once it does, you let out a shaky breath.
As your eyes peel open, you look back at your friend. It was as though she was frozen. A statue. Eyes still locked on Noah, mouth slightly ajar.
“Is he the one who hit your car?!” she whispered, looking at you in a not-so-hushed tone. Her expression looked almost angry as she glanced at him again.
“No! No that’s not it!” It almost made you laugh, which hurt your chest.
“After the show the other week” you wince again, pushing in your arms to straighten yourself up. “Noah and I got talking. We've been talking.”
Her eyebrows raise in disbelief and she leans in close to you.
“Are you telling me you went on a DATE. And this has been going on for WEEKS?!” She attempts to whisper again, failing to hide her shock from Noah.
“We caught up yesterday… and today…”
Her reaction was yet again priceless. This time, along with the wide eyes, a smile graces her face, seemingly overcoming her star-struckness as she leans back in her chair.
“Do you know how insane this sounds? Like, this is actually crazy” she was now talking as if Noah wasn’t even in the room. She continued, “so, you’re dating the frontman of our favourite band?”
Your smile was all the answer she needed. She squealed in excitement, bouncing out of her chair to readjust her legs.
“You have to tell me everything about-“
She was cut off by Noah clearing his throat, a smug smile on his lips, even if he was still avoiding eye contact.
You mouth an “I promise” to your friend, who nods understandingly. She then stands, gathering her things into her bag and propping it over her shoulder.
“I’m only a phone call away. I mean it. If you need anything.” She stated matter-of-factly. You nod, squeezing her outstretched hand, before she bids her farewells and exits the room.
“She seems like a great friend” Noah comments as the door closes.
“She is. Been by my side forever” you say. Toying with the flimsy white hospital blanket. “You know you don’t need to help me. I know tour is still going and-“
“There’s nothing you need to worry about. It’s all been handled” he says calmly, intertwining his hand with your fidgeting one, looping his fingers between yours.
“Thank you” you say with a shaky voice. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were scared.
Over the next few hours, there are a few more visits from nurses, making sure that the injuries weren’t serious and that you were in the clear to leave. They seemed relieved when they saw the way Noah held out his hand for you to steady your balance. Despite a feeble attempt to walk on your own, he was insistent, and you couldn’t deny that it was indeed helpful to have him there.
He helped you into a cab that was ready and waiting, and you gave the directions to your home.
The cab ride was quiet, but Noah kept his hand in yours. He was careful as to not squeeze too hard as to hurt the bruising, and rushed as fast as he could to hold the door open for you when you finally arrived home.
You step from the cab and gather your belongings in a small bag, which Noah promptly takes for you and slings over his shoulder. You huff in response.
“I’ll need that so that I can unlock the front door.” You hold out a hand expectantly, but Noah ignores it. Instead, he runages through the tote, shuffling back the phone, wallet, even a stray tampon, and then raises the keys triumphantly. A few silver keys dangled, paired with your old key ring and the key to your car.
“I remember these!” He said happily as he reminisced on the story of how you met.
“That seems like forever ago” you reply, following as Noah walks towards the door, swinging it open and motioning his hand in front of him.
You step through the threshold and into your living room, glancing around to see the scattered mess that you had left pieces of clothing strewn carelessly by your bedroom door, after the fiasco that had made you be in such a rush earlier that morning. It was a little embarrassing, but with the feeling of drowsiness starting to set in, it didn’t really bother you that much.
Noah walks past you, placing your bag of belongings into the small island that was the center of your kitchen. He notices the yawn you let out and walks over to you, gently placing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you into a hug.
Your arms curl up to his chest as you rest your shoulder on him, his heartbeat steady beneath his shirt. Your eyes close, and you let out a breath, feeling content for the first time in hours.
“You should probably get some sleep. I’ll be right here if you need anything.” His grip tightens, and then loosens, as if to gesture to you to do as he says.
And you were not in the mood to argue. “Make yourself at home” you say, looking up at him drowsily, and he offers you a sweet smile back.
Without anything else said, you turn, heading straight for your bedroom. With the door closed, lights off, and finally under the covers, it didn’t take long to fall into a deep sleep.
It might have been the pain killers, the dark room, and just because you were flat-out exhausted, but it was hours later when you finally woke up.
There was no way of knowing what hour it was, your phone was somewhere else and the sky outside was a dark veil of a blue-black. Tip-toeing to the door, it creaks open, the light from the kitchen and living area still alight.
The clock on the wall shows the hands pointed at 12:45AM, and the TV continued to play a show that you hadn’t seen before. You walk towards the lounge, trying your best to be quiet on the hardwood floors as you could see an arm slung sleepily over the edge of the lounge, but fail once something twitches inside you, tugging at the injuries. You let out an involuntary yelp, falling forwards, arm only just catching the back of the sofa. Your other arm curled around your torso, clutching as though you were trying to hold yourself together. Tears started to well up and you were breathing heavily, huffing to try and control the searing pain that was starting to spread.
You startle Noah as he jolts upright in a panic, his hair completely strewn. His eyes are still half closed as he stumbles to his feet over to you, tripping over his feet a little. When he reaches your side, he helps you, taking a hand in yours, the other hand resting on your shoulder, semi-carrying your weight to lead you to sit down.
He steadies you as you lower, sitting while letting out a shaky breath. He still had your hand, clutching your fingers between his as your heartbeat finally started to come down to a normal pace.
Noah’s face was still covered in shock, processing what was happening around him. He looked concerned, hesitant to move, to touch you or help in any other way.
“I’m…. so…. sorry…” you huffed between breaths.
“S’okay” he murmured in response, clearly still half asleep.
“I can’t believe you’re still here” you say, looking at Noah, who met your eyes. It was an attempt to fill the silence growing in the room, and to distract you from the throbbing still occurring in your ribs.
“I wasn’t going to leave you here on your own.”
“You have things to do, shows to play. You can stay here, of course, but don’t you need to leave soon?”
“You don’t need to worry about that.” It was the casualness that he said it, that made you worry.
“What do you mean by that?” You ask, and he smiles, looking down at your hands.
“Everything has been sorted.” He comments, wriggling his fingers, turning your hand over in his.
“You’re awfully vague for someone who has everything planned out,” now you’re watching your hands, Noah begins to trace the lines of blue veins he sees under your skin.
“You didn’t cancel, did you?” It was almost embarrassing how fast you came to that conclusion, but he chuckles.
“No, the show is still happening. It’s not that far of a drive. Everyone else is heading in earlier, and I’ll meet them before the show starts.” He places your hand down, lifting his arm to rest over your shoulder. “And so will you.”
You look at him, unsure of what he was going on about.
“I don’t ha-“
“Like I said. It’s sorted.” He gives a small eyebrow raise as if to imply ‘I win’.
You, on the other hand, determined to flesh out as many details, pressed on.
“So how will we get there?”
“Car.” Noah was quick to respond.
“Who’s car?”
“Hire.”
“How long of a drive?”
“‘Bout an hour.”
He was looking smug now. You thought quickly to come up with more questions.
“What about after the show?”
“I’ll drive you back.”
“You’re not doing that.” You demand. That was too much on him.
“Yes I am.” He sounded like a stubborn child.
“It’ll be too late.”
His head rolls to the side, looking directly into your eyes.
“I’m a big boy, I can drive at night.”
It might have been the confidence that oozed from his voice, or the fact that he just called himself a ‘big boy’, but you felt something flip inside your stomach, a heat rising up to your chest, red bow flushing your cheeks with a hot glow.
All you could offer was a smile, looking back into his dark oak eyes. The way he was looking at you made you feel the safest you had ever felt.
Something came over you, and you held your breath, eyes slipping closed as you lean in, ever so slightly to Noah.
It could have been a hug, a kiss on the check, or something more mundane, but Noah knew this was an invitation. One he happily and needily accepted.
His lips meet yours, keeping his pressure light, but you needed a little more than that. You leaned more into the kiss, and he read the message loud and clear. His body shifts so that he’s facing you, leaning back and pulling you with him to sit atop his lap. Your lips are moving a little faster now, starting to part ever so slightly, so much that you can just feel Noah sweep his tongue over your lip. You reciprocate the action, holding onto either side of his face with your hands, knees now pinned on either side of his torso. Your lips part again, this time offering your tongue, and Noah opens needily. His breath is hot on your face as he tries to hold back every nerve in his body from taking this too far.
His head shifts closer to you, doing what he can in such confined space to bring you closer to him. His mouth moves with intent, like he was controls g each micro movement of his.
With the slightest tilt of your head, Noah’s lips crept to the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of fire where his lips and tongue darted across your skin. His hands gripped at your waist, digging into the sensitive skin being exposed from your shirt being tugged up just a little. His thumb rubbed carefully as though to say sorry, even though he wasn’t apologetic in the slightest.
All your mouth could do, while Noah’s lips were now starting to run down to your collarbone, was hang open. The sensation, the heat, and the overwhelming fire inside you made it impossible to move, just in case if you did then all this would stop.
Noah watched the way you were falling apart, and he loved every second of it. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wasn’t going to hold back anymore.
When his mouth returned to yours, you followed his lead. Tongues were dancing intricately and intensely with each other. Heavy breathing would waft in brief periods when either if you needed a second to catch your breath, so the other would find something else to do with their mouth.
His hands are tight on your hips, fingers trailing up and down under your shirt, leaving the slightest of red marks from the pressure. It took everything in you to ignore the glaring pain that burned in your ribs, the feeling of fire ripping from both sides made your breath stop. Your head lifts a little, slowing down your passionate kiss, but Noah raises his head with yours, although as to make the moment linger for just a while longer.
You hated to do it, but there was no choice. The already existing bruises and injuries, paired with the lack of oxygen from not breathing properly was enough to make you lightheaded. You would have doubled over if you hadn’t already been laying horizontally.
You pull away, shifting so your hands are in fists on either side of Noah, bundled up and pressed into the thick fabric of the lounge. Eyes are tightly squeezed shut to focus on controlling your breaths.
Noah watches as a panic starts to rise.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-“
“Noah, shut up.” You bark. His rambling makes it harder to will yourself to sit upright.
You push yourself back, now kneeling back in your legs, perched on Noah’s lap. Brushing your hair from your face, it takes a moment to steady yourself, but after twenty seconds, your eyes open. The pain is starting to subside.
Noah looks like he was in trouble. He held his hands up in surrender beneath you. Eyes blown wide as he took in the sight of you sitting precariously close to a certain something he had no control over in his pants.
He begins to shift beneath you, pulling himself up onto his elbows, eyeing you warily.
“Was that too much?” He questions.
One of your hands goes to rub the side of your face, eyes droop closed. You nod in response to him.
“It just hurt a little.”
You hadn’t noticed the tear that slipped out until it rolled down your cheek and fell onto Noah’s white shirt. His hand rubs up and down your arm to comfort you. With another shaky exhale, you open your eyes. Noah is being careful, despite his own desires at the moment, he looks at you as if to find the answer to what you need in your eyes.
“Thank you,” you finally say.
“For comforting you, or for kissing you?”
“…is it too weird to say both?” You both chuckle at the awkward remark. “I guess making out while you have injuries from a car accident isn’t the best way to have your first kiss together.”
Your legs slip off Noah, standing slowly and straightening out the clothes which had become so very twisted in the moments before. Noah sits up too, tugging at the sweatpants so they sit better, before reaching for a pillow, placing it gently on his lap.
You raise an eyebrow at him, before letting out a gutsy laugh. His eyes widen and looks to be shy all of a sudden.
“What?! I’m trying not to ruin the moment!” He states, but you can’t respond, still laughing at the innocence contrasted with the reason.
“Look, there’s other ways to get rid of it” he murmurs beneath his breath, teasingly, yet cautiously. His eyes are on you, wondering if the lewd joke had pushed the boundaries.
There was no denying the fire of lust burning in you, the way he made you feel made you weak at the knees.
“If it weren’t for these injuries, I’m sure we’d be finding out what those ways are.”
The somewhat directness from you caught him a little off guard, and it turned him on even more. He had to shift in his heat and readjust the pillow just to make his arousal a little less obvious.
You couldn’t help but giggle at his flustered state, and the way he looked away from you when you turned to see his reaction. He even raised his hand, biting down on a finger in an attempt to distract himself.
You laugh again, knowing full well nothing else could happen. These injuries were cockblocking you to the extreme. As inviting and tempting as he was, the pain wasn’t worth it. He knew it too.
After the moment had passed, Noah shifted again, moving the pillow so it sat by his side. He padded it, and you lay down, placing your head on the pillow. His fingers start to tangle with your hair, pulling and twirling the loose threads that were strewn across your face.
The low murmur from the TV was enough of a lullaby, paired with Noah’s careful caressing, that you drifted off to sleep soon enough. Noah stayed awake for a little while longer though. He watched the way your eyes fluttered behind their kids. The way your face would twitch or twist as your dreams u folded before you. He also noticed the way your body relaxed when he gently placed a hand on your side, thumb rubbing careful circles to sooth you.
Just as he was about to fall into a slumber, we was on the brink of a dream state himself, when you utter his name. A loving smile graced your face, and it made Noah’s heart swell tenfold. He knew, after this moment, he would do anything in his power to keep you.
Part 5
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chadillacboseman · 23 days
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The Shepherd's Daughter - II
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Pairing: Phillip Graves x F!Reader (Shepherd's daughter)
Warnings: Reader is a CIA agent. Mentions of terrorism, both foreign and domestic, blood, injury, guns, etc. Graves is a whiny, jealous little bitch boy, but when he gets his way OOOOOO. SPOILERS FOR MW2.
Summary: As punishment for the botched infiltration of a domestic terror cell, your father, General Shepherd, pairs you with Shadow Company to retrieve American war assets that have fallen into the wrong hands.
Word Count: 2k maybe?
Part ONE HERE
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"Are you any closer to finding them?" Your father's voice was tense, on the verge of anger. You sensed that perhaps he had been into the whiskey he kept in his desk drawer ("for emergencies" as he so often joked).
There was no progress update to be given. Every lead you had chased with Shadow Company had been a dead end. You considered, for a moment, lying to him- spinning a tale and trying to make the situation less dire.
It would do you no good. He had an uncanny way of knowing when you were lying, even if all he had to go on was your voice.
"No, sir. We are not," the line was silent at that response and you instinctively tensed, awaiting the inevitable shouting that would come.
But it didn't.
Instead, his voice was even as he asked, "And how is Shadow Company performing?"
The question perplexed you. Did he think of you as his own personal spy? Had Graves been correct in his assumption that your father wanted someone to keep an eye on their operations?
"Well?" Impatient. Nothing the man hated more than waiting.
You took a quick glance around the room to make sure no Shadows had wandered in before answering, "They're...fine, sir. We just don't have many leads to go on."
"Fine?" His anger had finally bubbled to the surface, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are they doing their fucking job or not?"
You held the phone at arm's length until he had finished his tirade before bringing it back to your ear for a rebuttal, "They're well-equipped, efficient. My...reputation makes it difficult to earn their trust, but they are tireless in their efforts."
A grunt of approval on the other end of the line. The deity had been appeased.
"I expect a report at the same time tomorrow."
The line went dead.
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Graves watched you from across the room, his blue eyes unwavering as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the body of his rifle. You were staring out the cracked window, your hair moving ever so slightly with the push of the salt-soaked breeze.
You were pretty, something that Graves had began to notice the more time he spent with you. Something that ate at him- frustrated him beyond reason.
He still didn't trust you fully. Hated the way you took phone calls from the general behind closed doors. Graves knew you were reporting back to Shepherd about them- on good days, funding poured in from their benefactor, and on bad ones they barely scraped by with their lives.
"The general giving you grief today?" Graves called across the room.
You shrugged and made a face that distorted your features in the dim lighting of the safehouse. He chuckled and bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting to see if you'd relinquish any further details.
You didn't.
Graves chewed the inside of his cheek and decided to press his luck-
"You been tellin' him how we're doin'? That what the phone calls are for?"
You shot him another look, this time laced with your obvious annoyance at the question; he smiled in return, that disarming smile full of too-white teeth that could almost be mistaken for a shark's maw.
"Just askin', princess. No need for the venom."
He drawled out the cutesy nickname that made your face heat; the other Shadows had dropped it after you'd proved yourself to their standards, but Graves still used it, much to your chagrin.
"I tell him what he asks for," you spat the words a little more harshly than you intended, and you almost felt a pang of guilt when Graves raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"And what does he ask for?" he cocked his head, blue eyes shining under the exposed bulb in the ceiling, "how his lapdog is performing?"
"Your words, not mine, Graves."
"Mhm," he took a step forward and the aging wooden floor creaked under the sole of his boots, "Do ya tell him how my boys are run ragged chasin' his fuck up? How we're stayin' in shitholes like this-" he jerked his head around the room at the cracked walls and exposed wiring, "while he sits in his office?"
"Where are you going with this, Graves?" you sighed through your nose and folded your arms across your chest, "What do you want from me? I've been with you for weeks- if you don't trust me, then-"
Graves cut you off and took another step toward you, his hands still clutching his rifle to the point of whitened knuckles, "I wanna know what the high and mighty Shepherd junior is feeding her daddy dearest when no one is listening."
Something in you snapped.
You shoved him, hard, and he stumbled backward, his eyes wide before he caught himself. An expression flashed across his face that made your stomach drop as he tossed his rifle to the floor.
"Try that again," Graves snarled, his face now twisted in an almost eager grin.
You could try to defuse the situation- tell him this was pointless bickering.
But that something inside you fought back against the urge, burning white hot like a branding iron.
"C'mon, princess. Try it again."
That was the final straw.
You leapt forward and tried to level a knee into his gut, but anger made you sloppy. Graves elbowed you in the middle of your back, nearly snatching the air from your lungs.
"Sloppy work, Shep," he sneered and you brought your head up quickly, making connection with his chin with a crack that radiated through your own skull.
Graves stumbled backward and spit, a splatter of crimson hitting the filthy wooden floor before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Before he could recover, you lunged at him again, grabbing him around the middle and shoving him to the floor.
Graves let out a muffled yelp of surprise as you pinned him, the sharp point of your knee keeping him flat on his back. You unsheathed your knife and pressed the razor edge to his throat, savoring the way his pulse raced under his sweat-soaked skin.
"Give me a reason, Graves," you hissed through gritted teeth, "I'll tell him you started it. Make sure there's only one story."
"You gonna cut my throat? Do it then," he was still grinning and a small trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth, "C'mon!"
He shouted the last word and you jumped, nearly granting his wish.
"Not worth the paperwork," you sheathed your knife, satisfied with the small cut you'd left in your wake. You made to rise from him, but he clapped a hand onto your thigh, holding you there.
A strange expression passed over his features for just a moment, then disappeared along with the pressure of his hand on your leg. You rose to your feet and offered him a hand, which he took before orienting himself.
"You gonna tell the general about this little spat?" Graves cocked an eyebrow and brought his hand to his throat, swiping the still trickling blood from the wound.
"Maybe."
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The fight was absent from the next call with your father. It didn't seem worth the effort to explain that you'd briefly thought of killing the commander over a childlike argument.
There was good news to pass on anyway- Shadow Company had landed in Las Almas and the Mexican Special Forces seemed far more competent than the US Military back home.
Colonel Alejandro Vargas, in particular, was impressive among them. He and his second in command had already had a run-in with Hassan and the taskforce they were working alongside had been chasing down leads left and right before Shadow Company arrived.
The 141 and the Special Forces treated you with more respect than the Shadows had- they even seemed to seek your input, which was more than you could say for Graves and his men.
It was easier to spend time at the Las Almas base- it was warm, and for once, you weren't sleeping on a bare floor next to a dozen snoring soldiers.
Graves seemed annoyed with your enjoyment of their hospitality, but never mentioned it directly.
"It's good to have you around here, hermosa," Alejandro was bent low over a map of Las Almas, studying it with intensity, "Sometimes these men forget the little details."
You smiled and he returned it, a genuine grin that accented his handsome features.
From across the room, Graves glared at him, his lip curled in a barely-concealed snarl of disdain. Why it upset him so much, he had no idea- that alone frustrated him more than Alejandro's blatant flirting.
He wanted more than anything to wipe that smile off of the colonel's face, preferably with his knuckles.
"Graves?" you cocked your head and the sound of your voice cut through the swirling white noise in his head, snapping him out of his rage-fueled trance.
"What?"
You furrowed your brows and gestured to the map, "Alejandro's plan?"
Alejandro. So quick to call him by his first name.
"Small teams are probably better for this," the colonel repeated the plan slowly, as if Graves was a child who had been caught daydreaming, "Shepherd and I could-"
"No," Graves cut him off and you raised a brow, "She comes with me, she doesn't work for you, Vargas."
Alejandro seemed to have made a connection in that moment and a smirk ghosted over his lips at the realization, "Far as I know, she doesn't work for you either, sombra."
You glanced between them, sensing some unspoken tension that seemed to have formed behind your back.
"I should go with Shadow Company," you murmured quietly. For a moment, Graves looked triumphant, until you continued, "The general wants regular reports on their performance."
Alejandro chuckled and shot the commander a look of victory, "Wouldn't want to disappoint your bankroll."
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You spent the next miserable night in a decrepit safe house, staring up at the ceiling as Graves breathed softly next to you. He hadn't said a word since the spat with Alejandro, and he'd tossed you your duffel with such force it had nearly knocked you off your feet.
Your back ached from the hard floor, and the early sounds of a thunderstorm were brewing outside the thin walls. You sat up in the darkness and rubbed your temples, contemplating the series of life fuckups you'd had to make to get to this point.
A loud crescendo of thunder shook the house and you jumped, barely stifling a yelp of fear at the sudden sound.
"Scared of storms, princess?" Graves mumbled from his position on the floor.
"Will you give it a rest, Graves?" you snapped and he chuckled.
There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again.
"How come you don't call me Phillip?" he pushed himself up to a seated position, his eyes barley visible shining in the dark.
"Because you're the commander," you said with a shrug.
"You call the Colonel by his name. Seems a little too familiar."
"Are you jealous?" you asked incredulously and he huffed out a noncommittal response you couldn't catch, "What is going on with you? Three weeks ago, you'd have been happy to have me out of your hair! Hell, before we landed in Las Almas, we nearly killed one another-"
"Yeah? Maybe I just don't want you shacking up with a foreign military leader when we're supposed to be focused!"
You sputtered indignantly, feeling your face grow warm at the accusation, "Shacking up? Really?"
"Yeah, really."
You took a blind swat at his face in the dark and he grabbed your wrist yanking you toward him until your chest was flush with his. In the pitch blackness, his eyes shone like a predator as he stared down at you.
His face was so close to yours now that you could feel his breath as it fanned over you; he was nearly panting, and you could feel the thrum of his heart under his fatigues.
You tried to pull away, but Graves tightened his grip with a growl, "I sat back while you spied on my men, slowed us down, and reported back to your piece of shit father. Then we land in Las Almas and you may as well have sat on that fucking prick's lap while he planned-"
Your free hand connected with his face with a crisp -SMACK- that rang out in the silent room. If it had hurt him, he didn't show it. Instead, he grinned and took hold of your free hand with his own before moving, swiftly, and knocking you onto your back with your arms pinned above your head.
You tried to wriggle free, but he shoved a knee between your legs for leverage and you felt a sudden pang of heat at the contact.
"Didn't your daddy ever teach you any manners?" He hissed through gritted teeth.
"Fuck you, Phillip," you spat his name and he laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound that fell flat in the darkness.
"Ask me nicely."
"Get the fuck off of me!"
"Wrong answer, princess," he thrust his knee up into you and you let out a strained gasp that made him laugh again, "See, you're givin' me mixed signals here." He brought his mouth down to your ear and you felt a jolt of electricity run down your spine.
"You want me to stop? I'll stop, but I don't think that's what you really want."
You didn't answer, your attention now too focused on his mouth as it neared your neck, hot breath sending your hair on end. When his tongue finally hit your skin, you had to stifle the sound that threatened to tumble past your lips. Before you could stop yourself, you bucked your hips, desperate for friction against his knee.
"That's more like it," he purred; his teeth came down, suddenly, on your pulse point and you gasped, back arching off the cold floor and sending your chest against his. Tomorrow, there'd be a mark there, glaring and obvious for everyone to see.
"Can I let your hands go?" Graves panted, his mouth still close to your ear, "you gonna go smackin' me again?"
"No," you tried to focus through the haze of lust that had taken root in your mind.
"Promise?" He asked, his voice smug.
Before you could answer, he released your wrists and one of his hands snaked under the hem of your shirt, rough fingertips gliding across your sensitive skin. His hand found your bra, deftly moving it up to expose your breasts to his fingers. He wasted no time taking one of your nipples between them, rolling gently until you let out a pathetic whimper.
"Wondered how good you'd sound," Graves' mouth found yours and he nearly crashed into you, kissing you like the desperate man he'd been since landing in Las Almas, "He's never gonna fuckin' hear this."
Alejandro. He had been jealous.
"C'mon, let me hear that pretty sound again, baby," he murmured; his knee ground into you once more and you moaned his name, his first name, and it sent his head into a daze.
You heard him fumble with his belt for a moment, then he tapped your buckle expectantly, prompting you to wriggle your way out of your pants. You tossed them aside in the darkness and shivered against the cold night air as it hit your bare skin.
"This ain't the way I wanted it to happen," Graves whispered as he ran a gentle hand up your inner thigh.
How long had he been thinking about it?
Swiftly, he grabbed your thighs and pulled your legs around his waist, lining himself up with you. Slowly, agonizingly, he pushed himself inside you, hands grasping desperately at your hips to pull you flush with him.
Graves dropped his forehead to yours, panting quietly as he let you adjust to him. His first thrust was gentle, slow and easy, as if he was testing the water.
"You gonna tell your daddy about this?" Graves set a bruising pace, thrusting into you with less restraint than before.
You didn't answer, unable to speak as his cock hit every sensitive spot deep inside you over and over again. You wanted to hate him, wanted to tell him what an absolute bastard he was-
But the words wouldn't come.
Instead, you clutched at his shoulders, moaning and whining like an animal in heat as he fucked you on the filthy floor of the safehouse.
This was a bad idea, surely. Sleeping with the commander could only come back to haunt you.
Graves thrust, hard, and the thought was pushed from your mind entirely as he edged you closer to release. It was clear he wasn't far behind as he panted and let his movement grow sloppy and erratic.
"Gonna cum inside you, baby, that okay?" Graves' voice shook as he spoke.
"Yes-" you gasped out the words as he gave you one final push that had the tension inside you snapping like a taut cord.
He was close behind you, thrusting sloppily until he was spilling inside you with a weak grunt. He stayed like that for a moment, panting, as sweat dripped from his face and pattered down onto you.
Already, you could feel the gentle throb of the bruise that was forming on your neck where he had bitten you earlier.
To your left, a radio crackled to life and Graves scrambled to grab it, listening intently to the chatter from the Shadows on the other end.
"Shit-" he tossed the radio to the floor and searched for his pants.
"What is it?" You asked weakly, still lying on the floor where he'd left you.
"141 has movement, pretty sure it's Hassan," Graves threw your pants to you and you wiggled your way into them. It had to be at least 3am and you were exhausted.
You searched blindly for something to cover your neck, but to no avail. You weren't thrilled at the thought of Alejandro seeing it, but decided you didn't care.
Graves led the way and you followed him out the front door, rifles drawn.
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youcancallmemikuu · 2 months
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My White Swan.
Rockstar!Yan x Nonhuman!Ballerina/Ballerino!Reader.
A/N! I changed his name because it was starting to get hard to remember T^T. His name is now Dimitri!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Everything about you made his heart skip millions of beats. You were so..so..so enthralling! The way you danced and gracefully floated across the stage made him fall in love in under three minutes!
Dimitri has caught himself buying the overpriced tickets to your performances in advance. And by in advance he means the second they’re out. He sits up, waiting for the clock to strike twelve and the tickets start selling.
His favorite part of your ballet is how fluid your body movements were. The way your wrists easily just spun, and your steps, so easily coordinated, and don’t get him started on how neutral your expression is! How can someone’s neutral face be so heart stopping!?
Dimitri is convinced you’re not human. There’s just no way. No one that perfect exists.
And he was correct. You weren’t human. Not at all. A small percentage human, yes, but fully? No.
You were a horror show. You could deform and contort your body in ways no one thought possible. Your eyes are always in someone’s nightmares, peering from the darkness and waiting for them in the cold depths of the void.
But for Dimitri, your eyes are so dreamy~ You can’t put your finger on it. Why does this emo rockstar not fall victim to your terror trap? Why doesn’t he squirm in fear at the thought of you simply always..there. Always watching. And waiting.
But he loves it, and he won’t let that deter him from devoting his heart to you.
So of course, the first time you detached your spine from you humanoid body, he didn’t squirm or cringe in disgust. He just watched, sighing contently.
“Darling..~ You’re so beautiful.” He’d mutter, staring infatuatedly at your human disguise slowly dissipating as your monster form took its place.
You look back at him, your white doe eyes boring into his. “Privacy.” You retort in your distorted voice, staring down at him. He nods and turns to the side, stealing glances at your monster form.
It was so adorable! Your nonhuman features just made him love you more! But he must respect your boundaries.
So he waits, waits and waits until you’re done cleaning your blood matted fur. Once you speak to him in your human voice, it sent him reeling. “I’m done, dear.” You coo, and he whips his head around.
“..Still so pretty.” Dimitri mutters. You smile and give him a small peck on the nose. “Don’t you have a concert to attend, dear? You yourself are a celebrity..” You gently cup his face, twirling one of his dreads.
“..Mnn..they can wait.” He grumbles, tackling you onto the bed. He holds you close and doesn’t let go, his face buried in your chest. “..Mmn..so warm..”
You let out a small chuckle.
“..Dearest…how do you love someone like me..?” You ask, and he simply places his lips onto yours.
“Who couldn’t love someone like you?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aaa! Sorry sorry sorry again for not posting, life hard :(. But I will post when I can, so please be patient with me! Anyways, enjoy!!
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mantisgodsdomain · 16 days
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Falling victim to madness in the Chilaios Discord part one (with a link to the post mentioned at the end). Part 2 linked here (note: slightly more nsfw text). Transcript below cut.
A Discord conversation between three discord users - us, nicknamed Speculative Vore Cookbook, Cup of Chilaios Soup, and Oh Kay! (wormlette).
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Experiencing the impulse to rewrite the changeling chapters for fun and profit. Do you think that considering that half-foots apparently see dwarves as Extremely Attractive Laios sparks some kind of Thing in Chilchuck as a dwarf
Cup of Chilaios soup: GRABS YOU PLEASE CONTINUE
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Listen considering Us there will be spec bio about this but. Listen. Since we've been doing the species as "uncanny-valley-type not quite Like You" for the most part with just a little bit of increased compatibility within "families". Do you think that it would be fun if he can suddenly see all of Laios's features in this new light of this particular species. Where all of the tallman features abruptly come into focus in a format far more recognizable and all of a sudden he can draw some Very Certain Lines to someone who is abruptly several times more recognizably attractive rather than, like, would be very attractive if it weren't for the subtle distortion of species.
Cup of Chilaios soup: my third eye has opened
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Do you think being a tallman himself would help with that? An abrupt distortion of the brain. Do you think he would be able to draw back those memories to abruptly have the uncanny-valley barrier splinter under the force of, y'know, he knows precisely what that translates to, and with the added perspective it seems much less alien, and much more "for the love of god he's not supposed to be getting crushes on the job"
Speculative Vore Cookbook: We need to make elves Weirder for this also. They're like the only race on the chart right now that Doesn't have a close-relation group where things like attraction translate more easily we need to make them more fucked up Absently rotating the idea of dwarves having an excellent sense of smell compared to their other close relatives both for enhancing their appreciation for Good Food (a surprising amount of taste is tied up in your sense of smell) and for underground navigation & communication And Laios will absolutely be Weird About It
Cup of Chilaios soup: Laios: wow Chilchuck why do you smell so breedable (gets crushed by a rock)
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Walks up to Chilchuck and starts sniffing him unprompted so he can deliver a food-critic review of his scent Breedable waits for whenever we actually get ourself to do sex pollen heatfic and can also do cool spec bio stuff but like with reproductive cycles Still rotating the idea of making DM tallmen Weirder. We already know they're taller than IRL humans we need to add like some extra fuckshit in there We've got to do the speculative biology first you see. Make it more fucked up. We've already set it up so they're fairly closely related to orcs we might as well add some fantasy bullshit in there.
Cup of Chilaios soup: Tallmen have slower metabolisms maybe? And they need to at A Lot to support their mass? You are so correct eat A Lot*
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (replying to initial message): wait hold on holy fuck man.
Speculative Vore Cookbook: So far what we have for them as their Thing They're Known for is like. Endurance. Tallmen Specifically are known to be able to walk for hours without growing too tired. Not quite as strong as orcs or ogres, of course, but they're tall enough that they practically eat up ground with every stride, and they just don't stop moving.
Cup of Chilaios soup: passing the braincell around like it's a joint KINGS OF TIRING THEIR PREY OUT
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Orcs and ogres are ofc known for their brutal strength, which is Significantly Less Pronounced in humans - but all that strength burns energy, and they'll tire out far faster. Humans just keep going, far beyond what they really should be capable of.
Cup of Chilaios soup: guys who will climb a fcking mountain and be like ":D wanna walk back to town on foot"
Speculative Vore Cookbook: We think that the Big Thing People Know for elves would be their magic but we think that the magic thing is less about being naturally predisposed to it or whatever and more on the fact that enough of their society circles around it that pretty much any elf you meet's been deliberately raised to cultivate their magic, We think that their actual primary feature, like, physically, would be like. We're basing them on ungulates, right? Elves have long, willowy limbs, especially compared to their bodies. Look very graceful as adults who have had centuries of experience walking around and like wretched ganglebeasts at any point when they haven't gotten the hang of it yet. ABSURDLY fast in a sprint, because those long-ass legs are useful for Something, and that Something is being on runnable stilts. Not much stamina, though. (we are returning to this because we are fond of Marcille and we want her to be, like, Weird but in a way where they pass it off as Normal Elf Weird until the Changeling Thing happens and they have to cope with the fact that actually, elves are way weirder, and Marcille is weird in how close she is to other races as opposed to. Uhh. That Fucking Setup
Speculative Vore Cookbook (replying to Cup of Chilaios soup": "guys who will climb a fcking mountain"): Tallmen will climb a mountain carrying equipment on their back and need like a thirty minute breather tops before they're back up and at it like "okay now time to go down the other side" We think it's fun if it's a thing like the half-foot/dwarf/gnome cluster's enhanced senses, where the Absurd Stamina is part of what their other close relations have going for them, but whereas orcs and ogres have it to a Reasonable degree, Tallmen specialize really hard into doing this One Thing and get it in spades. Much like how half-foots spent all of their stat points in their ridiculously sensitive senses, to the detriment of things like strength and durability, tallmen have stupid amounts of stamina. Don't have to be as strong as your close relatives when you can simply outlast them!
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (replying to Speculative Vore Cookbook "returning to this because we are fond of Marcille): really like learning abt elf weirdness in the context of marcille, specifically as a half elf. really liked how that reveal was handled, since fionil is also a half-elf i didnt notice for a LONG time that she was perhaps different than other elves. i really like that!!! tall-men just have a lot of stamina. basically canon re: how much shit laios carries around. particularly in a good dog RIP they're like. alaskan mal specced. they just keep going and going forever
Speculative Vore Cookbook: We think that her, like, subtly softer features and such get Very Fun especially with the potential familiarity aspect vs what full elves have going on if we go full weird on elves because we fucking love how Absolutely Fucked ungulate anatomy is and it scratches a little itch in the back of our brain to let the Graceful Forest People overlap with, like. You Know The Specific Flavor Of Creepypasta Beast
Oh Kay! (wormlette): ^forever comparing everything to dog breeds
Speculative Vore Cookbook: We casually mention that Falin's wrist bones are shorter than elf wrist bones in Drain Your Well Dry and we really need to elaborate on that some day Marcille is like the shetland pony of elves in that she's got like WAY more just… bulk, compared to an elf that's normally like 98% gangle 2% meat And she's still, like, insanely boney compared to human standards. We like to think she has the build of a greyhound. Insanely long for no reason.
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "casually mentioned Falin's wrist bones are shorter): I NOTICED!!! I LUV THAT… marcille studying ennervation and everything… it kills me… i always thought of her as so carefree looking in her little spellbook and walking around and now im haunted by like. how much of it was her studying human anatomy for what she feared was inevitable!
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting "like to think she has the build of a greyhound"): oh yeaaaag sighthound build would be GOOD for elves.
Speculative Vore Cookbook: But she still looks… More Similar To Other Races, y'know. You can see the similarities to her and other races and it makes it a tiny bit easier to slowly feel more at ease around her. Elves are weird and you don't see them often, but y'know, you've been around This One Elf long enough to start picking up on stuff, y'know? She's not that different from you, when it comes down to it, and sure she's a bit childish but that's probably normal for longer-lived races who're in the first halves of their lives, honestly. Aging slower and all. You can draw the lines if you pay enough attention, you've spent enough time socializing with other species that you can figure out the basic key, and though there are some things in there that really throw you off, as with any other race, it's not like you're handling an entirely new skull structure like with kobolds, right? It's readable, with enough time. Similar enough to tallmen that you can use your experience there and then fill in the gaps. And then you meet full-blooded elves when the Canaries come knocking and these guys are WAY more offputting than you thought actually. What the fuck is up with them? What the hell?
Cup of Chilaios soup: They have the reflective deer eyes from those horror edits
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Putting elves as a weird isolated branch in the humanoid evolution tree was a galaxy brain decision for us tbh. Their whole Weird Superiority Thing very much gets worse when they're the only people who don't have close relatives they can reference from. The other long-lived races seem to mingle FAR easier than them, and though we know it's The Attitude and such, it's fun to make them just… offputting.
Oh Kay! (wormlette): your miiiind
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting "not like reading an entirely new skull structure like kobolds): btw dont you love the thingie about kobolds having a vocal chord structure that doesnt realy support them speaking common. so no matter how smart they are they seem "animalistic" to humans. i love that a lot it's like. hmm. i really like when it's not body horror by itself but put into a societal context, it BECOMES horrifying. u know? it would be fine. except the dehumanization it leads to
Speculative Vore Cookbook: YESSSS it slaps so hard. We think that there should be more bonus subtle differences with just random other races we think it's SO fun when biology fucks you over just as firmly as society.
Cup of Chilaios soup: SO TRUE KAY Rotating all these thoughts in my mind
Speculative Vore Cookbook: It's not that something is wrong with you. It's that you weren't built for this world the same way that everyone else was.
Cup of Chilaios soup: The parallels,,,,, the themes,,,,, Biting my leg
Speculative Vore Cookbook: Anyways do you think that part of the reason Kabru is so Like That is because he went from normal human body language to a bunch of elves with the same general bauplan but next to no shared body language vocabulary, Do you think he had to like manually learn how elves express social emotions with a race so isolated that they're probably developing whole separate methods of socialization completely divorced from anything the short-lived races even do and then had to relearn how to act like a Human when he went back into the world.
Cup of Chilaios soup: OH MY GOD Also sorry but Idk how far some of the peeps reading the manga are, perhaps it would be nice to spoiler the Kabru thing:0 BUT I AGREE THIS IS SCRATCHING MY BRAIN KABRU MY BELOVED THIS HEADCANON IS SUCH GOOD BRAIN FOOD
Speculative Vore Cookbook: We love making fantasy races like just a little bit more fucked up
Cup of Chilaios soup: As you should!!!!!!!
Speculative Vore Cookbook: TBH it widens the gap between species if they're, like, similar enough that you think you Should be able to interpret the signals they're giving off because they look Just Similar Enough that they should emote and socialize and such like you, right? But the similarity is, as they say, mostly just skin-deep, because it does so much more to widen cultural differences when the cultures also work on different biology. Anyways we think half-foot communities should be really dense in population because they descended from an ancestor with the Meerkat Strategy of having a fuckton of people with very sharp senses all looking out for the same colony in such a way where there's always at least one person awake to raise the alarm and we think it's fun if half-foots are set up for a significantly more tactile & densely-populated community than most other species.
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "part of the reason Kabru is so Like That): I DO. I DO THINK THAT. DO YOU THINK THAT tallman socialization feels so coarse and simple and easy-to-read by comparison.
Speculative Vore Cookbook: It's cool & fun if Chilchuck has to deliberately avoid almost all forms of touch to avoid being demeaned and seen as Lesser And Childish while also being wired to have like minimum five hours of skin contact with colony members per day tbh. Touch starve that man in ways that are difficult to understand for his party that he will actively have to muffle if he wants to be taken Seriously because most other races see it as Childish to cling
Speculative Vore Cookbook (quoting Oh Kay "I DO THINK THAT"): YES and we think it's very fun if him having to manually relearn tallman socialization also makes it so he finds it easier to interpret other races because he already has to like work out what Everyone's thinking from a pre-prepped body language dictionary and it's just so much easier to interpret when he doesn't have to re-invent the wheel every time
Oh Kay! (wormlette) (quoting Speculative Vore Cookbook "childish to cling": @_@ im so FUCKING normal
Speculative Vore Cookbook: :333 The changeling chapter constantly lives rent-free in our brain we think it's fun if like anyone who gets half-footed starts experiencing the intense skin hunger cravings like less than an hour in and have no idea what the Fuck it is because they've never lived in a body made to be that Social before and Chilchuck has to like take over to offer a bit of touch even if it's undignified since. Y'know. He knows how it feels. No reason to subject them to that, even if it's gonna cost a bit of dignity. It'll cost them more dignity if they start freaking out over it. It's efficient :333 Dealing with senses cranked up so high that you can tell when someone's moving around clear on the other side of the building probably makes it a whole lot harder to handle even More stimuli in a normal and dignified manner Something something we're grabbing a cool post we made
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dreamerwitches · 8 months
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It's the----- updated Madoka iceberg yaaay!
I'll only be discussing the additions on this one (in green) so please check out the old one for the original descriptions
Content warning fooooor: fetishes, child abuse, artists being perverted about children, suicide, death and organ trafficking. This is gonna be fun, huh
Let's goooo!
Sky:
Mami forever alone: A bit of a joke/observation in the fandom. The popular pairings are Madoka and Homura, and Sayaka and Kyoko, often leading to Mami being alone which sadly suits her character... This is jokingly noticed in fanart and manga with Mami often being left out. Sadly it's also led to some darker pairings for her such as Kyubey, Nagisa and even the witch kissed woman from episode 2.
Witches speak: Although witches are often silent or cry out like monsters. Two are known to have spoken. Elly speaks in reverse in episode 4 saying 'I really had fun today, I want to do it again. Next time, I'll bring a bentou'. Izabel also speaks in episode 10 to lure Homura into her labyrinth. However it is completely unconfirmed that the witches are actually speaking and it may even be their familiars. Mildly related, Oktavia's scream from episode 9 is actually a distorted scream from Sayaka.
Walpurgisnacht festival: Walpurgisnacht's name comes from the real world European festival of the same name, or Walpurgis night, that lands on the 30th of April or the 1st of May. Some people theorise that Walpurgisnacht actually arrives in Mitakihara on one of these days.
Walpurgisnacht rising: The sequel film to Rebellion announced on April 25th, 2021... very little was first shown and not a sausage has been revealed since... v-v
Madoka Magica Cafe: A temporary cafe set up around the release of the original anime in 2011. It offered special drinks and desserts as well as Madoka merch. It was extremely popular with waits of over 2 hours on opening day. A few more were held in Japan and Taipei.
Tip:
Magia Record Anime ver. Units: Very controversial variant units from the Magia Record game. These units were criticised as lazy copies of existing characters. With either very minor differences to talk sprites or none at all, ugly battle sprites and lazy transformation animations ripped straight from the anime. These units were not received well with one of the only good aspects being the beautiful card art.
Juubey: The Kyubey for the Pleides Saints in Kazumi Magica. Spoilers for the manga. He was an altered Kyubey that served the girls and purified their Soul Gems without need for Grief Seeds. After learning the truth about witches, the girls killed Kyubey and turned them into a Dependent-Version Incubator with the nickname Juubey and blocked out Kyubey's influence on the city. Yeah, it's complicated XD
Covid delivery girls: The dual unit Tsuruno Felicia Delivery Girls features face masks in their transformation and Magia sprite because the Covid pandemic was occuring when the unit was released.
Ebony: Ebony was the third Puella Historia unit released in Magia Record being a girl from ancient Egypt. She is heavily criticised in the western fandom for not only having a terribly revealing and historically inaccurate outfit but for also being white. However, like Cleopatra, she could be Greek therefore her skin tone would be correct. This however does not excuse her poor design overall On a similar note, how Cleopatra appears in Magia Record is incorrect as she is tanned in-game but has been confirmed by historians to have been white.
Cancelled figures: What is says on the tin! Merchandise that was cancelled including a scale figure of Nagisa and figures of Yachiyo and Tsuruno in their casual clothes and uniform respectively (possibly prize figures). Some that are in a terrible limbo include the 1/8 scale Holy Mami figure, Figuarts mini of Mami, Sayaka and Kyoko and a 1/7 scale figure of Madoka in the style of Aoki Ume's art.
Rebellion was just fanservice: My, my, a controversial one! Some people speculate that the sequel movie, Rebellion, was merely made for fanservice and money. This can be argued with the finite feeling to the anime's ending as well as the many tropes seen in the movie. It shows all the girls fighting happily together (a thing wanted by many fans), ties up loose ends with Sayaka and Kyoko and adds a fan favourite witch, Charlotte, into the main cast. I like to think this isn't the case but you can decide this yourself.
Masara Kokoro Bride ver. A recent variant for Masara and Kokoro where Masara is in a wedding dress and Kokoro is in a tuxedo. Their description is that they're modelling for wedding photos but the gay theming is too overpowering for it to be simply platonic. The less than subtle hints at romance between two girls is a change for the series that loves to be ambiguous. The unit was very well received.
Kyubey and Charlotte scooters: A unique piece of merchandise are scooters by Brain Police that feature decals of Kyubey and Charlotte. You can get yourself one for the low low price of 134,400 yen (£750). These are certainly unique, but quite a funny piece of merch
Lesbian Rika: Rika from Magia Record is the only magical girl canonically who has been in love with another girl (don't get the pitchforks, SPECIFICALLY confirmed). Her wish was for her childhood friend to fall in love with her instead of the boy she liked which does work yet Rika realises it doesn't feel right and breaks up with her.
Shallows:
Trans Ria: Ria is a magical girl from Magia Record, her wish was 'Turn me into a naturally beautiful girl'. This has led fans to believe that her wish was for her to transition from male to female. This can also be seen with her doppel Heide Jekyll that transforms from a dumpy blob in a rectangle to a feminine figure with a circle. Her witch's name also comes from Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde which is not only a male character but they were also known for transforming into an alter ego or a different person.
Devil Homura in Magia Record: A total tease. Fans have been wanting Devil Homura as a unit in Magia Record since its very beginning however she still hasn't come. To add salt to the wound, the Magia Report version of her, Devil Homura-chan was added on April Fools 2022. It's speculated she may be released on Magia Day but she's still not here...
Alina Eve's name: Alina Eve is a witch fusion of Alina, her doppel and Shitori Egumo who debuted in episode 25 of the Magia Record anime. In the anime, her name appeared in Runes as 'Neo Dorothy Motherfucker'. This links to her use of curses and her doppel's name, Old Dorothy. However, when her profile was revealed on the official twitter she was named Alina Eve and in-game she is called Neo Dorothy. The reason for the change and discrepancy is unknown but it may be because they didn't want to use swear words in media outside the anime.
Swimsuit Madoka's transformation: An infamous one. When Madoka got her swimsuit unit her transformation was the first (and only so far) to use the live2D models instead of traditional animation. This was not well received and was a disappointment for one of the main character's units. The reason may have been time constraints but fans were not pleased.
Mami is Walpurgisnacht: Forgive me, it's a little clickbait-y..! The reason is..! Mami's voice actress, Kaori Mizuhashi also voiced Walpurgisnacht in the anime. She also voiced Tatsuya, Madoka's little brother.
Fetishes: Oh dear... we're getting here... Two magical girls have clear fetishes. Yukika gets pleasure from dangerous situations while Miyuri has a foot fetish that is probably played off for laughs... It is NOT okay to give child characters fetishes, okay? Fetishes are a sexual thing. Next.
Dub bloopers: Bloopers for the English dub of the anime were released at Otakon 2012 (can be found on Youtube). It certainly feels like 2010s humour but it's still a little funny. Also great if you wanna hear some of the girls swear.
Iroha x Yachiyo: Ugh. It is very clear from Magia Record media that Iroha and Yachiyo are played off very similarly to Madoka and Homura. While the pairing of Madoka and Homura is perfectly fine as they're both children, Iroha and Yachiyo are not. Yachiyo is an adult and Iroha is a child. The anime, merchandise, and the unit of them together rub salt into this wound as dual units are mostly seen as ship units by fans. It's disgusting and not okay.
Yuma's abuse: Yuma is an abuse victim in Oriko Magica. (cw description of child abuse) Her father is absent (either neglectful or has left) and her mother, Mako, would beat and burn her with cigarettes as well as kick her out of the house for long periods of time. Her parents are killed in the original manga and she is taken in by Kyoko because of her similarity to her late sister Momo. In Extra Story she never contracts and is living happily with her grandparents.
Deep Waters:
Gan: Ugh again. Gan is the artist behind Suzune Magica (probably the least liked spin off lol) who is infamous for their clear lack of restraint in making children sexualised. Arisa has an outfit with circles right where her nipples are, Chisato has an outfit with a strip of fabric for a skirt and she is canonically uncomfortable with it and they love giving older characters enormous (and unrealistic) breasts. The art they draw of their UNDERAGE characters is always sexual and borderline pornographic and. Not. Okay. (even told by Magireco staff to tone down their puella historia character, haha fuck you)
Takashi Tensugi The illustrator for Kazumi Magica. Their disgusting taste is evident in the character design for the protagonists as well as sexual and revealing shots in the manga but I've also heard that they've drawn hentai before. No I'm not going to fucking look for that thank you. But... another bad egg in the spin off manga series... Not okay
Masugitsune ANOTHER BAD EGG! One of the illustrators for Tart Magica and also the illustrator for Yukika (you can tell where this is going). Sexualises minors, just like every madoka spin-off artist seems to... Has drawn Yukika in revealing swimsuits and bunny costumes as well as the rest of the Tart cast. Remember, they're all children----! NOT OKAY!
Riz's former companions names Omg thank god we're past the nonce section... Riz had unnamed magical girl companions in Tart Magica that have been slowly named by their artist. Their names are... pretty shit honestly as they're just named after their weapons. They are Machete, Frusta and Falce with one being still unnamed.
Kuroe was a marketing stunt: Not confirmed of course but... Kuroe was introduced at the very beginning of the Magia Record anime with her being the only new character. She disappeared for the rest of the series until the very end with a very lacklustre and ineffective ending. One could imagine that her inclusion and focus was to grip watchers into continuing with an otherwise pretty underwhelming series. But... take it how you wish...
Livia's backstory: Hey, this isn't new! I hear you say! Well, it's not new, but it's changed! The original iceberg said that her backstory may have been linked to a miscarriage but NOPE its worse! She was actually almost a victim of organ trafficking when she was a child. And later in life, she watched one of her friends die on her wedding day as she was run over by a tractor that she caused to malfunction...
Himena and Hiko: Himena's wish was for her boyfriend to be with her within her. After... her boyfriend committed suicide yaaayyy! (sarcasm) The end of this iceberg isn't very nice, is it? Her boyfriend didn't want to come back and now he's stuck with her forever.
Well... that's it! Sorry it became a bit of a bummer at the end...
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Have a plushy Charlotte for making it to the end! Yay!
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Wind tore through the trees, playing a hateful melody that cursed their names for the heinous act they’d just committed. Cerulean flames shot upwards from the summoning circle, dancing with the shadows born from its hellish light, and a deafening caterwaul of demonic screams accompanied the mass of distorted flesh and bone that manifested before them. When the conglomeration of disembodied parts took proper form, it left in front of them what was basically a color-inverted Black Hat, as was expected. Soft, large feathers poked out of the ribbon tied around the being’s silky white top hat, its body adorned with a pristine white suit. A royal blue brooch was pinned at the neck of its shirt, the same kind of sapphire-looking jewel that stood atop the scepter it held in its hand. One could almost call the creature angelic. Not the gentle, dainty brand of winged and haloed humans that one might find in a children’s book, but rather, the cryptic, horrifying kind of beauty found in biblical monstrosities, cramming its way into an ill-fitting humanoid form. Yet, there was nothing holy to be found in those eyes. Nothing at all to be found in them, in fact. Hollow, soulless eyes bore their way through Claire, their passing stare leaving a crawling sensation behind as though bugs were squirming beneath her skin, desperate for escape. It was only when its gaze fell on Long Moth next, that book in his hands, that any sort of interest crossed its face, however fleeting it may have been. Even worse was when the thing spoke to her superior in some sort of twisted eldritch tongue that grated on her ears, damn near making them bleed in the process.  Clearing his throat, Long Moth took a hesitant step towards the creature. “You are the being that’s known as White Hat, correct?” Recognition passed through White Hat’s features when its summoner spoke. It repeated itself, this time in a language the heroes could understand.  “How may I serve you?”
WELP, DIDN'T END UP GETTING CHAPTER 1 DONE BY OCTOBER LIKE I WANTED, BUT I FINALLY FINISHED THESE STUPID DRAWINGS I'VE HAD AS WIPS FOR MONTHS, SO I'LL THROW THIS OUT HERE AS WELL AS SOME WRITING SINCE I STILL TECHNICALLY OWED NOSY ANON A PROPER SNIPPET LMAO
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lorimnnn · 1 year
Text
Mine pt. 2 (Michael Myers x AFAB!Reader)
summary: before Michael was ever ‘The Shape’ of Haddonfield, he was just a boy. he was a boy in love with the girl across the road, his sister’s best friend--- the only girl to show him kindness, love and warmth. you.
Basically, Michael falls in love with his sister’s best friend at 6, who sometimes played emergency babysitter especially when Judith was fooling around with her bf. He clings to those memories growing up in the asylum until the day he breaks out, where he decides the first thing he wants to do is find you and keep you, your sunshine only for him. Reader is super girly and feminine, which just fuels michael’s possessiveness.
cw: gore, violence, kidnapping, obsession, manhandling, possessiveness, non-con themes
pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
welcome back @xprettyqueenx @bitchyglitterfox @ameliachastain  @agustdeeyaa @fanlovedlt @valen-yamyam16 @looseratinthegarage @quixscentsposts @sunshinexxmoonlight @sunshinexxmoonlight @hxrzvf  @poisonjoke @singingpianowings @babybooday @serryjailor @bdudette @blackholegladiator @imobsessedreader @cluelessyasmin​ @kittenfrostt @tooprettytoofeelshitty @alexsworldsstuff  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @abadnamee  @gremlinfuck @aromess @radioactive-mocha
~
Your breath shutters in your chest, and a violent tremor seizes at your hands. Tears threaten to fall from your eyes. They sting. They smell like fear. 
You know that whatever you do, you can’t let them fall. 
But you can’t help yourself. “Mikey?”
The last time you saw Michael Myers, you were 17, at the height of your senior year, and honestly with a few better things to do than cover for Judith when she decided to slack off with Danny. 
Not that you minded that precious little boy. 
Could you still call him precious?
You don’t dare to turn around. You don’t know what will happen if you do--- what will you see? What will it matter? A part of you needlessly clings to who he used to be. A part of you is certain that if you don’t turn around, you can still pretend a little while longer that nothing’s changed. 
Here’s little Mikey, inviting himself into your home because Judith is ‘having her own fun’, as you’d so eloquently put it in the beginning. You’re 17 all over again. You’re squeezed into a tackily patterned pink dress, lips swabbed with a glossy sheen, eyes defined the way everyone used to define them, cancelling on more plans because Judith couldn’t care less that other people lived other lives that could co-exist with hers, if she were considerate enough to open her eyes and find balance. He’s six, with floppy blonde hair and wide, seeing blue eyes. 
Your breathing comes faster, a heavy, wet whisper that stimulates your heart into painful, frantic pounding. Fuck. You’re so fucked. Who are you kidding?
You’re 32 and he’s 21 and he’s a serial killer and he’s standing behind you. Why he hasn’t made his move yet is beyond you, but even so--- do you want to know the answer?
A heavy hand curls over your shoulder. There is nothing gentle about it. Nothing familiar, but you don’t know what you’re supposed to be accepting after fifteen years. He’s demanding and impatient as he squeezes, almost enough for you to wince. 
You understand what he’s saying. Turn around. 
You do. Slowly, you do, and fuck. There he is. 
Staring at you with that expressionless latex mask, his features distorted, one eye peeking back at you through the hole. He’s huge. Broad shouldered and long-legged and built like a fractured god. 
The chills swamp you in seconds. 
“Michael,” you correct yourself. Because this isn’t Mikey. No. 
This is Michael Myers. 
And you’re going to die tonight. 
You eye the knife at his side, then glance back at the hand still clutching your shoulder. 
“Well?” you say. “Get it over and done with, then. Have at least enough respect to do it quickly.”
If he’s stunned, he says nothing. Either that or he’s really good at hiding it. He says stiff. Rigid, even. But what reason would the notorious Michael Myers have to be rigid around you?
Well, you have balls, for one. But that’s nothing new. It’s been so long since you’ve had to give a shit or cared to even pretend to, there’s no reason to start.
No time like the end to make the most of it, right?
You tilt your head back. “Go on. Do it.”
You wait. You wait and wait and wait. 
It seems like forever until he can show he’s processed your words at all. But the knife doesn’t move from his side. Neither does his hand move from your shoulder. He doesn’t even try step closer to you. 
Instead he just... Tilts his head at you. 
Confused. 
Any curiosity you have in return is quickly snuffed out the second he shoves you against the wall, his hand moving to your neck and collaring it in a harsh, iron grip. You choke. You sputter at the unexpected intrusion of your space. He’s not even squeezing hard, which makes it even more disorienting. You feel like you should be dying. You delude yourself into thinking you are, that your body is in denial, which is the only reason you can keep your eyes open. 
Michael Myers doesn’t speak. 
You don’t even know if he recognises you at all. Then again, why else is he in your house, and why else is he hesitating?
You don’t know what’s worse. Him knowing your or not knowing you at all.  “Michael?” His hand lingers a little longer before he releases you all together, your knees buckling when your feet hit the floor. You’re oversensitive. Everything feels like too much, your fear amplifying your senses as you wrestle between flight or fight.  “Don’t come any closer,” you warn. “You’re the one who changed your mind.” It’s obvious that he’s not used to following orders. Or maybe he is and is actively choosing not to--- all those years in the Sanitarium must’ve added up to something, if not some submissive trauma. You hate the rush of sympathy that seizes you when you think of it, only resolved by the bitter tang of horror as you remember why that little boy was sent to the asylum in the first place. 
You’re more scared now that you can’t predict him. It was easy enough when you were sure he was going to kill you, because that was what he did to everyone. But now?
Now you don’t know. 
You swear sharply when Michael lunges, seemingly not fast or agile enough to dodge him as he slams you into the wall, his body pressing against yours. You don’t even both fighting him, arms squished between you where you’d thrown them protectively in front of yourself. His face is so close to yours. That unsettlingly emotionless mask is too close. You can smell the silicone. The sweat. 
You can see his eyes through the holes. Icy, stark and blue. Pupils dilated as his gaze holds yours, as his breathing comes heavier, more laboured. You quickly realise why. 
His hands roam your sides. They grip. They grope. You hold in your scream as his fingers sink into your hips --- not enough to hurt, but enough to make his intention clear. You try squirm, you try shove him away. Nothing works. 
You can feel him against your belly. Hot. Hard, Probing. 
Where was the little boy you used to care for? Did he even exist? Did he exist at all now, somewhere deep inside this monstrous creature, hulking in size and ineffably superior, dominant, a symbol of fear? Did he know what he was doing when he was touching you like this, or were the hands that were touching you the hands of a stranger consumed by rage and blood thirst? 
You gag. You want to vomit. This is so wrong. Every part of you screams to escape, but he won’t let you. 
You clench your eyes shut. “No. No, no, no.”
He pushes harder against you, and you begin to tremble. 
You’ve never heard of Michael Myer’s victims being raped. It just wasn’t his thing. It wasn’t supposed to be his thing. 
Why start?
Why the fuck start with you?
“No, no, no.” You start to scream. “No! Fucking no!”
You shove him hard, even if it does nothing. 
“Get the fuck off me, you disgusting, deranged bitch!”
You shove him again, and this time he stumbles back three steps. They’re all hesitant, like he’s hurt or something. Good. 
“Fuck you,’ you spit. “Get out of here.”
He gives you one, last look. His eyes are eclipsed in the shadows, the distance making them hard to see. But you know he’s looking at you. Intently. Deliberately. 
Darkly. 
And then he’s gone. Just like that. 
When you open your eyes, the room is empty. The door is wide open, and the wind slips into the house, submerging it in a chill you can’t differ from your disgust and horror. 
On your porch is the corpse of the man you slept with last night. He’s mutilated, body angled in ways that make you sick. 
You don’t know anything. You know nothing, and you’re scared. 
But one thing remains clear. 
He’ll be back. 
__
Michael’s heart throbs in his chest. It is the most life it has had since he was a child, since he was watching cartoons on your sofa or watching you examine your reflection in the mirror. 
He’d stepped into the room, and it had beat. It had beaten so loudly, it’d sounded like thunder in his head. 
Mine, mine, mine. 
You were his. 
He’d touched you. Felt you. You were older but you were the same, and you were real. How he imagined you couldn’t compare to how you were now. 
Fuck. 
And to think someone had touched you that wasn’t him. 
Nobody would ever do that again. 
comment or follow to be tagged in pt.3!
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ophelian-darling · 1 year
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OMG YOU WRITE FOR MONSTER NOW!? The first post i read from you was about what type of darling giorno likes and oh my lord was it amazing. The way you wrote it and the sophistication of that post matched giorno so well and the dialogue "Please stay my innocent amore forever" was just 💕❤️ (i will absolutely steal that lmao)
anyways can i ask for general headcannons for yandere johan liebert? Anything you want to write about him is perfectly fine!
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Link of Giorno's post
TW: Obsession, emotional abuse, Murder threat.
enjoy ♡
The paradox of an existence is what paints Johan in a perfect light : the calm, comely curve of his lips masks all of the convulsing twistification under his pale skin. Similarly to an ocean, His comportment appears lovely to the eye, even a bit of depth under his eyes unfolds a picturesque image of a midnight chasm and a visible wisdom. However, the beauty and curiosity of exploring more discolors into a monstrosity and terror with each dive; showing an endless abyss of Nietzschean horrors. The lovely smile of his becomes a twist of depravity and never been a man so sane yet so insane all at once.
Shadows danced within his head, casting a distorted light with every move they made. It would sound unbelievable; but he really filled his imagination with paintings of you: sometimes shapeless, at other times blurry, But there was one detail that remained. 
Your lips; the wonder of them. Johan never had the capacity to think of someone in a particular manner -Other than connecting directly to his demise- yet he thought of your features more than he should. Every little detail was mesmerizing in his eyes; the blood drops in your lips, the contour of them and how they form to your emotions so lively. Unlike him, you were able to taste glimmering joys and dim sorrows, savor life as it is, not drowning in some of an anarchic pit of despair and conflict; and that made him crave some of the warmth you had.
Johan is completely calm around you, His posture plays perfectly and complies to his acting, acting that role of a good man around others and a good friend of yours (although these words of friendship or romance meant nothing to him, 'friend' wasn't correct, more like a sculptor and his muse) and coffining the monster away from others- you specifically. He doesn't want his Obsession and maladive affinity to surface and scare you away- at least not yet, not in a time when you could run away from him easily. 
Dreaming of being embraced and melted into you, or even having each other belong together and as one -like a Shadow and an Anima-  dwelled in him so many nights. Maybe he can regain his sentiment again? experience normality or maybe… take your own name? It didn't matter how, what was important that you were his salvation from the cruelty of everything. 
He has a way with words: not like a formal sparker or a reckless lover, but of a poet. Johan flows his speech as sweetly as honey and as softly as a rose petal, tugging at anyone's heartstrings with a warm feeling. When in flirtation, his words come out Cloudy; a thin string between Coquetry and Courtesy. However, When you receive that small billet-doux on your door, your heart is immediately pierced. 
You've never seen someone in a romantic light (minus some short-lived fixations) and you were almost sure that no one was willing to make a move on you -at least that's what you concluded from all of your acquaintances friendly behavior- and here you were, re-reading the small note over and over again, absorbing the beautifully written words and inhaling its fragrant Aroma of flowers. you held the paper like a bundle of nerves, very gingerly and benignly. There was a tickling skip of your heartbeat; a sudden flow of feelings rushing out as the echo of the words calmed, never been so fluttered before.
"Beloved, Of Thy Smile I adore,
  As Pure as a Seraph, As Beautiful as a long Dream
   Of what darling Bud you've flourished?  Of what Angel you've been carved? 
A Memory filled with hues of a divine Beauty, a heart with a wound so sore
 Draws Thee in the pale moon, Kisses Thee under the warm Gleam
Thorns Hurt yet don't pain,
Take them As the sweetest antidote 
All Oblations for Thou never in Vain
For All joy and love on you I dote."
-Your Wounded Cupid, Johan.
You Are blessed. Never in a blue moon you've thought about your Capacity to lure someone else, let alone Johan Liebert himself. You'd burn the last candles of thought and wonder, only to end up with no answer: Why me of all the loveliest, savviest or highest people that he chose me? The questions would die down soon to be replaced with another blissful feeling, feeling that was alive and meant to die…
'Emotions' are just a set of false faces. He can wear and crawl under any role of a normal human effortlessly. Johan loves your smile as much as he counts your tears; creating a path to your heart by offering you the mimicry of warm affection and a color of what Love appears as. You smile back- and that's a hope for a monster like him.
What is the meaning of a family? or a loved one? He asks you silently. He can't overlook that look of joy on your face whenever you spoke to a close person of yours, and it tugs something at his soul. Was Heaven the other people? He wants to ask as well; and wanting to hold your hand and go into the unknown, solaced that you'll be with him. The more he fixes his sight on your life, the more he comes to the realization that he can be your salvation as much as you're his. there is no need for others when you have him.
The peaceful world inside your mind crumbles apart, or better to say: reforms. Johan wouldn't say that everyone around you was evil out loud, he has just to expose the wickedness of others around you, how much they used you to their benefit, or twist their words and create the worst scenarios in your head… He didn't corrupt you for his enjoyment, he was just keeping the Lily of a human in Heaven. 
The Sweet fall of an Angel. He's now delighted, even more delighted. The sheer happiness you used to show faded into the clouds of despair; a crack through the rose-colored glasses broke its way through and through. Gorgeously Weak and beauteously Shattered, you're now left easy to be munched, chomped, gobbled and gulped; as to become one with him.
What affection meant to him: the absolute control and submission between two; dominion of the flesh and spirit in order to achieve the perfect union, and so he did. He's always been obsecure as Chaos, If never in a cruel way.
He was everything alluring and gruesome; a chiaroscuro painting of an Angel and a Devil, cruel to be kind, and kind to be cruel. Everytime you thought you catched a thread to pull in his persona, more tangles would unwrap. In other words, he wasn't one to be understood. 
Johan Contradicts his honeyed words in cruel actions: He can simply Call you the prettiest thing as he aims a bullet at you, taking delight at the sight of your cascading tears or the sound  of your incisioning sobs, at other times, He plants warm kisses on your hands and face, lacing his lips with venomous letters and twisting sayings, wanting to see the broken look on your face yet again, or maybe a pearl of a tear from your eye. He doesn't -would never- hate you, it's just that you were pretty when you cried. 
You've lost all of your weapons and winning Cards from the beginning. There wasn't luck or skill enough to defeat him, and you ought to be the most knowledgeable of the reality through his eyes: there was no one in the world except of you two, no heaven or hell except when you're together, and no force that shall banish you from him.
"Suffer with me"
"I know not of a meaning except of your love" 
"We belong together" 
"Ich bin du, und du bist ich"
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mochegato · 11 months
Text
Roadside Inspiration
“Eyes on the road!” Adrien’s voice boomed throughout the car; voice distorted through the car speakers.
Marinette squeaked, eyes snapping back to the road as the car swerved slightly, which on the backroad she was on, was particularly dangerous.  The roads were narrow with no shoulders.  There was barely enough room for two cars and no room for error.  “Don’t do that!” she screeched back, one hand flying to her chest to calm her now racing heart.  “And I am keeping my eyes on the road.  I know how to drive a car, Adrien!” she growled, fully ignoring the fact that at the time, her eyes were not, in fact, on the road.
“You’re seriously going to tell me you aren’t allowing yourself to get distracted looking for the perfect view in all the lavender?” he scoffed.
Marinette opened her mouth and snapped it shut.  “Yes,” she answered resolutely, with a curt nod to emphasize the point despite knowing full well that he couldn’t see it.
Adrien snorted at the baldfaced lie.  “Sure, Maribug.  We’re just leaving Marseilles now.  How far from the venue are you?”
“Prat,” she grumbled.  She may get easily distracted and she may not be used to driving a car, it wasn’t like she had many opportunities in Paris, but she was an excellent scooter driver and really, how different was it?  And she was keeping her eyes on the road!  It was just the occasional glance to the side to look at the stretching fields of lavender.  It was a positive thing really.  They encourage you to be aware of your surroundings when you drive!
And if she happened to look off to the side more than normal… she was looking for inspiration damnit!  The entire point of driving out ahead of everyone else was so she could take her time and stop frequently to take pictures of the lavender, looking for the perfect inspiration.  A perfect, glorious view that would spark some interest and get her heart pumping and her mind racing with possibilities.  She was on a deadline.  Her client wanted her sketches in two weeks.
She looked to the side and grabbed her phone, switching to camera mode with one swipe.  The sun was catching the rows of lavender, highlighting the pattern of the furrows, creating a captivating pattern.  She swerved slightly again and quickly corrected with an inaudible groan.  Maybe Adrien was onto something.  She really should stop when she wanted to take pictures.
“Depends on how many more times I stop.  Probably about…” she trailed off as her eyes caught on something entirely different than the lavender that had previously distracted her, “… half an hour,” she finished absently as the form of a man leaning up against a car with the hood up, took shape.  She slowed down as she eased closer and almost dropped her phone when the man turned away from his engine to investigate the noise.
Her brain froze for a minute and her breath left her lungs.  He was tall and broad in a shirt tight enough to know he kept himself very fit.  He looked like he could take care of himself, but even without being close enough to see the color of his eyes, she could see a softness.  His sharp facial features were softened by his rugged beard, that made her start to wonder how it would feel to run her hands through…
“Got distracted again, didn’t you,” Adrien chuckled.
“Yeah,” she answered absently, her eyes still on the incredibly sexy man in front of her as she pulled to a stop and turned off the engine.  “I’m going to let you go.”  She hung up the phone without waiting for his response.
The man straightened up with a sheepish smile that Marinette returned with false ease.  “Besoin d'aide?” she asked as she stepped around her car and took a cursory look over his engine, not that it would do much for her.  She knew a bit about engines, but almost exclusively motorcycle engines. Her nana had made sure if her scooter broke down, she’d have an idea of what was wrong and how to fix it.  But cars?  Unless it was out of gas, she was useless.
He stared at her wide eyed before shaking himself out of it. French.  She was speaking French to him, which granted, yeah, he should have expected, but she was beautiful, and he was having a hard enough time thinking without adding a language he hadn’t spoken for about six years before this week into the mix.  “Uhhh… No.  Non... Well… yes… oui.  Maybe.  Mais non.” He looked back at his engine accusingly before returning his eyes to her helplessly.  “Qui un moi appelle pour obtenir un petite aide?”
"Oh!  You're American!”  She chuckled lightly at his accent and attempt at French.  It was pretty bad, but he was trying and it was sweet.  And his looks definitely made his attempt seem even sweeter.  “Hi.”  She looked down slightly mortified to find her hand giving a small wave, as if it had decided to commit the act against her will, and immediately dropped it.
“Hi,” he responded immediately, with the same awkward wave.  He stared in her eyes for a few moments, a broad smile on his lips, before a loud bird call brought him back to the situation and he looked away embarrassed.  “Thank God you speak English.  It’s been a while since I had to speak French.  It’s kind of embarrassing how much I’ve let it go. But I don’t suppose you have a tow hook on that car of yours.”
It took her a few moments later to realize he’d started talking again, looking away from his eyes was a challenge.  Green eyes.  He had green eyes.  Worse than that, warm, kind, green eyes, her favorite kind.  She was in so much trouble.  She scrambled to review what he’d just said.  Something about a tow…
“Oh, right,” she looked down, her cheeks coloring as she did.  “Help, um… No, no tow hook.  Honestly don’t think my car would be able to handle it anyway. But I can look up the number for a tow truck and they can tow you to a mechanic.  I can translate if you need.  But honestly, your English was really good for not having used it in a few years,” she lied encouragingly.  She typed on her phone for a few seconds before looking up with a bright smile.  “Done.  My friend will have a tow truck come to these coordinates.”
His eyes widened and he blinked a few times before he found his voice again.  “That was quick!  I… Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course!  I’m glad I was able to help,” she chirped.  She looked at him for a few seconds, scouring her mind for something else to say.  It should not be this difficult to talk to a handsome man.  She was best friends with a former model for Christ’s sake!  Not able to find anything she looked back to the engine and down the road as if the tow truck could have magically appeared in the past few seconds.  “I can’t say how quickly they’ll respond though.  I have no idea about response times around here.”
“That’s okay,” he assured her with a grateful smile.  “There are far worse places to have broken down and definitely far worse situations than to be rescued by a beautiful woman.”
Her eyes snapped back to him, her cheeks immediately flushing. She was almost afraid to meet his eyes, fearing a leering look, but instead she was met with an earnest, rather shy gaze.  “Oh, um… thank you.”  She looked away quickly before her blush could extend any further down her body and immediately got distracted.
She hadn’t noticed when she first stopped, too distracted by the absolutely stunning man in front of her, but it really was a perfect view.  The lavender fields stretched out for miles in front of them, providing a sea of rich purple waving just slightly in the light breeze.  But it was the sky that perfected the view.  The sky wasn’t clear, which made it all the better.  Clouds stretched out from the horizon.  The sunset set the clouds aflame in a brilliant display of deep golds and bronzes until it darkened to a purple that seemed to reflect the lavender fields beneath.  It was everything she had been hoping to get pictures of for inspiration for her project.
“You’re right about the view.  I don’t know if you could get a better view.  It’s like you somehow happened upon the most perfect sight in France.  The clouds are gorgeous, and the lighting is perfect,” she trailed off at the end.
He watched her as she moved in a fog across the road and through the embankment to the fields, phone out and clicking as she took pictures. “Yeah, it’s… it’s uh…”  He lost his train of thought as he noticed the light wash over her, the setting sun casting its last rays to bathe her face in warm hues. “… perfect,” he finished breathlessly. He shook his head as she moved too far ahead for him to see her face and followed her into the field.
He didn’t mind watching her from behind, but he’d much prefer to see her face.  “Yeah, I’m pretty lucky,” he agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving her.  The calm breeze was rustling the lavender just enough to make its presence known and blow the occasional strands of hair into her face.  His fingers itched to brush them away for her.  He was almost lulled into a peaceful daze by the breeze and the birds welcoming the evening with their sedated calls until a harsh noise broke the reverie.
Marinette jerked wildly, almost dropping her phone again when the ringing broke through the quiet.  She glanced down at the screen and rolled her eyes, instantly silencing it and returning to her pictures.  “This really is incredible,” she noted, not even really speaking to the man anymore. “So inspiring.  This might be exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he agreed as he watched her, not even really sure what he was agreeing to.  “Are you a photographer?” he asked after a few moments.
“Designer,” she answered distractedly.  Her eyes never left the scene in front of her.
The smile on his face grew as he watched her crouch and contort herself into the most awkward positions to get pictures.  “I’m Will,” he called out.
“Marinette,” she offered without looking away.
He chuckled at the tone.  She was completely enthralled.  It was entirely possible he could leave and she wouldn’t notice.  In fact, he was pretty positive that was the case, which would not do at all.  He opened his mouth to ask her another question but was interrupted by another call.
Marinette blinked and looked at her phone again for just a second before groaning.  “Oh, what the… annoying, hovering git,” she grumbled before silencing it again and taking a few more pictures from different angles.
Will raised an eyebrow at her.  “Do you need to get that?”
“No,” she waved him off but cringed almost immediately, bobbing her head to the side.  Her eyes slid to him for a moment and back to the view in front of her.  “Well, eventually.  If I don’t answer he’s going to break all sorts of laws to get here to save me.”
A sinking feeling hit Will.  He should have realized a woman like her wouldn’t be single.  Of course she had someone.  Probably a fucking model or doctor or something.  “Boyfriend?” he asked casually, dreading the answer.
“No, just a friend, though granted he is a boy.  He was already nervous because I was driving by myself, and I don’t drive… not a car anyway, and I took the long way so I could see the fields.  He’s with the person I asked to call the tow truck, so now he’s panicked because clearly you must be faking it, you know, lying about being broken down for some nefarious reason.”  She leaned in as she said it like it was an inside joke.
Will chuckled tightly; his lips pulled into a tight smile that he hoped didn’t look too much like a grimace.  While this instance was absolutely real, it was a trick he’d pulled before for a mission.  “No, no nefarious plot to draw in stunning women, just a broken-down car.”
She managed to eke out a non-committal hum before looking down, suddenly finding the lavender near her feet fascinating as a shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips.  “Fortunate for me, unfortunate for you.”
Will grinned brightly.  “I’m starting to think maybe it wasn’t so unfortunate after all.”
Her cheeks blazed dark enough that it couldn’t be passed off as an effect of the lighting.  She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear both to keep it from blowing in her eyes again and to hide her face while she blushed.  “So..” her mouth hung open as her phone interrupted her again.  “Oh my G…” she froze again mid-word.  “Oh!  It should be all good now though.”
He blinked at her, unsure what that meant.  He searched the road for a sign of the tow truck in case that’s what she meant.  But the area was just as desolate as it had been since he broke down.  “Okay…?”
“That was our other friend, the one that called the tow truck, saying you’re safe.”  She gave him a brilliant smile that put the scenery to shame in its beauty.  “That should get Adrien to stand down before he goes on an overprotective war path and violates every possible traffic law to get here.”
“I’m safe?” he repeated uncertainly.  “I mean,” he added quickly, “I am, but…”
“I sent him a picture of you and your license plate when I sent my coordinates,” she cut in, her smile never fading.  “He ran a ch…”
“You sent him my picture and license?” he asked surprised.
She gave him a flat look.  “Well yeah,” she scoffed like it was the most ridiculous question she’d ever heard.  She pointed to herself.  “Woman.” She waved around vaguely.  “In the middle of nowhere.  With no witnesses.  At night. You may be hot, but I’m not stupid.” She paled almost instantly; her eyes widened for a moment before clamping closed as she dropped her head into her hands.  “Maybe I am.”
He couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his lips.  His chest puffed out and he crossed his arms casually, making sure to plant his fists under his biceps to accentuate them. He’d let her know he thought she was stunning twice, not that he was counting, but this was the first time she’d indicated that she reciprocated, and he definitely wanted to encourage that. “That was really smart.  I’m impressed.  Most people wouldn’t have thought to do that.  So, I take it I passed?”
“More than passed,” she nodded.  Her eyes caught on his arms for a moment before she met his eyes. Her cheeks flushed again at having been caught, but she narrowed her eyes at his smug smirk.  “You must have really impressed him, otherwise you would have gotten a ‘seems okay, so far’.  But you got a ‘he’s safe’.  You have to be a superhero or be a veterinarian or just save kittens in your spare time or something.”
It was only the years of training that stopped him from reacting to the statement.  He smiled, much more natural, despite being forced, than his smile after the nefarious comment, but it was close.  “I’ve saved a cat or two and quite a few birds,” he huffed out a single laugh at his own joke.  “But I run a security company.  That must be what he found.”
Marinette scoffed.  “Unlikely.  No offense but running a company doesn’t mean anything.  If anything, we’ve learned not to trust anyone who runs their own company.”
“What’s wrong with owning your own company?” he asked uncertainly.  She snickered at his indignation.  “No, really. I’m very secure,” he assured her hastily.  Her smile brightened even further until her eyes were crinkling at the edges.
He pursed his lips at her obvious amusement at his expense.  “I mean, I’m very good at my job,” he rephrased more cheekily.  He shot her a charming smile and took a step closer so he was towering over her but not invading her space.  “And my job is safety.  I make sure the things under my care are safe.”
She studied him for a moment appraisingly, her grin turning playful.  “I’m sure you do,” she agreed placatingly.  She kept studying him for another moment, letting him study her in return, before nodding toward the car.  “Come on,” she prompted softly, “it’s getting dark.  We should probably get back to the cars.”
He blinked a few times before her words registered.  “Oh right.  After you.”  He motioned to the path in front of them.
Marinette snorted.  “Or together,” she offered instead.  “There’s enough room for both of us.”
He chuckled.  His grin broad and boyish after her suggestion.  “Together,” he nodded.  “Together’s better.”  He just barely restrained himself before his hand met with the small of her back.  He pulled his hand back and shoved it into his pocket.
“So, what brings you here?” she asked after a few silent steps.
“To France or…” he motioned around them.
“Either,” she shrugged.  She turned to face him without slowing down, walking backward so she could look him in the eyes while they spoke.  “Both.”
He met her eyes, relishing the way the last strains of the sun reflected in them, but constantly keeping the ground behind her in his peripheral vision in case any obstacles appeared.  “I came for a big security conference.  A bunch of experts in the field talking about new security measures and new hacking threats.”
“Oh!  The one in Marseilles?” she perked up instantly, almost tripping over a small rise in the dirt.  His hands darted out to her forearms in an instant to steady her, but she fell a bit too fast and almost faceplanted into his chest.  She looked up into his eyes, so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, but it was how his hands felt on her arms and the look in his eyes that was overwhelming her brain, making it impossible to think of anything else.  Safety. He was right.  He really was good at it.
She finally took a step back and cleared her throat lightly.  “Sorry. You wouldn’t believe how clumsy I am.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets again.  “It’s okay.  I didn’t mind.  Guess you were right, I am a hero.”  She snorted but it had the effect he was going for; she grinned and shook her head as she started walking forward again.  “But, yeah, Marseilles.  How did you know?” he prompted again.
“My friend, the friend who looked you up, spoke about ways to use AI to protect and insulate data from hackers.  He was really excited about it,” she answered, the tone of pride could not be missed.
Will paled instantly but plastered on a slightly less convincing smile.  Max Kante. Max Kante gave that talk.  He knew because Will was only in France in the first place because of Max Kante.  Bruce paid for Will to attend the conference in France because, as the owner of a security company, he would seem the least suspicious.  A perfect cover to observe a potential new asset for the Justice League.  A new asset that had the capability to uncover Will’s past affiliations.
He studied Marinette closely from the corner of his eye, looking for any indication that her previous comment was better informed than he had thought it was at the time, but she continued walking with ease, her body relaxed, and her expression content rather than the knowing glint he would have expected.  She was either an amazingly talented actress, or she had no idea.  No.  If Will had to put his money on it, he’d wager it was just a very lucky guess.
They walked next to each other, sometimes swaying close enough to brush against one another for a few steps and gazing at the other shyly. “You’re pretty far from Marseilles,” she noted when they got to the cars.
“Yeah… I’m aware.  Very far from my hotel,” he sighed.
Marinette could barely drag her eyes from his figure. He was leaning back against the side of the car, hands still shoved into his pockets, legs stretched out, and ankles crossed casually.  She swallowed thickly.  “What… um… what brought you way out here?"
He chuckled and nodded to the field in front of them. “The lavender.  I wanted to get some pictures.  Same as you, apparently.”
“That’s a long way to travel for some pictures,” she noted, propping herself up on the edge of the car’s trunk.
He chuckled.  “It’s really not.  Not for an American.  Driving 6 hours, now that’s a long way.  One hour? That’s a commute to work.”
She stared at him, eyes wide, trying to ascertain if he was joking or not.  “That’s crazy,” she declared upon deciding he was not.
“I don’t disagree,” he chuckled.
She continued to stare at him for a few seconds before shaking her head.  “Americans.”
He shrugged but looked up to meet her eyes through his lashes, almost cautiously.  “I promised my daughter I’d check them out.”
She sat up straight.  “You have a daughter?” she asked.  Contrary to the disinterest he’d feared, she seemed excited about the news, interested to find out more.  He grinned wildly and pulled out his phone.
“Yeah.  Lian. Here.”  He turned his phone to show her the lock screen; a shot of him twirling Lian around, both laughing brightly.  
“Awww.  She’s adorable,” she gushed.
“Thanks.  Yeah, she is. She was really upset she couldn’t come with me.”  A sappy smile appeared as he spoke about his daughter.
“I’m with her,” she nodded resolutely with mock derision. “I would have been upset too. Going out to see such beautiful sights without her.  Terrible thing to do to a girl.”
“Hey!  It’s her fault I’m here,” he objected with a chuckle.  He leaned in closer like he was passing on a secret.  “I would have happily stayed in my hotel for my stay, focused on making some connections.  She decided to help by searching for what I could see while I was in France.  Luckily, I got to her before she saw anything more than these fields.  There are far worse things she could have seen while searching for ‘pretty things for a daddy to see in France’.”
“Oh no!  She didn’t!” she gasped, horrified at the possibilities.
“Oh, she did.  I had to have a long discussion with her grandfather about child safety settings and the internet.”  He chuckled and leaned back against the car, but still closer than he had been before. “She’s with her grandfather while I’m here.  Probably running circles around him and getting spoiled absolutely rotten while watching wildly inappropriate videos on YouTube.”
Marinette’s eyes softened.  “Grandparents are good for that.  She sounds like a handful.”
“She absolutely is,” he agreed.  He took one last, wistful look at his phone before tucking it into his pocket.  “How about you?”
She blinked, then blinked again.  Nope, that was still what he asked.  “Excuse me?”
His eyes widened in realization.  “What brings you here!” he clarified hastily.  “It’s a long way to travel for some pictures,” he repeated back to her.
“Oh.”  She chuckled, blood rushing to her cheeks again.  She ducked her head, letting her hair curtain around her face until her cheeks could return to their normal color and she nodded up the road.  “My friend is getting married nearby in a few days.”
He leaned closer and ducked his head to catch her eye. “The annoying one?” he teased.
She snorted.  “Yes, but in a different way.  No. Not the one I mentioned before.  He’s also in the wedding though, as is my counter-hacker.”  She furrowed her brow and pulled out her phone to check the time.  “Speaking of… I have to get to the hotel for the final fittings soon.  I can wait with you for a bit longer or…” she bit her lip anxiously as she looked down the road, drawing Will’s attention straight to her lips, “I can’t give you a ride to Marseilles, but I can give you a ride to the next town over or the hotel we’re staying at.  You can find a ride back from there.”
Will made a show of looking at his watch discreetly. “It will probably take the tow truck a while to get here and it is getting pretty dark.  And if I can get someone to provide the part, I can fix the car myself tomorrow.  I don’t have anywhere I need to be tonight, though I am getting hungry.  I wouldn’t mind a ride, if you don’t mind and if your counter-hacker can ask them to tow it to wherever you take me.”
Marinette grinned.  “I can do that.  As for food, there’s a place close to the hotel that we found when we scouted the hotel. It’s not fancy, but I liked it. They’ve got a great Flaugnarde.  I have to do the fittings, but it shouldn’t take me too long.  I can show you the restaurant.”
“That sounds perfect,” he assured her as he followed her to her car.  “I can get a room and check in with my daughter while you’re doing the fittings. Then we can get a floo… thing.  It’s my favorite.”
She chuckled at him, amusement pulling her lips up at the corners.  “You’ve never had one, have you?”
“No, no I have not,” he admitted, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “but I’m dying to try it.  How about I buy you one as a thank you?”
She grinned.  “Throw in a glass of wine and you have yourself a deal.”
“How about wine, a fla… thing…, and dessert.  Unless it’s a dessert in which case, I’ll throw in the meal.  Or if it’s a drink I’ll throw in the meal, dessert, and it.”
She chuckled and looked away shyly, her cheeks blazing even more than before as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth. “Flaugnarde,” she said quietly. She looked back up at him with a shy smile.  “It’s a dessert and that sounds…” she trailed off when she saw him.  The last bastions of the sun flared behind him, setting off his red hair like flames and making him seem like a modern day Hou Yi after shooting down the ninth sun.  Her heart thundered in her chest as her mind started racing with possibilities.  “…perfect,” she finished breathlessly.
“Do you need any more pictures for your inspiration?” he asked before opening the door.  “Or should we go?”
“No,” she smiled at him as she slid into the car, “I think I’ve finally found mine.”
*The lavender scene is inspired by this image: https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/lavender-fields-france-provence-1440137069
*Will Harper is Roy Harper’s clone and Lian’s father in Young Justice
@maribat-calendar-events
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androdragynous · 8 months
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Made a little list of accessibility feature thoughts mostly for myself but feel free to share it / comment to add your own. Might be helpful for gamedev or for modders wanting to make something more accessible. Below a break so it's always updated - I'll update it when other things get suggested or I think if something, it's definitely not an exhaustive list as-is.
The list:
gameplay visuals:
Flashing / strobing effects toggle
Blur / distortion effects toggle
Motion blur toggle
Camera bob / reduce camera wobble toggle
Motion sickness reduction options in general if the above don't cover it
Particle effects toggles
UI / text:
Light / dark texture toggles (ex. replacing a bright white snow texture with a darker, bluer texture)
Field of view sliders
UI scaling + color options
Caption scaling + color options
Voiced UI options
Text labels on icons
Clear and readable design choices - no accessibility feature is useful if it can't be found in the settings
Reduced effects / movement / animations in menus
general visuals:
Separate brightness scaling for backgrounds and objects / characters (ex, darkening backgrounds and lightening characters for clearer visibility)
Color correction options
controls:
Custom button mapping
Motion control options
Different controller type capabilities
One-handed control schemes
Reversed / left-hand-dominant control schemes
audio:
Sound cues for collisions with walls / objects
Step sounds changing to indicate being on / off a path
Directional sound cues for objectives (ex. Nirnroot)
Directional captions
Sound effect / non-dialogue captions
general gameplay
Volume sliders for each sound category (music, SFX, dialogue, etc)
Disabling sudden / shrill / static noises options
Pause at any time
Save at any time
Warnings / information/ options on startup about accessibility toggles so they can be implemented before gameplay starts
Disable / extend timers on quick time events
Auto lock / aim assist sliders
difficulty adjustments
Invincibility / god mode options
Damage scaling options (both damage dealt and damage received)
"Guide" mode options (having an NPC buddy)
misc
Low / no combat modes (when possible)
Low / no pressure modes (for non combat games)
-phobia toggles: obviously would vary based on the game and what it's meant to include, but along the lines of Dark Soups's blood toggle or the arachnophobia sliders in Grounded
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fridayyy-13th · 7 months
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so i am an ardent Sasha James Enjoyer, and as such i very much dislike fanon!Sasha. her personality and character do a near-complete 180 from canon to fanon, making it tough as hell to find fics that don't just make her the Braincell Mom Friend—if she's even featured—and i took that personally. i'm a fic writer, and i have quite a few WIPs bouncing around in my flash drive that feature her in at least some capacity, and i certainly didn't want to add to the pile of fics where Sasha is Like That. so, a while ago i re-listened to every episode she appears in and Compiled A List of Sasha Trivia, just random bits of info that caught my attention that help me keep a clear image of her character in my head. with maybe a little bit of headcanon thrown in there for fun.
so! without further ado: various Sasha notes bc i love her
never had any direct interactions/experiences with the supernatural before the Distortion
afraid of rollercoasters, doesn't like horror
considered herself a skeptic, thought working in the Institute made her moreso
had a "dreary" commute to work, liked peeking through the old warped windows of her building's stairwell bc it made people distort like a funhouse mirror
a bit of a pedant (calliope)
was more sympathetic towards Martin than the other two were after he gave his first statement in 022, felt bad for him being the target of Jon's ire
sososo curious, to the point it can overpower fear
deliberately didn't tell Jon about her initial encounter with the Distortion bc she knew he'd try to discourage her from going, which she'd already decided to do (stubborn)
of course, followed the Distortion (a whole-ass monster) to a cemetery in the dead of night without telling anyone about it
(she did so because it sounded like it knew a way to save Jon's, Tim's, and Martin's lives, and in the wake of Prentiss targeting Martin, she decided she couldn't take that chance)
"without thinking" she figured out how to kill the worms using CO2. i like to think that was some Knowing right there
Jon considered her the most "level-headed" of the team, and trusted her to be telling the truth
was the one to ask if Jon was okay after being caught off-guard by his surprise party (and was also the one who said it was "kind of fun, giving you a heart attack")
knew Jon was lying about his age, knew about Martin's CV (goes through her coworkers' files)
despite having hacked her way into said confidential files, she considered being recorded during Jon's birthday party an invasion of privacy
bullied Tim into stapling statements that one time
Tim was more outwardly upset by Jon's being promoted instead of Sasha than she was. she knew if she said anything about it she'd just wind up in trouble, so she kept her mouth shut
had been in academia for ten years by the time the Archives transfer occurred
knew about Danny and the reasons Tim joined the Institute
didn't think there was such a thing as a "real you," save for the actions one takes. considered everything else a mask put on for others
was dead-sure (and was correct in thinking that) Gertrude kept the Archives a mess for a reason, and was concerned about what the reason could be
and that's about all! alas it would have been wonderful if we'd gotten the chance to learn more about her, but given she's only in six episodes, some only for a moment, she really is jam-packed full of character and life. i love her so much.
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detailtilted · 11 days
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Next Enhanced Video In Process - CHICON 2008
WARNING: Heavy camera flashes below.
I thought I'd post an update in case anyone's curious. After finishing Comic-Con 2008, I moved on to CHICON 2008. The videos for the main panels are decent and they're upscaling nicely, but you'll all hate the quality of the Breakfast video. I'm doing that one first.
I made some improvements to the originals which are explained and shown below, but I couldn't upscale them. Jared came out ok, probably because he was closer to the camera, but even the most light-handed approach distorted Jensen's features too much.
However, one thing I improved were the flashes. The original videos are nuts. Flashes have been bad on other videos too, but I think the lighting in the room made them stand out worse here. I was afraid they'd give someone a seizure or something so I found a way to reduce them. I probably won't do this again on other videos because I used a free trial that expired and I've already put way too much money into software for this pet project. I don't think it'd work as reliably on the less dramatically flashy videos anyway, but I may reconsider the purchase if I encounter more videos like this down the road.
I also tried to do some color corrections, but it's erratic. Suppressing the flashes doesn't change the real life effect they had on the lighting in the room. Maybe that's why the color correction settings I applied didn't have consistent results throughout the video. I separated out some longer segments of drastically different colors and fixed them independently, but there was just too much fluctuation. Individually analyzing and correcting all 37,440 frames is way beyond the scope of this project (and my patience) and would probably require more lifetimes than I have.
Anyway, I wanted to post a short comparison video so people can see the difference. I think when people just see the enhanced video by itself they'll be like, "this sucks!" I was hoping people might not hate it as much if they've seen how it originally looked. I think the "enhanced" version, once I publish it, will be the best version that's been posted to date, even if it's still crappy.
This video has three 30-second samples:
Original version of Breakfast video.
My modified version.
Sample of upscaled main J2 panel to prove it will get better again after the Breakfast video. (No flashes removed. You can see them, but I think they're less painful.)
I've also made other adjustments that aren't seen in that sample:
The best-quality video has interruptions because the video taker also took pictures. This caused the frame to freeze and the sound to cut out. When possible, I edited in an alternate lower-quality video at those moments. I also edited in the alternate video to cover brief segments missing in the main videos.
The only other video that has the 1st two minutes is one where the video taker was scared to be too obvious about what they were doing and so recorded their legs and random non-J2 objects instead. 😂 But it was still helpful, because I substituted that video's audio in for the sections that cut out on the primary video due to the picture taking. We'll still have a few freeze frames in the first two minutes, but at least we can hear what was going on.
Speaking of hearing, there were some truly ear-shattering screams when Jared and Jensen first came out. I lowered the volume a little in those moments to save your ears some trauma.
This breakfast video will be the next one I release, but my video releases will be increasingly slow. I have something going on in real life that's eating up most of my spare time and will probably continue to do so off and on for most of this year. Nothing bad, just very time-consuming. This is a shorter video though, and I'm already well into the work on it, so hopefully it won't take too long.
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tanadrin · 3 months
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"can I tell this person trans?" and "does this person pass?" are kinda different questions to me. Almost everyone is assigned a binary gender by my brain. This is involuntary, though I have limited control of which gender similar to how you can switch between seeing a vase and two people in that optical illusion. Like "look at this picture as a girl with a penis" and "look at this same picture as a man with a saggy chest" is a coherent thing to do.
"Does my brain naturally assign this person the correct gender?" and "can I force my brain to gender this person correct?" (with more standard presentations being easier to correctly assign). I might be able to tell someone is trans, but my brain may still naturally assign them the correct gender. If I can't get my brain to correctly gender them, then I am forced to consciously correct pronoun usage. Sometimes there is even abstract pain in using the correct pronoun if my brain is insistent on assigning them the wrong gender. Non-binary people, having a gender that my brain does not understand, require me to manually correct every time. :(
If I am in sufficiently weird mood, even cis people can be assigned the wrong gender.
This automatically assigned gender is one of the most salient features someone has.
I have a really strong to desire for other people's brains to classify me correctly, not merely that they successfully pretend that their brains do. Though like them successfully pretending is way better than them misgendering me.
anyways it seems likely that lots of people have this sort of involuntary gender classifications, though it might be more obvious in my case because mine is somewhat broken.
Must be nice being someone who can internalize LBGT orthodoxy. :(
Almost everyone is assigned a binary gender by my brain. This is involuntary, though I have limited control of which gender similar to how you can switch between seeing a vase and two people in that optical illusion. Like "look at this picture as a girl with a penis" and "look at this same picture as a man with a saggy chest" is a coherent thing to do.
I can't be sure of course, but I think this is true for most people. It's why even inveterate transphobes can't help but accidentally gender trans people with very stereotypical gender presentations correctly some of the time.
I have a really strong to desire for other people's brains to classify me correctly, not merely that they successfully pretend that their brains do. Though like them successfully pretending is way better than them misgendering me.
This too I suspect is pretty normal. We are all more comfortable feeling like we inhabit our identities effortlessly, and not like other people are just humoring us!
Must be nice being someone who can internalize LBGT orthodoxy. :(
I think when you're thinking about gender attitudes in term of "LGBT orthodoxy" or "LGBT heresy" you have either been marinading in some truly acrid discourse, or you have a distorted view of how people relate to this stuff in real life (maybe you spend too much time on twitter). I don't know anyone who really treats this stuff with the fervor of religious dogma, or who demands that other people never even admit in their inmost heart of hearts to occasionally misgendering someone, or having to exert effort to remember the pronouns of somebody who's recently socially transitioned. Maybe your experience is different--there are some real assholes in the world. But you shouldn't worry too much about the opinions of assholes.
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angelosearch · 19 days
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I am struggling today, and writing helps.
When I think about the difference between having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD), I think of the internal frame of a skyscraper that is being built higher and higher as you age. That skyscraper represents your experiences and who you are, and the internal frame is your sense of self and understanding of the world.
When an acute traumatic event occurs, it blasts a hole in the internal beams. If the trauma is coped with immediately, the hole can be repaired, and little changes about the overall structure.
If the trauma is not treated or recognized for any reason, the crew continues to build the frame upward and constructs the building around it, even though the blast will leave that section brittle and prone to collapse. That’s how I understand PTSD.
C-PTSD is not about a single blast, it’s about a sustained traumatic environment like when living in a war zone or growing up as an abused child.
C-PTSD is an unqualified or purposefully negligent, cruel construction team building a frame that defies protocol or engineering guidelines. They may build on rainy days when the conditions are inappropriate and weaken the materials, or they may use the wrong tools. The frame doesn’t look or function as it should, but it keeps standing, and the building is built around it. All the floors above that section have to contend with the soddy construction below and may make unusual or dangerous architectural choices to keep the building standing.
Both PTSD and C-PTSD result in a damaged internal structure that may not be visible, even if you’re inside the completed building. All you may notice is that the walls and soffits are at different angles than other buildings, but the building shakes and groans and the façade is cracking in places – it knows something is wrong, even if it can’t name it.
There is no real comparison between the damaged skyscrapers because they both have diminished structural soundness in different ways. Treatment must begin with tearing down walls and looking at the skeleton either way.
In PTSD, if logs are available (and sometimes they are not – the mind can suppress traumatic memories), they show the day the hole was blown, so at least we know roughly what floor to start on.
In CPTSD, the blueprints, the logs, they all say the same thing, it has always been this way. You don’t know anything about architecture, you’ve never seen anything else built, how would you know anything was wrong? And even when you do, the ripple of corrections has completely distorted your understanding of the records.
I am trying to repair my CPTSD.
In CPSTD, where do you start the repairs? You go to one floor and realize the damage goes somewhere even lower, somewhere even deeper. Rooms and floors the elevator never had access to are appearing. The ways the beams had to curve and strain in some areas to accept this and understand that are knit into such complex reliance that a fix may actually destroy something. In some areas, it’s all bubble gum and paper clips. Replacing it with something sturdier may send a beam through a wall. Sure, it’s stronger now, but it may not look as good.
And the engineers in charge of this project? They are terrified. Because sure we all want a stable, healthy building to live in, but it’s been standing, why are we messing with it? How long is this going to take? What if we have to dismantle an “error” that had curb appeal, or a handy shortcut that barely worked but saved us some time now and again? Will people come back if that “feature” is gone? If this all has been so wrong for so long, what does that mean? Is this even a building at all? Do we need a new construction crew? Is this area even zoned for a skyscraper in the first place?
And while we replace the insides of the structure below, we must find a way to build upward and trust ourselves to do it right this time.
The more healed I am, the more I know about myself, the more I fear the person I’ve been and question my own understanding of the world. My therapist challenges me to consider alternatives to my thought processes. “What if you’re not wrong? What if you are safe? What if you’re allowed to make mistakes?” Yes, what if? This is such an unknown, modern design for my internal frame.
And the engineers have been wrong before.
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juniperwoodwell · 10 months
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Dedication
Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 |
Kylo Ren x F! Reader
Word count:5k
Warning(s): I'm not sure rn, proceed with caution I guess.
Summary:As a Captain in the First Order, Y/N has never been one to bring attention to herself unless it was commanding her squadron. What happens when a personal hobby make's her prey to one of the most feared men in the universe?
A/N 1: I'm so sorry this took so long to get out! I had a hard time writing these few week. This is only half edited because an hour ago my mom went to the hospital, but I wanted to get this out for you guys. I will edit it in the future! ❤️
A/n 2: Btw, I decided to try something else for splitting up the scenes , any words in bold red letters is the beginning of a new scene. Lmk if you like that better than the dots.
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"You're right on time."
 The deep tone of his distorted voice sent shivers down her spine. She stared at the back of the mountainous man in front of her; swallowing her nervousness, she cleared her throat and stood beside him.
"What can I do for you, sir?"
Kylo turned his head slightly to analyze her momentarily, then looked back at his ship.          
"Why did you disobey direct orders?"
"I-I don't understand-"
"You snuck onto my ship while I was away and after hours."
Y/n bit her lip and sighed;
Well, might as well get this over with.
 "I know the risks, Sir, But the information I gathered was vital to my success. I don't want to disappoint you." Her last sentence was mumbled, admitting that hurt her pride.
Kylo hummed and nodded. "Well, since you disobeyed my orders, there will be a punishment." His tone darkened.
"I understand..." This was it; my desire to always succeed would be the end of me.
 "You will do a pre-test. No data pad, no notes."
 "What?" Her head snapped in his direction; she expected to be dead already.
"You heard me. Let's go."
 The inside of the Silencer was cramped, to begin with, but now it was almost suffocating.      
Kylo sat in the Pilots seat; his presence alone seemed to fill the tight space with a tense atmosphere. Y/n stood beside him so she could access the flight computer.
"I-Is this necessary, sir?"
 Kylo had his hands folded in his lap and nodded. "I need to see you doing it. It'd be useless if I were down there."
Y/n nodded, rolling up her sleeves. "I do suppose so, Sir."
"You may start."
Kylo's POV: (-Example- : Y/n's thoughts)
"You may start."
He watched as she crouched down and turned on the flight computer; no better option other than the floor, he supposed.
He didn't care if she got it right or wrong. He was too caught up in his thoughts;
She was certainly strange. She's always so anxious around me but still manages to back-talk me.
He closed his eyes as he began listening to her rushing mind. It brought some sense of calmness to his constantly overwhelmed one.
- Shit, If he knows about last night, what else does he know? Does he know about my mother? -
He opened his eyes and turned his head, looking at her profile. Her eyebrows were knitted as she worked on the computer.
Her mother? Does she mean her biological or stepmother?
"Your father isn't your biological father isn't that correct?" He asked, watching as she turned to him.
Shock etched into her attractive features. "How'd-"
"I did a background check on you when you requested this assignment."
"Oh, well...yeah. My mother divorced him and left us both. My bio father is unknown."
Kylo hummed. "Does that mean your father's wife is your stepmother?"
Y/n nodded, Turning back to the computer. "She's more of a mother to me than my real one."
"Oh? And why's that?" He smirked as he watched her physically tense up.
-Oh, Fuck.-
 "I...Well. My biological mother was hardly there for me growing up, and after she married Raife, my father. She only became more distant. Then divorced my father to join the new republic, and I haven't seen her since." She sighed. "My stepmother took me in as her own; she was super protective of me as a child and was against me joining the first order."
- Why am I spilling my secrets to him!?-
Kylo chuckled at her thoughts, though it came out as a distorted crackle, catching her attention. "Your mother joined the new republic?"
Y/n sighed,
-Too much information, dumbass. Way to dig your own grave. Again.-
" Yeah...She's some big-shot counselor now, but like I said. But as I said, I haven't seen her since the divorce- Oh, wait- Actually, that's a lie. She did try to reconnect a few years ago, tried to convince me not to join the first order, but I told her to politely fuck off."
Kylo sensed anger in her tone as she fiddled with the computer. "I see."
Silence filled the space; Kylo shut his eyes and listened to Y/n's mind, He searched for more information about her mother, but her mind was so filled with overwhelmed thoughts that it made it difficult to navigate. Kylo had never experienced such an active mind; It fascinated him.
The silence and his investigation were interrupted when a bang echoed in the cockpit, followed by a hissed-out curse.
"Fuck!"
 He opened his eyes to see Y/n standing now, rubbing her head. Frustrated by something,
 How is it that every time I'm one way, she manages to be the complete opposite? Like now, I'm the most relaxed I've been in weeks, and she's completely stressed out and frustrated.
"Are you alright?"
He asked suddenly. Startling them both, It's a very known fact that Kylo Ren is not one to care for others,
 "Y-Yeah, Sorry, Sir. Low ceilings."
He stared at her momentarily, an idea forming in his mind.
Y/n's POV:
This whole situation is bull- Why is he asking so many questions? Why this freaking Pre-Test as a punishment? Does he really need to be here? Why is he asking about my mother?
-ERROR: INCORRECT-
The screen showed those words in bright red lettering; she groaned softly.
This is stupid.
She ran her hands over her face and stood up. Too frustrated to remember the low ceilings,
"Fuck!" She cursed when her head collided with the durasteel ceiling.
 "Are you alright?" His voice startled her, making her gasp and turn to him.
"Y-yeah, Sorry, Sir. Low ceilings..." She was shocked by his sudden concern, but what happened next made her want to scream as if she'd just seen a ghost.
 Kylo grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap; Her back faced him as she straddled his right thigh. Blush crept up her neck and face; she turned her head to look at him. Unsure of what to do.
"Does this help?" He asked,
"What?"
"Does this help? With how you were crouched, I could assume that was uncomfortable, making it difficult for you to focus." He spoke calmly as if what he'd just done hadn't almost caused her to have a heart attack.
 "O-Oh...Uh." She looked at the computer, the angle was better and would relieve stress from her ankles, but the warmth from Kylo's thigh made her believe crouching might be the safer option...
Y/n wasn't the most active woman in the world; she preferred to focus on her work over fulfilling any personal pleasures, Minus her Starship hobby. But this sudden contact with someone made her realize how touch-starved she was.
"Yes...It does help. Thank you, Sir." Kylo nodded, and she continued her work; in truth, being beside him earlier was nerve-wracking, but now sitting in his lap? Oh...It was worse. It was distracting and made it even more difficult to focus, especially when he'd move his foot, flexing his thigh. Or when he'd roll his shoulders, brushing his chest against her back, causing goosebumps on her exposed forearms. The proximity was becoming too much; she couldn't concentrate.
 Y/n sighed and shut off the flight computer, running a hand through her hair.
"What's the matter?"
Y/n looked over her shoulder, shrugging. Could she tell him that he was causing her to feel slightly turned on? No! Of course not! He's her boss...Technically. So she went with the half-truth, avoiding the embarrassing stuff.
"I've done this test sixteen times now; It's much more than I thought it would be. I can barely remember any of the small details; I'm practically guessing half of it." She sighed again, her shoulders slumped as she spoke, "I give up; I'm sorry, Sir." She began to stand up, but Kylo wrapped his arms tightly around her front and pulled her flush against him. They were so close she could hear his breathing, undistorted. It was calm.
 "You aren't allowed to give up, Capitan. You're here to prove that you are exactly as everyone says you are. You're constantly being praised for your piloting and engineering skills. You're apparently so good at what you do that the Supreme Leader permitted you to train a squadron of pilots from childhood, these children are orphans, and you're training them to be loyal to the first order by acting like a mother. Which is proving to work better than Hux's brainwashing method. It infuriates him; it's...very amusing for me."
He paused, his grip on her loosened slightly. Y/n was shivering; she wasn't cold, though...How could she be? Kylo radiated heat like a fire. It was from a combination of things, Fear, curiosity, surprise, and arousal. To name a few. He must have noticed this, she assumed, since his grip tightened and pulled her impossibly closer. "One little ship shouldn't be all that difficult for you." She sighed, nodding her head.
"I know.."
"Then why is it?"
She shrugged. "It's stressful; what you've asked me to do is...it's foreign to me. And you...Sir," She bit her lip to stop herself from digging herself a deeper grave. But he was persistent.
"Go on?"
 She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I-...I am afraid of you. Sir."
 "As you should be. But you aren't right now, are you?"
 She shook her head, "No, Sir."
 "Then what are you afraid of?"
"Honestly? Even though I am afraid of you most days, I have a lot of respect for you, and now that I have this assignment, I'm afraid of disappointing you and not meeting your expectations."
Kylo nodded, "I wouldn't have approved your assignment if I wasn't confident in your abilities. Unless...They're all lies, and you've somehow managed to fool everyone and are secretly a rebel spy?"
Y/n gasped, turning her head to gaze into the dark visor of his helmet. "I am NOT like my mother. I would never betray the First Order."
Kylo chuckled, "Good to know where your loyalties lie." Y/n could feel the vibrations of his distorted chuckle; she realized now that he was teasing her,
"Is this amusing to you?" She asked, turning her head to look out the windshield, crossing her arms over her chest, accentuation her breasts.
 Kylo inhaled sharply, covering it up by teasing her once again. "Yes, very much so. You're something else, Captain Seinar"
She huffed and absentmindedly rested her head against his shoulder. "I could say the same for you?"
"Oh? How so?"
"Well...for one. You haven't killed me yet like I've expected you to...Multiple times-" "I have no reason to." "But I've sassed you, talked back to you, disobeyed your orders. I was late, and you destroyed a hangar terminal. You have literally killed for less."
It was his turn to shrug. "...I didn't destroy the terminal because you were late. I apologize if I gave you that impression. Hux had informed me that they lost the location of the scavenger girl. You just happened to show up, and I needed an excuse." Y/n put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing. "Is this amusing for you?" His tone sounded playful as he mirrored her words from moments before.
She shook her head, but her expression betrayed her, unable to contain her smile.
 He chuckled. "To be honest, you are a valuable asset to the First Order. You've managed to make yourself indispensable. It'd be a waste to kill you."
"O-oh..."
"So, what else then?"
"Well...For instance," She lifted her hands to accentuate her point. "It's very out of character for you, sir."
 "Maybe for you and everyone else, it is."
 "What? Are you saying you're actually kind and considerate?"
 Kylo scoffed. "Not usually. But somehow, you've managed to bring out that side of me-" As he was about to finish his sentence, Y/n's watch beeped, indicating that the hour had finished. "You did well; I'll give you an extra hour tomorrow." Kylo let go and helped her stand. He lifted his hand above her head before she could bump against it again. "Thank you, sir."
When she returned to the lounge, the only one there was Miya; when she saw Y/n, she stood up and rushed over to her.
"Where the hell have you been?" She scolded.
 "Miya-"
"You missed lunch and dinner, and you're back late! We were worried Sick! "
"A lot happened. Can I explain in the morning? I'm exhausted."
 Miya signed, "Yeah, fine. But I want a full explanation."
"Yes, Ma'am," Y/n Yawned and trudged back to her room. She signed, "So many questions; why does he make everything so difficult." slowly, she peeled off her work clothes as her stomach grumbled. "Shit- I'm starving." She changed into something comfortable and then went out to the lounge.
 As she was scrounging around for a snack, a heavy knock echoed through the room; y/n gasped at the sound and then quickly opened the door to find a trooper standing there holding a black cafeteria plate with a matching lid.
"Captain Seinar?"
"Yes?"
"This is for you."
"Uh? Are you sure? Because I canceled my meal delivery."
 "Yes, Ma'am. But I was ordered to bring it to you."
"By who?"
"Kylo Ren, Ma'am,"
Y/n scoffed. Really?  "ah, alright. Thank you." She took the food back to her room and sat it on her desk. She crossed her arms and stored at it.
"Why in the world would he have someone bring me food? Is he sorry he made me skip dinner? This man, I swear. one minute he wants to slice me In half, and the next he's acting as though he's my friend or something" She shrugged and sat down at the desk. When she opened it, there was a note written on real paper; this surprised her because It was rare to see actual paper since everything has become mostly digital. It read,
You did well tonight. Meet me in the hangar right after dinner tomorrow. You'll do your two hours then. Enjoy this; You deserve it.
Y/n stared at the note in awe, "This man is not who people say he is. Goodness." Cautiously she began to eat the meal.
The next morning went suspiciously well. Y/n woke up before her alarm, made it to breakfast, and taught classes. It wasn't until after lunch that things started to go downhill. She had gone to her office to do paperwork; the office was the equivalent of a large closet.
 A knock on her office door startled her from the report she had been writing.
 "Come in."
The door slid open to reveal Kylo Ren. She stood up quickly, "O-Oh, Hello, Sir. How can I help you?"
"I need your help with a ship."
"Your silencer?"
 He shook his head slightly. "My command shuttle. Come, I'll explain more on the way."
She nodded and followed him out of the room. He explained what was wrong with the ship, and he took her to the hangar.
 Y/n placed her hands on her hips as she stared at the large ship.
"Huh..."
"What is it?"
"Oh- Uh. Sorry. I just assumed it'd be in worse shape. You have a reputation for destroying things when stuff is inconvenient to you."
"I chose to find you first."
"Ah."
Kesta came down from the ship when she saw Y/n; her eyes lit up.
"Oh, Good. You're here!"
 Y/n offered her a soft smile. "Mind if I take a look?"
"Of course, Though. We've practically torn the cockpit apart trying to figure out what's wrong with the damn thing. So watch your step."
"Thank you. I will." 
 Kesta was not kidding. There were wires hanging down from the ceiling. The control cover was taken off the dock and sat to the side. Wires were littered all over the floor as well. "Goodness..." She trudged her way through the mess and went over to the dock where the flight computer resided.
Y/n wasn't unfamiliar with the Upsilon class command shuttle. It had just been released the year she joined the first order, and when she did her engineer training, one of her tests was to program it. Her programming came in second to a punk who decided he'd steal her idea, which in turn made it look like she stole his.
 So in truth, this was her creation, but no one knew. She nodded to herself, then exited the ship,
"Well?" Kesta asked, walking up to Y/n.
"I think It's the wing retraction gear. When it starts up, does it make a high-pitched screeching?"
Kesta nodded.
"Then...Yeah, somethings wrong with the wing retraction."
"Would you mind taking a look at it?" The older woman asked; y/n internally groaned. This could take hours.
"Yes, Ma'am. I'll need some tools, though."
Two hours of screwing and unscrewing bolts, rewiring the wing retractor, and then having to do it again because she forgot that it needed to be wired to a different input. Kylo had left as soon as she got her tools, and Kesta left after that.
Tiredly y/n sat at the bottom of the ramp on the ship; she wiped her forehead as she sighed. A shadow eclipsed her, and she looked up to find Kylo looming over her. Quickly she stood up, almost stumbling forward into him. Catching her balance, she spoke,
 "I-I wasn't slacking, Sir."
 The new familiar crackle sounded softly between the two. "No. I didn't think you were."
 "Ah. Well- Is there anything I can help you with?"
He shook his head slightly. "Is it fixed?"
 Y/n looked over her shoulder and nodded. "Yes, Sir."
 "Good. You may go."
She looked at him confused but then shook her head. "Yes, Sir."
Before she could walk passed him, he grabbed her arm, Wo- Deja Vu. "Do not worry about Hux's order. Continue the way you have been."
 She looked into the dark visor with an uncertain expression. "Are you saying that just because it would only piss him off more?"
 "Yes. But also because I meant what I said. It works." She looked away and nodded; before He let go of her arm,
He said, "Go to the infirmary."
 "For what?" She asked; he tilted his down, and she followed his gaze. Her dark grey shirt was stained a deep red on her side. "Oh- Wow. I didn't even feel that."
"Obviously."
She glared at him. "Thank you for noticing. I'll go now." He nodded and let her go.
"Are you kidding me?" A short, blonde-haired woman in a white doctor's coat walked up to Y/n as she entered the infirmary. "I swear, You're here every week, Y/n. What'd you do this time?"
"Hi, Sara...I was fixing Kylo Ren's command shuttle and must have cut myself. Not sure how it happened."
Sara rolled her eyes. "Must have is an understatement." She said as she slightly lifted up the hem of Y/n's shirt. "Come on. I'll fix you up."
"Thank you-"
"You'll be paying me."
Y/n laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, don't worry."
Sara lead Y/n to a bed and closed the curtain. "Are you doing alright?"
 "What do you mean?"
 "I mean, You're the center of everyone's gossip recently."
"Because of my new assignment?" Sara nodded as she disinfected the small but deep gash in Y/n's side; Y/n gritted her teeth, "Y-yeah. It's...complicated. At least I'm not dead yet." She joked, earning a glare from Sara. "Sorry- It's nothing though. Just lots and lots of studying." The doctor hummed as she began to stitch up the wound, causing Y/n to grasp the firm mattress.
"...You must not know then."
"K-know what?"
 "There's a rumor growing around that you're screwing him. Especially since last night."
 "...last night?"
"Yeah, One of the engineers told me he saw the two of you inside his ship." Y/n groaned. "Is it true?"
"No, of course, it's not Sara. He found out I snuck onto his ship while he was gone and made me do a pre-test as punishment. He had to be there to observe my progress."
"But did you need to be sitting in his lap?"
"How much did this engineer see!?" Y/n exclaimed, wailing her arms around; Sara glared at her. "Sorry.."
"He saw enough to spread some nasty rumors." Y/n sighed and began to explain everything to Sara from the beginning, and by the time she was done, Sara had finished stitching and bandaging her side.
"Are you sure you can handle this?"
"I...I'm not sure. Tomorrow is test day, and I don't think I'm going to succeed; I'm too far in to back out now. This might be the last time we see each other."
 "I want to say don't be so dramatic, Y/n...But who knows what he'll do to you if you fail."
 Y/n scratched her head. "Yeah... I know."
"How are your nightmares?"
 "Oh-...Good." Sara knew she was lying but didn't persist. They knew each other well enough.
"Okay, You're all set." The women stood and exited the area; a few of the nurses looked at Y/n harshly. She avoided their gazes, and Sara walked her to the door. "Just be careful. Rumors like these...They grow legs."
"I know. Thank you. I'll send you the money tonight."
It seemed as though everyone's eyes were now on her as she made her way through the long tiring halls. Checking the time, she decided she could change out of her stained shirt and then go teach her flight lesson.
Walking into the lounge, she bumped into Callisto,
"Hey! Where have you been?"
"I'll tell you later, Cal. I gotta change and go to my next class."
 "Wait- No. Hang on. Is that blood?"
"yeah, It's nothing. I'll be fine."
"Did he do that to you?"
"Who?"
 "Kylo Ren."
"What? No. I cut myself while fixing a ship."
Callisto sighed. "I swear-"
"Cal. He didn't do anything. Now I have to go."
"Fine. But you're coming to dinner, right?"
She didn't give him an answer as she went to her room.
"Captain!" Dante's voice alerted the woman as she wrote down a report on her data pad.
"Yes, Dante?"
 "General Hux wants to see you. He said for you to go to his office in the command center."
"Now?" Dante nodded. "Okay."
Quickly she gathered her small group and told them they could go back to their dorms and that the training was canceled.
 Nervous didn't even begin to cover what she was feeling the moment she stepped through the command center's doors.
Cautiously she knocked on Hux's door.
"Come in."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into his office.
 "You asked for me, Sir?"
"Yes. Take a seat." She nodded and sat down in a chair across from his desk. "Is your assignment going well?" He asked as he linked his hands together on his desk and leaned forward.
"Yes, Sir." She kept her expressions blank.
"I was informed that you snuck onto the Silencer after hours. Is this true?"
 Shit. She nodded, "Yes, Sir."
"Why?"
"Because I needed more information."
 "I was also told that you stole a copy of the ship's programming. Is this true?"
 "Y-Yes...Sir."
Hux hummed and sat back in his seat. "I respect you and your reputation Captain. But this is something I can not allow to pass. You will be completely suspended for five weeks, Along with your personal project."
 "Which one, Sir?"
"Your squadron." he paused as he glared harshly, making her want to crawl away and hide. "If you choose to do such things again, I will have you fired and your squadron terminated."
 "But you can't-"
"You're dismissed." biting her tongue, she stood and left.  
                                                                         When she exited the control center,  she got lost in her thoughts.
How could he have known? Did Kylo tell him? Maybe Cal's right. He is just toying with me.
She was stopped in her tracks by a firm hand grasping her shoulder; she turned to see one of the Knights of Ren. Cardo, she believed.
"Captain Seinar."
 "Y-yes, sir?" She turned to face him as he let her go.
"Kylo Ren has ordered me to find you and bring you to him."
 "O-Oh. Alright."
 Anger slowly started to boil in her bones as they made their way to where every Kylo was.   
The room they arrived in seemed like a recreation room. She noticed how the other five knights were there and turned to her as she entered. Cardo continued to walk through the room to another in the back; Y/n kept her head down as she followed him.
Kylo Ren stood in Infront of a large Transparasteel window that looked out into the vast expanse of space.
"Here she is."
 Kylo nodded and waved him off. Cardo left the room, closing the door behind him.
 Y/n stared daggers into the back of his helmet, her fists clenched tight by her side.
 "Is something the matter?" His voice bounced off the walls.
"All that shit you told me yesterday was just a fucking lie. Wasn't it? You've been trying to ruin my life from the moment I requested to look at your damned ship."
"I do not know what you mean." He turned around to face her.
"Bullshit! You have changed my schedule twice already, stressed me out beyond compare, and told Hux that I took a copy of the ship's programming plus that I snuck on board after hours!" Her strides were quick as she made her way over to him, and her chest was heaving. She stared up at him, face red with anger.
 "I did no such thing."
 "Liar! He's suspended me for over a month and my squadron as well. He told me if I slip up again, he'll fire me and that he'd terminate my squadron. You can't fucking handle someone being better than you at something, can you!? You're getting exactly what you wanted!" She yelled colorfully.
 Kylo took a step in, their chests brushing against each other. His voice was low as he spoke,
"Watch it."
 She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "what're you gonna do? Kill me? Please, that'd be a mercy."
He chuckled darkly. "That mouth of yours...It could get you in some serious trouble." He grabbed her arm and slammed her against the nearest wall, caging her in. Her anger was washed away in an instant, and fear now occupied her mind.
"Come now, where's all that fire?" She took in a shaky breath, "What's wrong? Are you scared I may actually kill you?" She looked away, but he grabbed her chin, holding her in place. "I meant every word I said to you. I would never jeopardize your position; I know how hard you've worked for it."
 "But-"
"I did not tell Hux what you did. That was between us, and It does not involve him." He sighed as he noticed the fearful look in her eyes. He let go of her chin; she seemed to relax some, but her mind continued to rush. "He has no proper authority to fire you or terminate your squadron, and if he tries, I will intervene."
"Why?" Her voice was soft and quiet.
"Because, as I've said, you're a valuable asset to the First Order. It'd be foolish to do away with you."
She nodded, biting her lip. "I'm sorry for practically screaming at you. It wasn't fair of me to assume you did those things without asking you."
"You're very good at that."
 "At what? Assuming things?"
 "No- Owning up to your mistakes."
 Y/n looked down at her feet, but Kylo lifted her chin with his thumb. "This brings up a problem, though."
 "...And that is? Sir."
 "We possibly have a snitch." He let her go and pulled away, turning to the window.
 Quickly she controlled her breathing and stood beside him.
"Did you tell anyone?"
 Y/n had to think for a moment; she gasped when a name flashed through her mind.
 Callisto.
 "I-...Yes. My best friend. Special Forces Pilot Timothy Callisto, but he goes by Cal." She turned her head to look at Kylo, and he did the same. Her eyes were filled with worry and desperation. "He wouldn't..."
"It's a possibility."
"But-...We've been friends since the academy. He wouldn't betray me."
 "You put too much faith into people."
She scoffed. "How would you know."
 "I just do."
 They stood there quietly for a while.
"What did you want me for, sir?"
He let her question linger as he turned away from the window and took a seat at the table that sat to the side of the room. "Join me." He said, motioning to the seat in Infront of him. Sitting down, she fiddled with her hands, suddenly anxious.
"I would like for you to join my division."
"Like the knights?"
He shook his head. "No. Like as my second in command, as in...Being my wingman and Captain."
She looked at him in disbelief. "I-...sorry. What?" she tilted her head slightly. "Why?" she asked.
"Because someone with your skills deserves to work with people of your same standard."
"Are you saying that my friends in the special forces aren't of my standard" Her tone had an edge to it as she spoke.
 "That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then."
"The special forces are the best of the best when it comes to the first order. But you, you're something-" His words are interrupted by the door opening.
 "Apologies, Sir. But you're being summoned to the supremacy." One of the knights spoke. Kylo turned his head to the knight and then back to Y/n.
"Thank you, Ap'lek." The knight: Ap'lek. Nodded and closed the door.
 Kylo stood, offering his hand to her. "Think about my offer." His voice sounded soft behind the mask, but she thought she had just imagined it; sighing, she took his hand and stood.
"Thank you, Sir. Do you know if you'll be back in time?"
Kylo hummed, looking down at her hand that was still in his own. "I am...unsure. If I am not. I will have Ap'lek accompany you."
Y/n froze, and her hand subconsciously gripped his. She stared into the visor, anxiety etched in her features.
"Is something wrong?"
She gulped and shook her head. When she went to pull her hand away, he grabbed it tightly,
"Do not lie to me." His commanding tone made her look away,
 "...I'd prefer not to do it at all than have to do it without you." her confession surprised them both. "I-I mean the ship, of course; I...I'm just used to you now. It'd be awkward with anyone else." She explained.
 A static crackle echoed off the walls. He was laughing at her. She met where she assumed his eyes were and rolled her own, a smirk on her lips.
"You should go. Don't want to make the supreme leader angry."
 "How would you know it's the supreme leader?" He asked teasingly,
 "Why else would you go to the big man's ship?" Another crackle and a nod from Kylo.
"You are right, though. I should. I will try to be back before our scheduled time, but if I'm not. Don't worry too much. Ap'lek is a man of few words, and he's the...Nicest. I suppose, but he'd deny it. He's just polite." Y/n nodded,
"I understand. Thank you, Sir. Good luck." She offered him a smile, and he gently squeezed her hand before letting go and leaving the room.
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princeescaluswords · 1 year
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People like to say fandom racism (and misogyny, homophobia, what have you) is because of a few bad apples. They forgot the rest of the phrase: a few bad apples spoil the bunch. If you don't push back against the rot, it spreads.
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You're absolutely correct.
I read this post-season 2 story, and in it, Stiles was pulling away from Scott and towards the Hale Pack because of Gerard's kidnapping and torture. This Stiles didn't blame Scott for his torture -- as some Scott-antis are wont to make their version of Stiles do -- but this Stiles said that it had created a distance between them, since Scott couldn't understand Stiles's situation because Scott had never been tortured.
We all know this isn't true. Depending on your definitions of torture, there's four separate instances of Scott being tortured: Heart Monitor (1x06), Co-Captain (1x10), Abomination (2x04), and Raving (2x08). All of these happened before Stiles got introduced to the concept. But it is emblematic of the empathy gap in the Sterek/Teen Wolf fandom.
I need to point out three things:
This individual, once I looked deeper, implied that they based their work on fandom content. They didn't come out and say it, but it seems that they took their cues from the fandom, not the show itself. This is important for your thesis, as a "few bad apples" are all that was required for this participant to ignore major aspects of the characters of which they claimed to be a fan.
This story was not written in 2023. It was written in 2013. So this isn't a function of fandom evolution or the distorting nature of the passage of time. This fandom, and especially the Sterek ship, seems to have been created from the get-go with elements of racism and misogyny built in. These are features, not bugs. Relationships they have determined might distract the focus from what parts of the fandom desired must be delegitimized or at last sidelined, whether it is Scott and Stiles's friendship, Scott and Derek's tumultuous relationship, or Scott and Allison's romance.
I wrote a very brief but very sharp comment to the author. I know this, for some reason, is seen as terrible behavior, but I felt like sweeping back the sea. The bilious directives of "don't like, don't read," "fiction =/= reality," and "authors are just harmless little bunnies trying their best" do very little to promote people writing but they do great work in protecting people who spew racism, misogyny, and decadence from any pushback.
There's a reason that even today with the show available in multiple formats, parts of the fandom can aver in their created content with 100% confidence that Scott ditched Stiles for Allison. There's a reason that the fandom, five years after the show ended, still insist on acting as if only the first three seasons matter, because that's when they could still pretend a white male character was the true protagonist. There's a reason that the first season is repeatedly described as "light-hearted and happy" when Scott gets physically or mentally violated in ten out of twelve episodes.
It's not a few bad apples. It's a bad orchard. And there will be more bad orchards until someone manages to convince the majority that treating characters of color and women like garbage in fandom they spend hours and hours and hours on is just as unfair as being racist and sexist to random strangers they see on the street.
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