#one good thing about how bad this game is: it's easy to just separate it from the rest of the games | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

muqingslover · 3 months ago

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[ This is different than what I usually post but I had to get this out of my system. The new DMC show brought back so many memories and idc what the haters say it's PEAK.

Anyway, to the DMC lovers out there, please accept this humble offering ]

Being in a relationship with Dante. | some NSFW included.

⊹— He may be the best demon hunter but in a relationship? He's the BIGGEST loser. Dante is always throwing some lame pick-up line your way and believe me when I say he will not give up until one sticks. (Spoiler warning: The fact that it actually works only makes him want to do it again)

—⊹ Dating Dante is not for the faint hearted. You have to be ready for all kinds of beyond ridiculous situations and have a godly amount of adaptability.

⊹— He will ALWAYS answer the phone for you. Literally. It doesn't matter what he's doing or where he is he will pick up the second he sees your name on the screen.

"Babe? Oh yeah! I'm totally still up for dinner! By the way, can you add those pieces of chocolate again to— *Approaching yelling in the background* Just a sec! *Crashing sounds and gunshots* Whew, okay, anyway like I was saying—"

—⊹ Oh yeah, he loooooves using pet names and silly nicknames. His personal favorites are "Babe" and "My little luck charm".

⊹— He likes to give you "traditional" dating gifts because that's what he always saw others do so when he shows up with a big ass teddy bear and a box of chocolates (which by the way he definitely ate some before giving it to you) please tell him you love it.

—⊹ Bro is so competitive. Dante is NOT letting you win in card games or any other board games because he wants to show off his skills to you. Though, if you get genuinely upset he would feel bad and invite you to play video games with him because he fails miserably at them every time.

⊹— His hands grab your ass every time you hug him. Not even in a sexual way he just can't help it and he never fails to throw a "nice ass" right after.

—⊹ Missing jewelry, hat or belt from your closet? He's the culprit. This guy will wear anything as long as he believes he looks good in it. I pray for you if you guys are a similar size because then you will have full clothing pieces missing.

⊹— He is THE hype man. Dante kisses the ground you walk on and he supports your rights and rights (because you could never do any wrong ;)).

—⊹ Dante's favorite thing is to show you off in every opportunity he gets. And if he doesn't have the opportunity then he'll just do it anyway. He is constantly yapping about how incredibly hot his partner is, how good your cooking is, how cute you look when you're focused and the way you smell so damn good all the time like, man! You're a freaking gift from the gods! (someone save poor Lady she can't bear to listen to him any more)

⊹— Please also hype him back in return! He has the worst praise kink case I've ever seen. Each time he's praised he just doesn't know what to do with himself and despite the initial cocky attitude he is easy to overwhelm if you don't stop. The first time you praised him while patting his head or scratching his chin he got a hard-on and had to rush out with a poor excuse before you noticed it.

—⊹ There is nothing romantic about sharing a bed with him. It's an absolute nightmare. First of all, this guy is physically incapable of sleeping with his clothes on. He just can't do it. Dante used to sleep butt ass naked but then you convinced him to at least wear boxers. Next on the list of problems is the snoring— Like, it's so loud you thought there was a truck engine next to you instead of your boyfriend. Not to mention the fact he takes up all space on the bed and moves around SO MUCH while he's asleep.

Please invest in separate beds before you kill him.

⊹— Absolutely hates morning. Getting him out of bed is the hardest thing to do and that's saying a lot with the life you two lead. He will keep you trapped in bed with him by wrapping his strong arms around your waist only to when you get up he sloooowly slides off the mattress and onto floor like a worm hanging to you.

—⊹ Surprisingly, or not, very insecure. This man is not controlling in any way though, he is just very worried that he won't be able to protect you if something was to happen or that you will realize you made a mistake by being with him.

⊹— His favorite thing is to make you smile. I know a lot of people paint him as stupid but I genuinely think he just acts silly as a defense mechanism. It's a mask. With you, though? He will purposely act like a dork because he knows it makes you smile.

—⊹ To add to that, Dante does everything he can to keep your spirits up; Someone hurt your feelings? No need to fret, he’s already planning their downfall. Feeling under the weather? tickle monster time! Migraine? He is closing the curtains and cuddling you until it gets better!

⊹— The filter between his brain and mouth is naturally bad but with you, who he is truly comfortable with, it's just INEXISTENT. This may range from random, useless bullshit to out of pocket comments that should definitely not be said out loud.

—⊹ Physical contact is his thing. I mean, he NEEDS it and can be very high maintenance about it. Having his hands on you is not enough for Dante he has to be as close as physically possible and you need to be giving him some kind of attention in return.

⊹— Hugging you from behind when you're cooking, snuggling while on the couch together, keeping a firm arm hooked around your waist while outside, constantly nuzzling his nose on your hair, kissing your neck at every chance he gets, pulling you into his lap as if it's his second nature ECT.

—⊹ Did I mention he adores your hair? In particular long hair because then he can fidget with it by twirling it around his finger or by being a dork and putting it between his lips and nose to make a mustache.

⊹— Your lips are like a drug to him. He will be saying "okay, okay I REALLY gotta bail now" and then stare at you for a solid two seconds then steal another kiss and another and another....oops, he's 30 minutes late already.

—⊹ Dante is a biter. God help you when you give him cuteness aggression (which is basically always) because he will chew on you like candy. Your skin is often red from teeth marks and he doesn't feel sorry about it at all.

⊹— Cannot cook to save his life but absolutely loves your food. Especially if you're good at baking! Man's scarfing down those sweet treats like it's his last meal on earth.

—⊹ He sings while he's showering and holds the bottle of shampoo to you like a microphone so you'll join him. Oh and yes, he is VERY tone-deaf.

⊹— No matter how many times he sees you naked he never gets tired of that blessed sight. He flirts with you like it's the first time he's seeing you and those naughty eyes speak for themselves.

—⊹ He has a high libido, especially in the beginning of the relationship where he's even more excitable than usual. Sex can be very clumsy and messy with him, but that's just what makes it so him.

⊹— If you're a breasty lady, he is reaaaaaally into you using your boobs to get him off. Dante also enjoys having your lips around his cock more than words could describe and a quickie in dark, tight spaces is part of the package with him.

—⊹ Bondage is a guilty pleasure of his. Dante prefers to be the one restrained and left at your mercy instead of the other way around because it's just very hot to him when you take control. You're also the only one he would trust to be this vulnerable with.

⊹— This guy is always late for EVERYTHING, but he shows up without a fail in the end. No matter how battered or tired he might be, not even if he was run over by a truck, he will definitely be there.

#˖ᯓ⊹⊹Dove's extracurricular #this was supposed to be short little thing #dmc #dmc5 #devil may cry netflix #devil may cry #devil may cry dante #dante sparda x reader #dante x reader #dante sparda #dmc dante #dante devil may cry #devil may cry x reader

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izzih22 · 1 month ago

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Okay so boom, would you do a pazzi fic where they get outed on live by like ice and KK and the end is all cute and fluffy?

Caught in 4K

Note: don’t know how I feel about this one it’s short and kinda crap but enjoy also ice is always at the scene of the crime fr😂

They had always been good at hiding it.

Not because they were ashamed. Not even because they didn’t want people to know. But because what Paige and Azzi had was theirs — quiet and steady, protected like something sacred. Just lingering looks, shared hoodies, and the kind of closeness that didn’t need to be explained to anyone who mattered.

The team knew.

Family knew.

They’d been careful. Subtle. Strategic.

Right up until Ice accidentally left Instagram Live running for thirty more seconds than she should’ve.

⸻

It was just supposed to be a fun post-practice moment — Ice and KK dancing around in the tunnel, filming the chaos. Laughing. Hyping up Aubrey. A quick pan to the bench, then end the stream.

Easy.

Except… Ice didn’t end the stream.

Not fast enough, anyway.

Because when the camera drifted a little too far left… it caught them.

Paige, sitting at the end of the bench, legs spread, completely relaxed — Azzi tucked into her side, head on her chest, Paige’s arms wrapped lazily around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even a kiss.

But the camera lingered.

Just for a second too long.

Azzi’s hand resting lightly on Paige’s thigh. Paige looking down at her with this quiet smile, one hand drawing lazy circles on her hip.

And then Ice, realizing — ��Oh sh—” click.

Live: ended.

Damage: done.

⸻

It didn’t take long for the clips to hit Twitter.

Fans went feral.

“I KNEW IT. I KNEW IT.”

“Paige Bueckers has never looked at another human being like that.”

“Azzi LITERALLY in her lap. This isn’t speculation. This is science.”

“Okay but the thigh touch???”

Fan cams, slow-mo breakdowns, and grainy zoom-ins exploded across TikTok. People were analyzing lip movements and blinking patterns. Some even brought out PowerPoint presentations.

Still, the media stayed quiet — respectful. Paige and Azzi had always kept their personal lives separate. There was nothing “official” to report anyway.

So the fans just speculated.

Loudly.

Endlessly.

⸻

Meanwhile, in the locker room:

Ice looked like she was about to cry. “I swear it was an accident.”

“You had one job,” Jana teased.

KK held up her phone, grinning. “Y’all are trending again. Hashtag #PaZZi4L.”

Azzi just shook her head, amused, cheeks pink but not upset.

Paige stretched out on the bench, completely unbothered. “Let them talk.”

“Oh, they are,” KK said. “There’s a thread comparing your bench cuddle to footage of penguins mating for life.”

Azzi snorted. “Please send me that.”

Paige just smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos more than she should.

Jana nudged her. “You gonna deny it if anyone asks?”

Paige gave a shrug that was far too casual. “Deny what? I hug all my friends like that.”

KK nearly fell over laughing.

⸻

That Night

The buzz of the day faded the second Paige closed the door to her apartment.

Azzi was already on the couch in one of Paige’s oversized UConn hoodies, legs tucked under her. The lights were low, and some old basketball game played quietly in the background — just noise, really.

Paige dropped her bag and joined her without a word, settling beside her and pulling Azzi into her lap like she had on the bench.

Azzi curled into her without hesitation, head on Paige’s shoulder, hand slipping under the hem of her hoodie to rest against her stomach. Familiar. Safe.

“Ice still spiraling?” she mumbled sleepily.

“KK’s convincing her to do an apology mukbang,” Paige replied, laughing softly. “But yeah. She feels bad.”

Azzi smiled. “It wasn’t even that bad. It’s kind of cute watching everyone try to ‘solve’ us like a mystery.”

“We are so not mysterious.”

“We are to the internet.”

Paige leaned her head back, letting her fingers trace the shape of Azzi’s spine under the fabric. “You wanna say something? Like… officially?”

Azzi was quiet for a beat. Then she shook her head.

“No,” she said, gentle but sure. “I like this. I like people guessing. I like that the only ones who really know… are the ones who matter.”

Paige nodded slowly. “Me too.”

A pause.

Then, grinning: “But I am gonna post a blurry picture of your hand and see how fast TikTok loses its mind.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, giggling as she tucked herself deeper into Paige’s arms. “You’re the worst.”

“But im your worst.”

Azzi kissed the underside of her jaw, voice soft. “Yeah. You are.”

Outside, the world could speculate all it wanted.

But inside this little apartment, in the quiet safety of arms and hoodie sleeves and soft laughter — there was nothing left to guess.

#paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #paige x azzi #paige and azzi #pazzi

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mogwaipoet · 4 months ago

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For decades, game devs have aspired to make their games more addictive, first as an explicit primary goal from when they were making arcade games

and later it got dragged along with all the other arcade tropes like lives and high scores when the culture moved on to PC and console games.

When I was growing up I constantly heard people say a game was "addictive" as a compliment, and the idea got conflated with "fun" and other things it's "good" for a game to "be." I think one reason we didn't see much pushback was that games just weren't that addictive yet. Nowadays player psychology is a literal science, and games are often extremely addictive, and many if not most players are just fine with this, even though it's now pretty clear that "addictive" and "fun" are axes that can be perceived, measured, and invested into fully separately.

There is absolutely a moral hazard in using addictive dark patterns in game design. It's easy to justify gacha mechanics because that particular trope goes all the way back to e.g. randomized loot drops in Final Fantasy, where it wasn't that bad because it was only kind of addictive. And short of having a moonshot hit, stuffing your game with these patterns is basically the only way make a living in the modern game ecosystem. When I last did the publisher rounds trying to pitch a game, they only wanted to hear about games that players would play forever. Roguelikes, PVP, etc. If it was a game you could finish once and be done with forever, they weren't interested.

I think the fun/addictive thing parallels how games have historically been both art and business. Like, Pac-Man is someone's personal expression of interesting ideas in an exciting new medium, and it's an attempt to expand the commercial audience and make a bunch of money. We're seeing the bifurcation of those two things. Nowadays the real moneymakers are games that lean hard into the addictive loops and gacha mechanics.

Then there are the pure art games made on no budget that make no money -- and remember, I'm using "art" really broadly here, meaning if someone makes a by-the-numbers run and gun because they grew up playing Contra, that counts. I expect that particular fire hose to spew full force at least until Gen X dies. But The hybrid of art and business, e.g. where the vast majority of AAA used to live, is disappearing.

I don't know what to do about any of this other than to hide in the Pico-8 community. It's cozy in here.

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wlw-imagines · 2 months ago

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Voicemail - Emily Prentiss x Reader (Criminal Minds)

a/n: we keep going!!!!! this is a personal victory for me - i don't think i have ever published this many fics ever

cw: explosion! that is it

summary: You and Emily have been circling each other for years, partners in the field, friends outside of it, and something undefined in between. You’ve both felt it. Neither of you has dared to name it.

Then, a case goes sideways. You’re separated during a raid. Your phone dies. Emily can’t reach you, she realises some important things.

Later on, still panicked, she leaves you a voicemail.

Part of the May Prompts: Day Six, voicemail

It starts like all good things do... quietly.

A missed moment here, a glance held just a second too long. You and Emily have worked together for years. Long enough to read each other’s silences, to finish each other’s reports mid-sentence, to predict each other’s next move in the field without saying a word.

There’s a rhythm to it, it's unspoken, easy. Banter in the car that softens into something warm. Shared takeout in hotel rooms when sleep feels too far away. Conversations in the quiet hum after cases, where the words don’t matter as much as the way she listens.

You notice the little things. The way she always checks your six before her own. How she carries an extra protein bar in her vest because you always forget to eat. The way her hand hovers at your back when the room gets too loud, like she can tell when your skin starts to itch with adrenaline.

It would be so easy to fall into her.

Sometimes, you think maybe you already have. Sometimes, you catch her watching you the same way.

But nothing happens. No lines crossed and no boundaries broken.

Garcia teases you about it constantly. She calls you 'Prentiss-adjacent', which she says is a lifestyle choice. JJ doesn’t say much, but she gives you this look whenever you and Emily brush hands and pretend it didn’t happen. The look that says you know she’s in love with you, right? The look that makes your stomach knot and you always make a choice to ignore.

You tell yourself it’s complicated.

That the team is family. That crossing that line would change everything.

And Emily… Emily never pushes.

Not even when she catches you watching her across the table during debrief. Not when you’re too tired to pretend you’re unaffected and lean against her shoulder on the flight home. Not even when you fall asleep there and she lets you stay.

She’s careful. Respectful.

You wonder sometimes if it’s fear that holds her back, or hope.

There’s a night in El Paso. You’re both up too late, the hotel air is dry and heavy. You’re splitting fries on the edge of your bed with a bad movie playing low in the background. She says something funny, it is dry, perfect, and it makes you laugh, too loud. She watches you. You feel it.

The moment stretches. Lingers.

You swear you could kiss her. She doesn’t look away and you think you will kiss her.

But then she blinks. Smiles. Looks down at the food between you like she didn’t just feel it too.

So you don’t move.

You just sit there. Almost touching. Almost saying it. Eventually, you tell yourself you’re playing the long game.

But some nights, alone in your own bed, you wonder if the game was actually over before you even got the chance to play.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It starts, as all things do in the BAU, with the first body.

Downtown D.C., 6:12 a.m. A parking garage tucked beneath a federal building. The car was rigged to detonate on ignition. One victim, a federal clerk, and a crater where her sedan used to be. The second comes four hours later. A brownstone in Columbia Heights. No warning, no call-in. Just an explosion that flattens two floors and takes a retired teacher with it.

By the time the Bureau pulls the BAU in, there’s already a weight pressing down on the team. It's heavy and suffocating. Bombings are always bad.

Random bombings are worse. There are often no demands. No manifesto. No sense of order. Just chaos in a city built on patterns.

Everyone feels it.

Garcia’s voice is tighter than usual in your ear, her normal routine dampened down. JJ hasn’t smiled once all morning. Hotch is clipped, short-tempered. Even Rossi’s jokes come sharp, brittle around the edges.

And Emily...

Emily keeps looking at you.

Not obviously. She’s too good for that. But it’s there, in the way she glances over during briefings, the way her hand lingers a second longer when she passes you files. In the field, she stands too close. Not protectively, no one on the team treats you like glass, but there’s something unmistakable in the way she watches your six today like it’s imperative. It's an instinct for her now, like breathing.

You don’t say anything. You never do.

It's late afternoon when you're canvassing with Reid, a routine sweep of the area around the latest blast. A witness reported a man pacing behind a hardware store with a heavy duffel bag an hour before detonation. It's probably nothing. Most things are. But you follow the lead anyway.

Reid splits off toward the front. You take the alley behind.

Your earpierce catches your attention, "Now be careful here," Emily's voice is low and guarded, a reminder for the both of you but mostly you. No one needs reminding but she has to say it, just in case, "You're looking for anything suspicious but that doesn't mean you push it."

"On it, Em." You promise, "Nothing yet." And Reid confirms similar news from his end too. "But it might be that we find a-"

And then it happens.

You feel it in your teeth before you hear it. That low, thrumming boom that knocks the breath from your lungs. It’s not right next to you but close enough. Close enough that the windows rattle, the sky flashes, and you’re thrown backward by the shockwave. Your ears ring. Your vision skews.

You hit the pavement hard. Brick scrapes your cheek. The scent of burning insulation fills your nose. Smoke rolls over you like fog, thick and chemical. You try to call it in, “This is-" A cough rips through you, "I’m-” There's a crackle in your voice, as the radio dips, "Em, I-" The radio dies in your ear.

Back at the mobile base, everything goes still. A blast, followed by your radio cutting out, silence. Emily doesn’t move at first. Doesn't even flinch as she hears your weak voice splutter out her name before being cut off. Her spine is straight. Her jaw locked.

“Was that—?” JJ starts, eyes wide.

Emily already knows.

“Where were they last? Her exact location?” she asks, voice low but sharp enough to cut.

Garcia scrambles, her fingers flying. CCTV feeds. Cell tower pings. Anything.

“They were in the alley behind Bloom Street,” she says, breathless.

Emily is already moving.

She doesn’t wait for orders. Doesn’t explain. She just goes.

She's hurtling out the doors, down the street, around the corners. Reid is hovering just round the third corner she whizzes past and she almost slams right into him. There is a quick mental check that he is okay, he is upright with no visible marks - not that she can see. Emily quickly brushes off the immediate guilt that she only had you on her mind, never Reid, but now she knows he is safe. There is no time to speak. She doesn’t speak until she sees you.

You're cradled against the back of an ambulance, EMTs checking your vitals. Your knuckles are scraped raw. There's blood dried along your temple, and your breathing comes shallow, but steady.

You’re alive.

She stops short.

You look up, eyes squinting through the remaining curling smoke and ache. You smile. “Guess I found something, huh?”

She doesn’t smile back. Not yet. She just walks over and crouches beside you. Her hand finds your arm, light and steady, like if she lets go, you might disappear.

You lean into her touch without thinking.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Later, back at the motel, the adrenaline fades and the quiet closes in. Everyone retreats to their rooms. Reid’s icing his wrist. Rossi pours two fingers of scotch. JJ calls Will.

Emily stares at her phone.

She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, fingers curled tight in the sheets. The lamp glows low beside her. You’re in the room next door. Safe. Breathing.

And yet her hands won’t stop shaking.

She doesn’t plan it.

She just pulls up your number. Hits call.

It rings. Once. Twice. Then cuts to voicemail.

And still, she doesn’t hang up.

You’re fine. You’re fine. Emily has to keep reminding herself.

You may be bruised and exhausted, but you're safe. You’re sleeping off the worst of it in the next room, unaware of how close it got, how close she got to losing you.

She should walk away. She should let you rest. She should wait for morning, when your eyes open and you meet her with that tired smile you always save for her.

Instead, her voice, when it comes, is quiet. Too soft for a woman who’s stared down death more times than she can count. It’s a whisper she doesn’t intend for anyone else to hear.

“I know you’re okay.” She speaks into the waiting voicemail.

She leans her head back against the wall. Exhales like she’s been holding her breath since the explosion.

“I know you’re just in the next room. Breathing. Healing. Probably dreaming about not getting blown up.”

She huffs a laugh. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“But earlier, for a few minutes, I thought... I thought I was going to lose you. And I realized... if I had, I wouldn’t have said it. Not once. Not when it mattered.”

She swallows. Her fingers tighten around the phone.

“So I’m saying it now. Even if it’s the wrong time. Even if you’re not listening. Even if you’ll never hear this. I know you never listen to your damn voicemail but... I don't know, maybe it's a coward's way out...”

A pause. Then, barely a breath:

“I love you.”

She closes her eyes. Lets it sit there in the air between them, even if you’ll never know.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” she continues, quieter now. “Longer than I should’ve. Longer than I’ve let myself admit. But it’s true. It’s always been true.”

Her fingers twitch toward the hang-up button. She doesn’t press it.

“I don’t expect anything. I just… needed you to know. Because if anything ever happened and I hadn’t said it…”

She trails off.

Then softly, “Goodnight.”

She ends the call before she can say more. Before she does something really reckles. If it were up to her, she would knock on your door or curl up in the chair outside it just to listen to you breathe. But she doesn't. She can't.

She deletes the log from her phone immediately. No trace, nothing to remind her of the potentially idiotic move she has just made. It will now remain a distant memory that she can choose to ignore. However, she must admit, she feels better for the words being out there in the world.

She feels emotionally spent, and now, after a confession, she can rest.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

You wake to sunlight pushing through the thin hotel curtains, pale and golden and warm against your face. Your body aches, deep and dull and everywhere, a patchwork of bruises and stiffness, the sharp memory of being too close to the blast echoing in your ribs.

But you’re alive.

You remember the scramble to safety. The radio calls that did make it through amongst the long silences where you felt so alone. The sound of Emily’s voice over comms, clipped, professional, but trembling at the edges.

You remember her hand on your back when you made it out. The way she held on, just a second too long. The way she didn’t let go even after the medics cleared you.

You push yourself upright, muscles protesting. A bottle of water waits on the nightstand. So does your phone, charging where someone, probably her, left it. There's a quiet hum to the room. No TV, no voices. Just the low buzz of distant city noise.

You rub at your eyes, then tap the screen of your phone.

One new voicemail.

Your heart jumps a little. Emily Prentiss. A timestamp that marks it as a late message. From last night. After the dust settled. After the adrenaline wore off. After you fell into this bed and didn’t move.

You hesitate. You feel the weight of the message as if it had actually weighted down your phone. You're not sure you can deal if it's a butt dial. You need it to mean something.

Eventually, you press play.

Emily’s voice filters through the speaker, it is low, uneven, tired. But something else is there too. Something unguarded.

“I know you’re okay.”

You freeze.

“I know you’re just in the next room. Breathing. Healing…”

You sit back slowly, the phone pressed tight to your ear. Every word is soft, but it hits hard. She doesn’t sound like the agent you’ve worked beside for years. She sounds like someone who almost lost the person she loved and didn’t know how to say it until it was almost too late.

Your throat tightens.

“I love you.”

You close your eyes.

God.

She said it. She really said it. Like the words had been waiting all this time, coiled up and burning.

You listen all the way through. Twice. Maybe even a third time.

You don’t delete it.

Instead, you save it.

Then you get up, carefully, tug on your hoodie, and step into the hall.

Her door is closed. You know she’s inside, her room is always next to yours. You’ve never questioned it. Garcia calls it convenient. JJ calls it obvious.

You don’t knock. Not yet.

Instead, you slide the phone back into your pocket and breathe.

Later. Not now.

She said it first. She said it when she thought it might be her only chance.

And that matters. That means everything.

When you finally see her, when she opens her door later that morning in sweatpants and a faded FBI tee, coffee in hand, hair still damp from the shower, you don’t say anything at first.

But you hug her.

Longer than usual.

And this time, she holds on.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Emily’s been quiet the whole plane journey home.

Not tense exactly, not visibly, but you know her too well not to see it. The way her jaw tightens when you crack a joke. The way her eyes flick to you too often, like she’s checking for damage. Like she’s checking for distance.

She’s giving you space. Or trying to.

She thinks you didn’t hear it. Or worse, that you did, and you’re choosing not to respond. She’s always been good at hiding her fear in the field, but this is different. This is personal. This is her heart, left unguarded in the dark.

And now she’s not sure what’s left of it.

The case had been wrapped by late morning. The bomber’s in custody, the paperwork is filed, and the team splits off in pairs as soon as your feet hit the jet. Some playing cards, others talking, one or two already on paperwork.

Despite her attempts at avoiding you, you and Emily end up in the back seats, alone.

Of course.

She lets her body relax into the leather, arms crossed loosely, head tipped back against the fabric. Her shoulders curve inward like she’s bracing for something... an impact, a silence, a goodbye. You watch the clouds rush past the window.

Then, “I got your message.”

Her eyes fly open. Her head turns sharply. “What?”

You glance at her, lips tugging into the smallest smile. “The voicemail. I heard it.”

Emily doesn’t move. Not at first. Her mouth opens, but whatever apology she’s about to form dies before it makes it out. “I’m s—” she starts, and that’s all it takes.

You shake your head gently. “Don’t be.”

The plane hums.

You shuffle in closer, slow and sure, until you’re in her space, not crowding, just close. Close like you always are, but this time there’s no pretending. No safe distance.

“Because I love you too.”

There. Said. Simple and clear.

Emily exhales, sharp and shaky, like she’s been holding that breath for a year. Maybe longer. “You do?” she says, and it’s not doubt, it’s disbelief. Hope, raw and cracking open.

You nod. “Yeah. I think I have for a while.”

Her lips part, eyes glinting, and you can see it all in her: the fear, the relief, the flood of everything she hasn’t let herself hope for.

Someone wins a round of cards at the other end, there's some laughter, applause.

Neither of you move.

Not yet.

You reach for her hand, slow and deliberate, fingers brushing hers until she laces them through yours.

“You could’ve told me,” you say softly.

She nods. “I know. I just didn’t want to risk losing you.”

You squeeze her hand. “You never would’ve.”

And she believes you.

Because you’re still here. You came back. And this time, there’s no almost. No missed timing. No unsaid thing left floating between hotel rooms and half-glances.

This time, it's real.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

It's the next day and the moment you walk into the BAU together, you know you’ve been made.

It’s not the holding hands - you’re not, though your hands did brush on the way in, fingers hovering like it’s second nature now. It’s not even the matching coffees or the fact that you tried to arrive a minute apart on purpose like it wasn’t planned.

It’s the look on Garcia’s face.

She clocks you both from across the bullpen, blinks once, and immediately abandons her desk.

“You!” she stage-whispers, pointing dramatically. “And you!”

You open your mouth to deny, deflect, do anything that might buy you a few minutes of peace but Emily just lifts her coffee and takes a slow sip, as if to say go ahead.

Garcia gasps like you just proposed in the elevator.

“I knew it! Oh my god. Oh my god. When? No, don’t tell me yet, I want to guess. Vegas? The jet? Wait- were you secretly dating during that Seattle case last year?!”

Emily finally smirks, setting her coffee down on her desk. “You’re spiraling, Penelope.”

“That’s because I’ve waited years for this and no one told me!” Garcia clutches at her heart like you’ve both committed high treason. “JJ owes me twenty bucks. She said it wouldn’t happen until one of you almost died again.”

“Technically,” JJ says as she walks up, grinning, “I said it would take another near-death experience. Which it did.”

You groan. “You all bet on us?”

“Not bet,” Rossi says as he strolls past. “We just made… educated predictions.”

“I made a chart,” Garcia says brightly.

You blink. “A chart?”

“Oh yeah. Variables, timelines, body language analysis, shoulder-touch frequency. Spencer helped.”

Reid, from the coffee machine: “Their eye contact increased by twenty-seven percent after Denver. It was a trend.”

Emily chokes on her sip. “You graphed our eye contact?”

“And your coordinated outfits,” Garcia says. “But that part was less conclusive.”

“Wow,” you say. “I feel so… known.”

“Oh, honey,” JJ says, “we’ve known.”

She gives you a look. One you’ve seen a dozen times, in hotel hallways, beside SUVs, during post-case exhaustion when you’d sit too close and say too little. She saw it before you did. They all did.

And now, it’s just out in the open.

Emily reaches for your hand. It is subtle, brief, but steady. You don’t hide it.

“Hey, just so we’re clear,” Garcia says, spinning dramatically on her heel, “I’m officiating the wedding.”

“There’s no wedding,” Emily calls after her. "yet."

“Yet!” Garcia echoes from the hall with a whoop.

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anim-ttrpgs · 2 months ago

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Why You Should Try Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Part 10: It Has Intense Action

This is part 10 of a multi-part series of posts about the awesome features of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, in no particular order.

Find the earlier parts here:

Part 1 Link: We Worked Hard on It!

Part 2 Link: It's Easy to Learn!

Part 3 Link: It's Easy to GM!

Part 4 Link: It's Easy to GM and Supports Narrative and Roleplay!

Part 5 Link: It Revolutionizes Investigation and Mystery Solving in TTRPGs

Part 6 Link: PCs are Not Just Mystery Solving Automatons

Part 7 Link: Excellent Time-Keeping Mechanics Keep the Pressure On

Part 8 Link: Fun and Easy Character Creation

Part 9 Link: Themes of Disability

For a while in its development, Eureka had a section dedicated to combat, but now that section is more broadly called “dangerous situations.” It’s rare, but dangerous situations will inevitably come up. The question is, will the PCs be prepared for them? Eureka has rules to cover everything from gunshot wounds to car crashes, from falling off buildings to drowning. If something bad can happen to a person, there’s probably a section in the rulebook covering how it would affect a Eureka PC mechanically. A lot of the times the answer will be they die, but how fast they die, and what they can do to save themselves in that time, is crucial.

Eureka takes a very “trad RPG” approach to this sort of thing, where violence and other dangers are something highly lethal, and therefore best avoided if the PCs are smart, but that the nature of what they’re doing means that it’s bound to happen eventually, and therefore the game rules need to provide a lot of “tools” and options within those situations, thereby creating agency over whether they live or die. PCs do not necessarily have to have “good” combat stats to survive, as many players so far can attest. It encourages them to be clever and cautious about things, and allows them to exorcise that cleverness and caution, without bogging the game down in too many numbers or charts.

Weapons will usually take any character down in one to two hits, and even when unarmed, characters have a wide variety of techniques that they can attempt, including the world’s first ever TTRPG grappling rules that are actually fun and advantageous!

Guns are as deadly in Eureka as in real life, and the type of gun matters a lot. That isn’t to say the exact model makes a huge difference, that would be too granular for what we’re attempting to do. A Glock 19 and a Beretta 92 would both fall under “Semi-Automatic Pistol” and function identically. Trust us, this all runs smoothly once you read it.

Bullets do 4 Penetrative Damage each, and most firearm categories are capable of firing multiple bullets within a single turn, each rolled separately. Direct hits are usually fight-ending, but that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Even with a high Firearms skill, these shots are being taken under extreme duress, and factors like cover, distance, movement, etc. will affect them too. Most shots fired will miss, and you might think that would be boring, but it’s not because of the next thing I’m going to talk about.

The Woo Roll

Named after director John Woo, the Woo Roll is a mechanic that’s makes it so that bullets don’t just disappear into thin air when they miss.

When any shot misses, a Woo Roll is made, which means something is going to happen that changes the situation as a result of that shot. (That’s one Woo Roll per turn, no matter whether one or thirty shots miss.) This roll determines whether the effect is good or bad for the shooter. A good result might mean that the shot hits a fire extinguisher behind the target, spraying him with foam and gas, disrupting his next shot. A bad result might mean the shot hits a gas line, and now the building is on fire. Usually the rule is that it’s whatever the most obvious and interesting thing within the confines of being good or bad for the shooter, but if there isn’t anything around, then we also have tables you can roll on.

Chase Mechanics

Combat is only likely to last a few rounds, but everything characters do in those rounds is crucial. These situations dynamic and deadly, and evolve rapidly, and if things are going south, run away!

Eureka has rules and incentives that can quickly shift the location of a conflict as one or more parties tries to flee. This works pretty similarly to combat, but, of course, the parties are moving and fighting across larger areas, causing the situation to evolve even more rapidly. Characters will have to overcome obstacles to keep ahead of their pursuers or catch up to their targets. These obstacles are rolled on a table that matches the environment the chase is happening in, heres a few highlights [images of entries]

As you can probably see, some of these obstacles can take a character out as easily as an enemy could. The kind of dynamic, cinematic car and foot chases these rules create are always something special.

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rhyrhy · 4 months ago

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Venom in the veins 🕸️

Spider!Ellie x Fem Villain reader

✦ Synopsis: When trust is broken, and alliances shift. Your local friendly neighborhood spiderwoman! is forced to choose between her love and loyalty!

✦ Warnings: enemies to lovers to enemies..? Angst, violence, death/grief , language, romantic tension, familial issues. 5k words.

A/n: thank you to @s0phi3w4lt3n , because their lovely brain is helping make this possible. This is chapters 1-2. (3-7 will be separate posts!) + Ellie’s suit desc is based off this beautiful art!

October 5th

I guess I finally understand what it means to wear the weight of something bigger than yourself.

Nobody tells you how lonely this gets. They say it’s a responsibility. A privilege. But nobody warns you about the nights when your body’s so sore you can’t move, or when you have to smile at people who would hate you if they knew the whole truth.

And the worst part? I should’ve seen it coming.

I should’ve known the second I woke up with a spider bite the size of a penny and a bad feeling in my gut.

But I was just a dumb kid clinging to Joel’s leg in the ER, sure I was about to drop dead…

Being a hero wasn’t as simple as they made it look in the comics she read. It wasn’t just about the mask—it was about juggling the power, the responsibility, and the weight of knowing that, at any moment, everything could come crashing down.

And in the end? It was always a game of masks. Who’s hiding behind them, and who’s fooling who?

Ellie wasn’t the best at keeping secrets.

Especially not when she had a spider bite the , wrapped in white gauze and held together with SpongeBob bandages that did little to ease her nerves. Her pain tolerance wasn’t exactly low, but weren’t black widows deadly? She could still feel the long-gone venom burning in her bloodstream—or maybe she just thought she did.

“Joel, I’m too young to die!” A younger Ellie whined, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clung to his leg.

“You aren’t dying. They said you’ll be sore at most.” He sighed, patting her head.

“Dramatic” wasn’t the word he’d use to describe the distraught figure clinging to him like she truly believed her life depended on it. Eleanor “Ellie” Anna Williams, at the ripe age of twelve, gave her adoptive father more wrinkles than he could count.

This time, it wasn’t a scraped knee from wobbly attempts at skateboarding, or a burn on her forearm from trying to make him breakfast. It was a spider bite. She didn’t get a good look when she flung her head after the sting set in, but she was almost certain what that eight-legged creature was that had crept onto her hand while she doodled on her notebook in science class.

She rambled about it the whole way from the school’s nursing office to the emergency room. Not even the radio could drown out the frantic girl, who loved all things nature—as long as it wasn’t trying to kill her. She’d just learned to use a training bra. She couldn’t die now.

“I’m not?” she said, her green watery eyes looking up at him.

“No. Weren’t you listening to what the nice lady said? The one in blue scrubs?”

To be honest, she wasn’t. However, she did remember the woman he was referring to—and the way she made her heart race. Even now, as a young adult, Ellie would bring her up when questioned about her gay awakening.

“You’re goin’ to be fine kiddo” He bent down to her level, his Texan accent dragging out his ��n”s.

Comforting her had become something Joel mastered over the years. Trying to navigate Ellie’s spectrum between smart mouth and nervous breakdowns wasn’t easy for a man in his early thirties. But he’d found a way to wedge himself somewhere right in the middle—right where she needed him.

If there was one thing Ellie learned quickly, it was that Joel knew best. With legs full of scars and scrapes and a pair of worn-out Converse that Joel begged her to throw away, Eleanor—who preferred just ‘Ellie’—skated into her high school years.

Going from Little Orphan Annie, which she hated when assholes at school called her that, to your average teenager in the big city of Seattle, everything was completely normal.

Except it wasn’t. At all.

In fact, nothing about Ellie was normal. But the unusual started small—extremely small—and Ellie didn’t know any better. At first, she thought it was just the weed she smoked with Jesse still messing with her system.

Because ever since that fateful day in seventh grade, weird, borderline supernatural things had started happening.

She couldn’t tell you exactly how it all started—at least, not without cringing through the many, many journals she kept as a teenager—but somewhere in the mess of scribbled notes and half-finished sketches, there was an entry about a joke gone wrong.

One night, on a dare to see how long she could hold a handstand, Ellie found herself upside down—only she wasn’t just balancing. She was walking. On her ceiling.

The next morning, she convinced herself it was just some weird, half-awake dream. But when she tried it again—yeah, no. She wasn’t dreaming.

“Holy shit!” she blurted out, stumbling back to the ground.

“Language!” Joel’s voice rang out from the living room, blissfully unaware of the very sticky situation unfolding just a few feet away.

Ellie swallowed, staring at her feet. “Holy shit…” she whispered again, this time to herself.

For a while, she tried to ignore it. Between figuring out her sexuality and preparing for an upcoming science fair, she had enough on her plate. So when weird things happened—like catching something mid-fall way too fast or feeling vibrations through the walls—she brushed it off.

But the signs were getting harder to ignore. Especially when she asked Riley if she could hear that sound—

—and Riley just stared at her.

“Hear what?” Riley asked, setting up their volcano project.

“That—” Ellie waved her hand vaguely. “You seriously don’t hear it?”

Riley squinted. “Williams, I love you, but you have absolutely lost it.”

Ellie would’ve argued back, but the sound was coming from three tables down.

“Booger-eater James?” Riley snorted, nodding toward the kid hunched over a glass box of spiders. Not sure how that was science experiment. “He’s just standing there. With his creepy crawlers. I pray for him once we hit eleventh grade—he’s never getting a girlfriend.”

Panic set in—sudden and overwhelming—as her mind spiraled. Was this some weird side effect of the bite? Or was it something worse? She thought about her biological family, about the things she didn’t know, about the one thing she did worry about when it came to her health.

These were crazy person signs, right? Or worse—crazy person genes running through her blood. Torn between telling a school counselor or just locking herself in the bathroom to cry, Ellie excused herself from Riley and approached the table. But the closer she got, the louder the sound became. A crawling, chittering hum that made her stomach flip.

There was no way she was communicating with something that had more than two eyes and eight legs. An arachnid, for crying out loud.

Don’t get her wrong, Ellie loved science. But people who claimed this kind of stuff? They got laughed out of programs. Stripped of titles, accreditations. Blacklisted. Snow White talking to animals was one thing. A teenage girl talking to spiders? That was an entirely different planet.

But the more she thought about it… the more it made sense.

The heightened senses. The weird reflexes. And that bite mark—the one she was so sure would scar? It was completely gone the next morning when her bandage fell off in the shower.

What started as a sneaking suspicion was quickly turning into a daunting realization.

Ellie tried to ignore it. She really, really did.

For the next few weeks, she chalked it up to stress, exhaustion, anything that made more sense than the alternative. But the signs weren’t stopping. If anything, they were getting worse.

The way her body moved before she even had time to think. The way she could feel things that weren’t there—like the vibrations of footsteps before someone entered a room. The way her grip had changed—how she accidentally shattered a glass one night at dinner, how the basketball stuck to her hand a second too long in gym class.

She stopped journaling about it. She stopped mentioning it to Riley. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. this was so , so much worse than the time she wasn’t allowed to leave the dinner table until she finished her brussels sprouts.

And that was how she found herself standing in front of her bedroom window one night, hoodie zipped up, black Converse laced tight.

Sneaking out wasn’t new to her. She’d done it before. Skating out to meet Jesse, tagging walls in alleyways. But this?

This wasn’t just sneaking out.

That night, she got her first real taste of herself without the skintight suit she now wears like a badge.

Little did she know at the time, how important that near miss would be.

“Glad nobody saw that.” An embarrassed Ellie giggled to herself, standing to her feet after stumbling for the hundredth time.

Parkour always seemed a little odd to her—she preferred her guitar or a late-night reading session, but those seemed to lay still on her bookshelf nowadays. I mean, who wanted to potentially hurt themselves running along buildings, jumping from concrete to concrete, brick to brick? Short answer: she did.

Long answer: the stairwell right behind her apartment building, leading to the city’s rooftops. Mariano’s, her favorite pizza joint that always closed way too early in her opinion, the old library that closed down only to be replaced a few doors down, and the laundromat. Dusting off her jeans, she’d do this for what felt like hours.

The back and forth would make normal civilians sick—feet swollen to hell. But for Ellie, after a fight with Joel about curfew or an unnecessarily long school day, as soon as the sun set, this was her heaven.

She wasn’t normal. She’d established that a long time ago. But it’s not like she could exactly tell people she could do these kinds of things. They’d look at her the way Riley did. A FYI, she was so right about James—after graduation, he still never got a girlfriend.

Ellie, on the other hand, had quite a few up until graduation.

A shared kiss with Riley, a faded stick-and-poke cat the girl in her art class gave her, and her unforgettable first time with the first girl she could truly say she loved: Dina.

To say “fair share” was a bit of an understatement. It was more about quality than quantity. Her building real connections, some still lingering around. Some took the high road, choosing to stay the bitter ex. But Ellie didn’t see it like that. She appreciated the good and the bad, even if she did have to get a real tattoo over that stick-and-poke cat.

But times like these, where she let her feet carry her across the city, were when she was allowed to forget about all that, leave it in the past where it belonged, and focus on the future. But even with her tassel turned, she always found herself in that alleyway, climbing up that same fire escape to get to the roof.

The city lights below flickered like distant stars. So many people, but none of them knew her name. Maybe that was for the best. In this city, the only person Ellie needed to be was herself.

The wind against her skin felt sharper tonight, like she could almost taste the city’s pulse. A distant car honked, but she didn’t hear it the same way anymore. It was all part of the rhythm, the energy that seemed to flow through her, the way the rooftops called her to them.

For now, the rooftops were hers. But she knew, deep down, that wouldn’t last forever. Heroes, villains—one day, someone would come looking for her. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe.

Freshly graduated, Ellie was hanging out with friends at her favorite pizza joint, the smell of pepperoni filling the air, and the sound of laughter ringing in her ears. It was one of those normal, relaxed nights. nothing out of the ordinary. Or at least, it didn’t seem that way at first.

But when a hooded figure paced back and forth in front of their table for the fourth time, Ellie couldn’t help but feel a cold chill run down her spine. Her green eyes snapped to the sound, hands slowly lowering the slice of pizza she’d been about to take a bite of.

“That young man stole my purse!” A woman’s voice broke through the hum of the restaurant, her trembling hands pointing toward the culprit.

Ellie’s green gaze snapped to the man now hurrying down the sidewalk, his steps quick, his movements too frantic. The adrenaline surged through her as she pushed her chair back and stood, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door. She didn’t wear her mask yet, but the sensation of needing to act was unmistakable.

She couldn’t just let it go.

The man was fast, but he wasn’t fast enough. Ellie darted into the street, weaving between pedestrians like a blur, the sound of her footsteps muffled by the city’s noise. When she reached him, she tackled him with everything she had, the force knocking the purse out of his hand and sending him stumbling backward.

He didn’t stick around to fight back. In a flash, he bolted, disappearing into the shadows before Ellie could react.

She stood there, chest heaving as she clutched the purse in her hands. The woman, now catching up to her, approached with wide eyes.

“You got it back!” The woman gasped, her voice thick with relief.

Ellie smiled awkwardly, handing the purse back to her. “I… I guess I did.” Heart still racing.

Before she could say more, the woman pulled her into a tight hug. Ellie froze, not knowing what to do. She had no idea this small act of kindness would cause a strange warmth to spread through her chest.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “I don’t know what I would’ve done…”

Ellie gently pulled back, her heart still racing. She was pretty sure she was just a regular girl, with no superpowers or any big secret to her name. But in that moment, the feeling of doing the right thing—of helping someone in need—felt bigger than anything she’d ever experienced. Maybe she was crazy. But a little bit of crazy could do good.

And Ellie? She loved justice.

“Bullshit. No way you tackled him like that.” Abby’s voice rang out, interrupting Ellie’s storytelling.

“Alright, maybe I exaggerated a little bit, but I’m telling you, I kicked ass.” Ellie laughed, holding the door open for the tall blonde.

“Uh huh. Sure, Williams.” Abby huffed, walking past her into the bookstore. The familiar chime of the doorbell rang out above them, a small sound that felt like a second home.

Ellie inhaled deeply, taking in the comforting smell of ink and crisp pages being turned. She loved it here, more than the silly pictures of cats online, which, in the Williams world, meant a lot.

Abby, tall and always a step ahead in the teasing department, fell into step beside her. One of the few friends Ellie could confide in. Even if that came with endless ribbing. Ellie could admit that she’d told the “first save” story a million times, but it was one of the few she could tell without giving herself away—without breaking her promise. The promise she made to herself when she officially earned her title as ‘hero.’

But here, in the bookstore, she could nerd out all she wanted. No secrets to hide, no need to pretend. She could throw in the subtle bragging without fear of it getting back to the wrong people.

Ellie wasn’t a huge talker. She preferred humming to herself or getting lost in her own thoughts. As she scrolled past the comic book section, her fingers brushing against the glossy covers of vibrant colors and bubble letters, she was suddenly back in time. A place of nostalgia. Staying up way past her bedtime, reading comics under the covers with a trusty red flashlight.

When the small tv in the corner of the store caught her attention. A new report, crime in the city’s streets. detailing the latest wave of crime sweeping through the city. From petty purse snatching to stolen identities—and sometimes, even lives. It was all too familiar.

“This just in: Another robbery in the city’s streets. Police are still on the lookout for the suspect,” the newscaster announced.

She hated it, the fear in people’s eyes. The feeling of a warm blanket being ripped off all because a few people probably weren’t hugged enough as kids. If anybody knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie, and what she didn’t do was use that and take it out on the world. The last thing she expected years from this moment is trying to be understanding with the one who did.

If anyone knew a rough childhood, it was Ellie. But she didn’t use that as an excuse to lash out at the world.

In fact, the last thing she ever expected, years from this moment, was to try and understand the person behind the violence.

“Jesus, this city’s falling apart,” Abby muttered, her eyes still glued to the screen. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

It made her sick. The injustice. The feeling of helplessness.

“Sometimes, people just need to learn the world doesn’t owe them anything,”

Abby looked over at her, but Ellie kept her eyes on the chaos. The sirens were already wailing in the distance, but they’d never get there in time—not when the damage had already been done. And when the cops finally showed up. Just yellow police, tape and tears.

“Scary, huh?” Abby said, standing beside her, arms crossed. She shot a glance at the scene before turning back to Ellie. “Where are the cops when you need them?”

Ellie scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, they always show up too late. After the damage’s already done. It’s like they just don’t care enough to stop it before it gets out of hand. Makes you wonder if anyone’s actually doing anything about it.”

Abby sighed in agreement. “Someone should.”

Ellie’s mind wandered then, as it often did in moments like this. She’d seen it all too many times—the heroes who talked big but never seemed to get things done. But the ones who really caught her attention were the ones who operated in the shadows. The ones who didn’t care about fame or recognition.

Her thoughts drifted to The Phantom—a mysterious figure who’d been cleaning up the streets for years. Nobody knew their true identity, and that was the way they liked it. No flashy costumes, no headlines, just quiet, effective justice. They worked in the shadows, out of sight, but the results spoke for themselves.

“Maybe someone like that could show up,” Ellie murmured. “Someone who teaches people the lesson that their actions have consequences. Not just words, but real, lasting consequences.”

Abby raised an eyebrow, casting her a sideways glance. “Wait, are you seriously saying you’d want to be like them? A shadowy figure, handing out justice however you see fit?”

“Maybe. I mean, someone has to.”

And someone did. She did, she had to. things quickly escalated from saving purses to kittens out of trees you name it Ellie was there.

So what about the fabric hung deep in her closet. The one she mentions hundreds of times in her journals throughout the years.

Well, It wasn’t like she had a fancy suit. No, Ellie had to make do. Her costume came from a combination of chance and necessity. Absolutely one of those “it just happened” moments that ended up being so much more.

It started with a hand-me-down.

After one night where she barely managed to escape with a bruised arm and a scraped knee, Ellie found herself on the edge of the city. In a forgotten corner of a local alley, tucked behind an old, unused storage unit, Ellie found a discarded suit. It was a mix of gray, black, and green fabric—more rugged than sleek, a little worn out, but something about it screamed potential. Her hand reached out for it, like she could feel the joy she’d bring with it on her skin.

fit like a second skin. It didn’t stand out too much, which was good; Ellie didn’t want to draw attention, not yet. The colors worked too—gray for blending in, black for stealth, and green because… well, why not? It matched her eyes.

One afternoon, Ellie had found herself standing outside a local store, looking out over the city, when a voice caught her attention. It was a soft voice, one that belonged to a little girl.

“How’d you get up there? You move like a spider.”

Ellie smiled beneath her mask, thinking about the first time she made the jump to scale a building. She was very clumsy, but she’d learned quickly. It was funny, she hadn’t really thought much about it until now. A spider… That’s what had started this whole thing.

The bite she thought would kill her.

“What’s your name, hero?” the little girl asked, her wide eyes.

Ellie hesitated. A name?… A spider? This was a loaded question. But That’s what they called her, wasn’t it? She was just some kid trying to do right by the world.

“Spider… uh… girl… woman!” She blurted out, almost embarrassed. Hoping it sounded cool, so in the moment, she went with it.

“Spider Woman. Yeah, that’s it.”

She didn’t mind the title. It was fitting, simple.

Spider-woman. Silly, right? It sounded like something out of the DC Comics stacked in her room. And she loved it.

The name was sung like gospel on the news, printed in bold ink for those who still bothered with newspapers.

On one channel, a reporter stood in front of a cityscape, microphone in hand.

“The masked vigilante, called ‘Spider-Woman’ by the public, continues to stir-up debate. Some call her a hero, while others question if she’s just another masked threat. We hit the streets of Seattle to hear what the people really have to say.”

Cop, off duty: “Look, I don’t make the rules, but I do enforce them. Vigilante or not, she’s got a record, and that means trouble.”

Masked kid in a homemade costume: “She’s like, a ninja or something! I think she’s cool!”

Teen girl with dyed hair: “She’s kind of badass, not gonna lie.” She shrugged.

younger woman with a toddler: “Are you kidding? She’s the only one out here actually doing something! You ever had a gun in your face? ‘Cause I have. If she’s around, I know I’m making it home.”

The tv Cuts back to the news anchor at the desk, straightening their papers.

“You heard it here folks! Love her or hate her, one thing’s for sure. she’s out there. And she’s just getting started.” The news reporter finished.

But every hero had their villain.

And Ellie? She was crushing on hers.

With Brown hair tied back, wheels skimming smoothly across the pavement. No suit today, just a hoodie and jeans, her usual off-duty attire. As a creature of habit, she skated her way to the bookstore like clockwork, the same route.

Had she finished the last two comics she bought? Absolutely. A little faster than intended. But a five-minute ride was nothing for a girl who spent most of her nights swinging across the city, trying to do right by the world. In her own way.

The streets of downtown Seattle buzzed with life, familiar shop signs blurring past her periphery—the record store with the neon “Vinyl Lives” sign, the café that always smelled like burnt coffee, and the corner thrift shop with racks of clothes spilling onto the sidewalk.

Then—“Shit—!”

Ellie barely had time to swerve, nearly colliding with someone standing dead center in her path.

“Sorry!” she called over her shoulder, skidding to a halt a few feet away.

The person barely reacted. Headphones on, phone in hand, just a slight jerk of the shoulder to let her pass. like they’d done it a thousand times.

Ellie shot them one last glance, catching just a flicker of their face. The shape of their eyes, the calm in their posture despite the near collision. No sense of surprise, Weird. Most people flinched.

Shaking it off, she kicked forward again, hitting the sidewalk with a small exhale. Board tucked under her arm, she pulled open the door to the bookstore, the familiar jingle of the bell bringing an easy grin to her face.

“Like clockwork. You are so predictable, Williams,” Josh, the store clerk, greeted from behind the counter.

“What can I say?” Ellie shrugged, stepping inside. “When you’re a comic book connoisseur—”

“—It becomes a lifestyle,” Josh finished, smirking. “Indeed you are.”

Ellie chuckled, already making her way toward the shelves, completely unaware that the person she nearly crashed into was about to become a permanent part of her life.

She just didn’t know it yet. And neither did you.

Just few moments before …

“What an idiot,” a deep voice muttered, entering the back alley. Away from prying eyes.

You rolled your eyes, arms crossed as you leaned against the brick wall beside him. “She was skating. God, do you ever lighten—”

His hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing just enough to remind you. Not a threat. Not yet.

Your mouth shut. Swallowing your retort.

He exhaled through his nose, slow and measured. Thinking. Shit. Your gut told you to argue, to roll your shoulders back and step away. But you didn’t.

She wasn’t. You knew that. But your world didn’t allow second guesses.

Unlike Ellie, there were no scraped knees followed by fatherly reassurances. No kissing boo-boos, no gentle words. Hell, in your world, mistakes didn’t just hurt. They burned.

And the man towering over you now, eyes sharp as a blade’s, wasn’t the type to let things slide. The city dubbed him Red Hand, a name spoken in hushed whispers.

But you just settled for—

“Will you relax, old man? I get it.” You scoffed, swatting his hand away.

Old man. Boss. Everything but Dad. He didn’t deserve that title. Maybe once, when you were too young to know better. But now? Now, you couldn’t remember the last time you saw anything close to affection in his eyes. Sure, you’d hear a gruff, “You did good, kid,” now and then—but only after running his errands. Only when you were useful.

That’s how this started. You don’t grow a hatred for the world overnight. It’s molded into you when you’re most likely to sponge it all up. Seeing people for what they really are, learning early that it’s survival, not love.

Your real parents? Nothing but a shadow of the past. A blanket. A half-hearted note. A promise that you’d be “taken care of.” Not loved. Not held. Just… handled.

And he did. In his way. He didn’t mark your growth on a doorframe. He didn’t pack lunches with little notes that said, “Have a great day, love you.”

No, that was too soft. The Red Hand was feared. With just a snap of his fingers, his problems were taken care of—no questions asked.

At first, you weren’t sure who they were—the ones who carried out his orders, the ones who came and went like shadows. Or why he always denied your late-night tea parties with Mr. Bear.

One eye missing. Fur worn and faded from too many hugs. The first toy he’d ever bought you. Well, stolen. But it was a gift nonetheless.

You used to crack your bedroom door open at night, small fingers barely making a sound as you peeked through the gap. Trying to make out the hushed conversations happening just a few feet away.

Never catching much. But it was whispered for a reason. And even as a kid, you knew better than to ask.

Then came second grade. You walked through the door with puffy eyes and a fresh bruise on your cheek. He barely looked up from his paper as he slid an ice pack across the table.

“And did you hit them back?”

Your small legs dangled off the couch as you shook your head. “No…”

The paper rustled as he set it down, finally looking at you. “C’mere, kid. Let me show you something.”

And he did. With careful, practiced movements, he taught you where to aim. How to make it count. Jabs, punches.

“Those little shits won’t bug you too much after this.”

You learned quickly. Not just how to hit, but when. Where. How to read a room. How to never show weakness.

Because in his world? Weakness was a death sentence.

So no, there were no bedtime stories. No reassurances whispered into your hair. Just lessons. And you learned them all. After all, it paid to be useful. Even if that meant the occasional run to the principal’s office

The city doesn’t care. People don’t care. They’re too busy fighting to stay on top. So why bother trying to be something else? Why bother saving anyone when they’ll just let you down? He’d shown you what the world truly was. A place where you had to take what you wanted.

A place where you had to survive, no matter the cost.

You’d stopped asking questions a long time ago. Why did they leave? Why did he allow you to stay? What was that gnawing feeling deep in your gut? You’d stopped wondering about what could be, what should be. This was it. This was all there was.

And as Ellie’s world spun with hope, with the promise of doing right, yours had long since given up. Because in your world, saving lives wasn’t enough. The world didn’t reward you for being a hero. No. It rewarded you for knowing when to stop asking, when to take what you were given.

Dressed in black, learning what was most important: to keep moving.

To be continued …..

Line dividers | 2 | 3

Ellie m.list

Taglist @0h-basic

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vexwerewolf · 5 months ago

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How would you add depth and complexity to the culture of the Purview?

Right now, the KTB gets way more attention both because of the two supplements dedicated to it and because the competing noble houses each with its different gimmick and political alignment make it so easy to come up with drama and intrigue.

Meanwhile the Purview seems, both in and out of fiction, flat and uniform. I'm sure its leadership would want to see it and have it seen that way, but given how much it keeps expanding, and therefore adding new cultures to itself, it would have to have a lot of diversity under the hood, even if it would like to pretend otherwise.

I definitely think the Purview has a harder time of it than the KTB, but that's largely because we have a Field Guide to the KTB, whereas the Field Guide to Harrison Armory never got published because of Miguel's non-compete.

There's also the problem that the KTB has this... glamour to it, in both the modern and traditional senses of the word. I've noticed this in a lot of sci-fi properties - that applying the veneer of nobility and monarchy to something can make people forget or forgive its transgressions more easily.

When Harrison Armory, the nationalist corprostate, does imperialist expansion, we can point at it and immediately say "that's a fascism" (even when it's actually... not? Imperialist expansion is always bad but it's not always necessarily fascistic). But somehow, when the KTB do the same or sometimes worse things, like using nanite terror weapons on Free Sanjak, I've noticed people are quicker to make excuses? Like, oh, yeah that's obviously bad but their society works different the KTB are a big place and like of course they're shitty traditionalists and that's really only the Hagiographs and at least the Karrakin have Republican elements who want change and reform and yeah it's bad but aren't Knightly Chivalrous Mechs Just So Gosh Darned Cool?!

I think the nuance of the KTB is also helped by the fact that they're explicitly depicted as non-monolithic. There are ten named Major Houses with their own distinct cultures, politics and homeworlds, and great pains are taken to ensure us that there's multifarious cultures and religions even on an individual world. HA suffers because to some extent it would be more monolithic - it's a nationalist corprostate with only 400 years of history, compared to the KTB's hybrid elective-monarchy neofeudal federation with 10,000.

HA is distinctly American in the way that the nation has become a brand, and a good citizen has to remain on-brand, so things would be more homogenized. To add to that, omninet and blinkgate technology has existed for the whole of HA's lifespan. The unique and distinct cultures of the KTB worlds came about largely because they spent millennia separated from one another by light years. HA has never had this issue, and likely never will. They have the option - and, more importantly, are motivated - to keep a homogenous culture across all of the Purview.

Lancer is fundamentally a game about examining and fighting against unjust structures of power that oppress people but also being larger-than-life heroes that have fun doing it, and the KTB has an innate leg up by virtue of the fact that it has what I'd call a really strong "initial sell:" YOU'RE A SPACE KNIGHT! SPACE KNIGHTS ARE COOL! (PLEASE DON'T EXAMINE SPACEE FEUDALISM!)

To make Harrison Armory compelling, you'd need a similarly strong initial sell for them. And I think I know just the thing.

FOR HUMANITY! FOR LIBERTY! FOR HARRISON! (Please don't examine space nationalism!)

If I were to write the Harrison Armory Field Guide (Tom and Miguel HMU - just kidding. Unless...?), I'd make it BIG and LOUD and OVER THE TOP and OBVIOUS PROPAGANDA with insertions of the actual truth from a HORUS hacker on the side. I'd put Harrison Armory's positioning as "liberators of the galaxy" front and center - "we dive feet-first into hell to save people from tyrants and slavers. We do the work even the UDoJ/HR won't do. Please do not examine our imperialism or social credit system."

#lancer rpg #lancer #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #harrison armory

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

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Can you do reader is Lando’s little sister and favourite but they barely see each other cause reader is at boarding school and she surprises him at the race. Also cameo of some other drivers too please.

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Summary - Request above xo

Warning - Like one swear one

During her last year of primary education, Cisca and Adam both sat their youngest child down and discussed the possibility of boarding school.

Both knew it would be hard for the whole family to separate. Yet they both also knew that it would make their lives a lot easier.

With Landos up and coming career in motorsport racing and the rest of their children's careers also slowly building up, neither parent wanted to deprive or abandon Y/n. So with her agreement, they enrolled her into a well reviewed and well known boarding school a few miles out of Bristol.

Laurence Crawford Boarding.

The first few days, of course she was homesick. Missing Lando more than anyone else in the family. Of course. But eventually Y/n made friends and was becoming more and more independent by the day.

“Hey Mum!” The young girl giggled down the phone. She was in her shared dorm with a few friends when Cisca called. “Annie! No stop! Ew!”

Cisca took note of her daughter's divided attention, taking an easy guess that she was hanging out with a few friends. “Hi sweetheart, am I calling at a bad time?” Even though neither could see each other, she had a warm and proud smile on her face just thinking about how far Y/n has come.

The innocent giggle down the phone grew quieter and quieter. Y/n was walking away from her friends. “Sorry mum, yeah I can talk. We were just having a games night in my dorm…” Ciscas heart just warmed, happy that her youngest child was growing up and maturing.

“Oh no worries, go and hang out with your friends! Have fun!” And with a couple goodbyes and a ‘I love you’ between the two, Y/n was back hanging out with her friends.

Unlike her younger years of boarding, Y/n hadn’t been home from school on the weekend in a long while. She couldn’t; especially with her exams quickly approaching, she was in her dorm studying and revising most weekends.

This meant the youngest Norris hadn’t seen her family in a few weeks. Of course she had spoken to them but hadn’t been home since the end of January, and they all understood why. It was harder for some to swallow that pill - well harder for one person particularly e.g Lando.

The Silverstone grand-prix was just around the corner and all he wanted was for his youngest sister to be there. Yeah it was selfish but he missed her, to be far the last time the two saw each other was early January. He missed her so much.

“Are you sure you can’t just take the exam early and then come and support me?” His rough voice rang through Y/n's phone whilst she was highlighting her revision. Lando wasn’t even trying to hide his annoyance.

A gentle laugh followed by a sigh was heard from Y/ns side of the call. “I’m sorry Lan…I can’t ask them to move the exam, it’s against the rules of the exam board…”

She didn’t have an exam that week actually, she was lying. Y/n was going to be in Silverstone that sunday. It’s just that Lando didn’t know, oh no it was a surprise.

What he thought was happening was that everyone else from his immediate family would be there, except Y/n.

Everyone was in on the surprise. All excited to see the pair reunited. Surprises were always one of the things the Norris family loved to do.

Y/n - Good luck today! I’ll be juggling revision and watching the race, I hope to hear our national anthem pleaseee Lando - Thank you angel, don’t wear yourself out Y/n - I should tell you the same thing

Lando thought she’d be tucked away in her dorm room whilst they were texting back and forth. A vast contrast to her current location; in the passenger seat of Oliver's car. The sun was shining through the windshield and down over her bare knees.

Y/n was wearing a white summer dress, some comfortable trainers and her signed mclaren 4 cap. Looking ready to spend the day in the British summer sun supporting one of her older brothers.

She was smirking. He really had no clue about this. “Okay so he thinks I’m still at school, oh my god I can’t wait!”

With her gcses, Y/n hadn’t been to a race in a long time and she missed it; watching from her dorm was not the same. In her dorm, she didn’t get that real excitement that would course through her like it would in the McLaren garage.

Looking over to Oliver, he was also smirking. Just remembering how he had to deal with Landos sulking and the clear signs that Y/n was by far his favorite. “Yeah he’s gonna be so happy when he sees you!”

Once they arrived, Y/n was quietly escorted through the back way to the McLaren garage. They couldn’t have the press ruining the surprise. Luckily for Y/n, her spot in the garage couldn’t be seen from anywhere Lando would be.

She stood between her parents whilst her other three siblings stood on either side Cisca and Adam. “I’m so excited!” When she was handed her headset, the girl got even more excited because she could hear her brother's voice through the radio.

He had yet to win his first grand prix and she hoped he would get to that top step of the podium, especially at his home race. And hopefully without him knowing she is here, he will focus on that exact outcome.

It was a hard race, lots of action and stress. Something Y/n liked, she hated a boring race - this sport was about racing, not riding cars in the same positions in several circles. But the most important thing to note from this race was the number four McLaren parked in front of the number one place in Parc Ferme.

The papaya garage was very much in celebrations, including the Norris family. Turning to face her mother with tears in her eyes, she noticed how Cisca also had tears in her eyes. “He did! He did!”

Adam, who is also over the moon with the win, takes her hand and starts to lead her over to the Parc Ferme to surprise the driver. Reaching the Parc Ferme they stand waiting amongst the McLaren staff and up against the barriers.

Lando pulls himself out of the car and makes his way to celebrate with his team. It’s only when he moves to give Adam a hug that he notices his little sister and he gasps.

“Y/n?” He can’t believe his eyes, he thought she was back in her boarding school revising.

Immediately the driver breaks from his father's embrace and races to collect Y/n in his arms. The two siblings were laughing and crying together. Finally reunited after a long time, in their opinions.

After a few seconds, Lando moves to collect her face in his hand gently - trying to see if his eyes are deceiving him, they weren’t. “I thought you had an exam!” He shouts over the cheers around the two of them.

Y/n just smirks cheekily and shakes her head. “Nope! Surprise!” Soon her smirk turns into a groan when Landos hand moves to mess up her hair, laughing breaking out between them once again.

Everyone saw. The cameras around Parc Ferme all broadcasting the reuniting of two siblings who just missed each other. “You’re such a little shit!”

Shrugging her shoulders, Y/n smiled. “Everyone was in on it! Our family loves a surprise!” So when Lando turned to look at his father, Adam just nodded - Happy to reunite two of his children.

#formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #lando norris x sister!reader #lando norris x sister #mclaren formula 1 #f1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #formula one x y/n

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jelloapocalypse · 9 months ago

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Hi! I guess it’s ask time? Just wanted to say I think you’re one of the funniest people on YouTube; I have a playlist called ‘Emergency Funny’ and like half of it is just your videos.

I’m wondering, when you’re cold-reading a line, like in those streams of voice acting a video game while playing it, what are the small details, if any, that you look to to figure out how to read the line? I’m continually amazed how you manage to have near perfect delivery while never having read the line before. Sorry if this is worded confusingly I legit don’t know how to phrase it

This was sent months ago, but it's actually a very good question and talking about this might help people who like to voice games on stream get better at doing that.

For context, this is about our "fully-voiced" game playthroughs where we cold read an entire video game out loud.

One small thing I try to do that helps is pressing the "advance dialogue button" when the person speaking is about 65-70% of the way through their line. That way, if the next line is from the same character the actor has a chance to read it smoothly as though the lines were not separated at all.

If it turns out to be a different actor's line, this gives the new actor more time to skim the words as well as extra time for them to realize they're about to be speaking so they don't get caught off guard.

Doing this is actually kind of hard because every actor we work with reads at a different pace and the person actually playing the game has to keep that in mind. Oz, Vixen, Arim, and I can sight read most lines almost instantly. I've seen Oz and Vixen in particular read entire text boxes that were only onscreen for a couple frames. But, obviously, not everyone is that fast, so everyone gets different "advance the dialogue" speeds.

Ideally, if a game is well-written and the characters you're playing have a strong voice, you'll slowly fade into the character as you read them. You begin to feel the things they're saying rather than just reading words on a page. Once you hit that flow state, it becomes easier to process what they might logically say next. If you notice one of us make 2-3 errors in the span of just a few lines, it means we're probably not in that flow state.

Some games are also much easier to scan than others, usually because of their character poses.

A game like In Stars and Time has such incredible character portraits that you can usually tell the tone of the accompanying line within a few frames of a portrait change.

Loop (above) is an extremely suspicious and weird character, but voicing them was so much fun because I could always rely on the portraits and the font changes in the text to give me direction on how to play them accurately, even though I didn't actually know what their deal was until about halfway through our playthrough.

Coffee Talk also has very strong portraits that react in real time to the lines of dialogue. The framing can push characters smaller or larger in focus depending on how upset or meek they are, so it's very easy to react on sight and adjust accordingly.

Every time a game developer takes the time to painstakingly add portraits that match every single line, every time they add SFX to accentuate certain words, every time a font wiggles to tell you someone is speaking in a sing-songy way, that's all direction that the game's creators are giving you.

Another thing that helps is just media literacy. I think everyone on the channel is pretty good at that because, speaking frankly, I don't like hanging out with people who have bad media literacy, lmao.

The more media you consume, the easier it becomes to know how a story is going to go. Even a really well-written mystery usually has only 3-5 real options for an ending, and while you're reading games aloud it's a good practice to consider all of them equally so your reads make sense no matter what. You'll notice it's pretty rare something takes us entirely by surprise in a read-through.

Also, of note, it's much easier to notice specific foreshadowing and word choice in dialogue when you're reading it aloud as opposed to silently skimming.

A solid example is our fully-voiced playthrough of Trails From Zero, which actually happened on SurpriseRoundRPG a few years back and not my own Twitch or YouTube.

Minor spoilers, but the character above, Ernest, has some antagonistic interactions with your main party over the course of this game. He wants Ellie, the white-haired party member, to quit the police force (that's your group) and go back to working with him in the Mayor's office.

When Arim played this game solo he didn't really think much of this guy. However, when he played the game for us and we read it out loud, having lines like the one pictured above spoken aloud makes it kind of impossible not to notice that this man is a freak. Mo, his VA, ended up playing him as a manosphere incel weirdo because that's the vibe he was putting out, and, lo and behold, that's pretty much exactly the character he turned out to be.

There's a running theme on our channel where commenters are often surprised to see the game "play into our bits" and how we "accidentally predict things".

What's really happening is the reverse.

It's very, very rare that we decide to make up a bit from absolutely nothing. It's not a hard and fast rule, but I find we only make jokes and play up aspects of characters based on things that are already there. Hence that one time in Miles is a Robot when I said something awful and sexual as Ray Shields, Oz groaned, and I said "Hey man, I'll give him a different joke when the game gives me somethin' else to work with!" I didn't choose to make Ray awful and sexual all the time. That's just how he is, so that's the well we pulled bits from.

Because we only extrapolate from existing content and our "silly" versions of the characters onscreen are just exaggerated versions of what's really there, whenever the game gives us more info about them, the new stuff tends to be very in-line with the bits we've already been doing. It's not us being psychic. It's us being consistent!

It also helps that almost all the regulars on my channel have done professional voice work and have been doing some version of this for literally 10+ years. Practice makes perfect!

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swaps55 · 2 months ago

Text

Run-On vs. Long Sentences

We love our long sentences on tumblr, right?

Long sentences, short sentences: any length sentence is a tool in your writer's toolbox. Don't let someone tell you that one is bad and another is good. They all have their place, and all can be used for good (and for evil). It all depends on the job a sentence needs to do.

But I have seen people conflating long sentences with run-on sentences, and those are distinctly different things.

A long sentence is just a sentence that is long. It can be full of commas, conjunctions, em dashes, semi-colons, etc. etc.

A run-on sentence is very specifically two independent clauses (or two complete sentences) that are incorrectly joined together. For example:

A long sentence is just a sentence that is long it can be full of commas, conjunctions, em dashes, semi-colons, etc. etc.

The missing period between "long" and "it" to separate it into two, complete sentences is what makes it a run-on. A comma is not sufficient to join two independent clauses; it just creates a comma splice:

A comma is not sufficient to join two independent clauses, it just creates a comma splice.

These can sometimes be a little harder to spot because there is punctuation there that gives you a place to pause and catch your breath so the sentence doesn't run off without you. But because the clauses on either side of that comma are independent (a complete sentence), you need to diversify your punctuation on beyond the mere comma. Your best pal the semicolon is over there waving its arms begging to get put in the game (though you have other options, too). Conjunctions are another tool for joining two independent clauses together in holy matrimony or whatever.

Why should you avoid run-on sentences?

They get confusing it's easy to lose your reader when your sentences run together you can write long sentences without roadblocks that frustrate your reader in fact, the example I saw that prompted this post was someone claiming to have written a run-on sentence when in fact what they had crafted was a well-punctuated long sentence that wasn't confusing because it understood where to pause and let the reader catch up.

Did that hurt your brain a little? How about this?

They get confusing. It's easy to lose your reader when your sentences run together. You can write long sentences without roadblocks that frustrate your reader. In fact, the example I saw that prompted this post was someone claiming to have written a run-on sentence when in fact what they had crafted was a well-punctuated long sentence that wasn't confusing - because it understood where to pause and let the reader catch up.

Why - or when - should you use a run-on sentence anyway?

When it's the right tool for the job. But part of knowing when it's the right tool is understanding when it's the wrong one.

Long sentences aren't a sin unless you make them sinful. Go forth and be a master of long sentences if that is what makes your heart happy. But I hope you will do so with the understanding that run-on sentences are a very different thing, and knowing the difference can save a writer and a reader.

#how writing is written #long sentences #run on sentences #anyway i needed to get that out of my system

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rpmemes-galore · 2 months ago

Text

the last of us (game) ... sentence starters

"Endure and survive."

"Holy shit. She's infected."

"There is no other choice here."

"You have no idea what loss is."

"You listen to me, you little shit…"

"Come on. Make this easy for me."

"Yeah, well, I was trying to kill you."

"No, fuck you! You handcuffed me!"

"How is it that you're never scared?"

"I shot the hell out of that guy, huh?!"

"But, man… you can't deny that view."

"And we are going our separate ways."

"We're not murderers. We just survive."

"I will not turn into one of those things."

"It's called luck, and it is gonna run out."

"Well, is that everything you hoped for?"

"You're lucky you're still drawing breath."

"What are we doing here? This is not us."

"It can't be any worse out there… can it?"

"They sacrifice the few to save the many."

"What do you know about us? About me?"

"Yeah, I thought you were one of them, too."

"Just take it easy. Drugs are still wearing off."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit."

"That was plan A, B, C, all the way to fuckin' Z!"

"You're treading on some mighty thin ice here."

"Oh, baby girl. It's okay. It's okay. It's okay now."

"You're gonna be really happy you didn't kill me."

"I'm sure your 'friend' will be missing this tonight."

"(name) saw the world one way, I saw it the other."

"I'm… I'm not going anywhere. This is my last stop."

"I'm exhausted and I just want this to end… So be it."

"Well, I ain't leavin' without you. Let's go wrap this up."

"Ssh, ssh! It's okay! It's me, it's me! Look, look. It's me."

"No, no, no, that was your crusade, I'm not doing that."

"Admit that you wanted to get rid of me the whole time."

"I'm glad I didn't get my head blown off by a goddamn kid."

"Hearing them talk, it's good to know they're scared of you."

"Swear to me. Swear to me that everything you said is true."

"Well, I guess we're both disappointed with each other then."

"This tunnel, you use it to smuggle things? Like, illegal things?"

"Focus right here, right here. Or I'll pop your goddamn knee off."

"Where are anyone's parents? They've been gone a long, long time."

"And just so we're clear about back there… It was either him or me."

"Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys."

"I'm just saying, I'm glad you're on my side. That was a compliment."

"You're right. You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad."

"The tests just keep getting harder and harder, don't they? I'm so tired."

"It's okay. I would've probably done the same thing. Where are you from?"

"People are making apocalypse jokes like there's no tomorrow… Too soon."

"They might still look like people, but that person is not in there anymore."

"Really? Guess what, we're shitty people. It's been that way for a long time."

"I lost most of my crew crossing the country. I pretty much lost everything."

"I guess no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your past. Thank you."

"After all we've been through. Everything that I've done. It can't be for nothing."

"Listen to me: if I get in trouble down there, you make every shot count. Yeah?"

"Look, there's enough here that you have to feel some sort of obligation to me."

"I believe his last words to me were 'I don't ever want to see your goddamn face again'."

"I hate to interrupt your little biology lesson, but can we get the fuck out of here? Please?"

"I dedicated my life to this cause and… now I won't get to see whether we make it or not."

"I…. can't imagine losing someone you love like that. Losing everything that you know."

"And then you show up and somehow we find you just in time to save her. Maybe it was meant to be."

"I'm gettin' you outta here, baby girl. I got you. I got you. Come on. We're okay… we're okay… we're okay…"

"You know, as bad as those things are, at least they're predictable. It's the normal people that scare me."

"I get it. But whatever it is you think you're going through right now is nothing to what I have been through."

"I struggled for a long time with surviving. And you... no matter what, you keep finding something to fight for."

"Is this really all they had to worry about? Boys, movies… deciding which shirt goes with which skirt? It's bizarre."

"Do you even realize what your life means? Huh? Running off like that, putting yourself at risk — it's pretty goddamn stupid."

"You wanna know the best thing about my job? I don't gotta know why. Be honest with you, I could give two shits what you're up to."

"What if the people are still inside? What if they're trapped in there, without any control of their body? I'm scared of that happening to me."

"Yeah, everyone barricaded themselves in their homes. Then supplies started runnin' low. That's when you saw what people are really capable of."

"You know what? No. How about 'Hey, I know it wasn't easy, but it was either him or me, thanks for saving my ass'… You got anything like that for me?"

"And in this world, that sort of shit's good for one thing — gettin' ya killed. So you know what I did? I wisened the fuck up. And I realized it's gotta be just me."

"Everyone I have cared for has either died, or left me. Everyone—fucking except for you! So don't tell me I would be safer with somebody else, because the truth is, I would just be more scared."

#tlou quotes #rp meme #sentence starters

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cherryswisherz · 8 months ago

Text

SECRETS AND FAILED PLANS

♱ CONTAINS: fluff sexual innuendo

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: based on this req

"you're my little secret, and thats how we should keep it. we should never let them know, never let it show. if you know, like i know, we should never let it go"

your my little secret (xscape, 1998)

♱♱♱♱

if you asked azzi fudd about her relationship with paige bueckers, she would tell you that they'd known each other since high school. that they'd started as rivals and became frenemies and later, in college, best friends. she'd say that she loves playing basketball with paige because she knows her game like the back of her hand. azzi would tell you that paige is her oldest and closest friend.

if you asked paige bueckers about her relationship with azzi fudd, she wouldn't tell you that they'd known each other in the most biblical of terms. that a simple game of 2 truths and a lie had changed the trajectory of their lives. she wouldn't say that she sleeps the best in azzi's arms. paige wouldn't tell you that azzi is her girlfriend and had been for seven years.

paige and azzi were basketballs best kept secret.

they didn't have the novelty of soft or hard launches. instead, they kept the photographic evidence of their love safe in the confines of their 'my eyes only' folder.

they didn't get to make possessive gestures, like necklaces with eachother intials, or hidden tattoos. instead they wore rings that the other had gotten them, and when asked about it, they simply said 'i forgot where i got this from.'

they didn't own the privilege of PDA. for them, there was no making out in bars, or holding hands as they walked down the street. instead, they made do with a subtle lean in the others direction or the occasional risky level of eye contact.

was this an ideal situation for two young women in love? of course not. paige and azzi would love to suck face in front of the world, or tattoo each others initials on their ribcage, or something equally cheesy and romantic and vile to single people.

but it was just too complicated and messy. the questions and politics that came with dating another college basketball player, let alone you teammate, wasn't something that the couple was willing to go through. they realized this as soon as paige had graduated high school and had a surprisingly mature conversation about the terms of their relationship. they knew they wanted to be together, but they didn't want the sanctity of their bond to be tarnished by the media.

so they made a deal. keep it a secret until azzi graduated college and when they'd both gotten drafted, they would announce their relationship and get engaged and live happily ever after.

that was the plan.

and they'd done a damn good job at following the plan if you asked me. no one knew about them, except their immediate families. no teammates, no coaches, no friends, no media team members, no anything. everyone thought the pair were merely close friends.

of course this wasn't an easy thing to facade to keep up with. there were plenty of incidents where the true nature of their relationship was revealed.

aubrey griffin had once heard them through the wall separating her and paige's bedrooms and then next day, when she inquired about the moans and groans she'd heard coming from her teammates room, paige only shrugged and said she couldn't remember her one night stands name.

one night, nika muhl, being the observant woman she is, notice paige's earrings in ahotel room that she and azzi shared and when she'd asked azzi about it, azzi lied through her teeth and explained that paige had let her borrow the earrings the night prior.

through all of the trials and tribulations of maintaining the confidentiality of their relationship, paige and azzi had always maintained true to each other. they never got frustrated with each other when a slip up occurred, never placed blame or made the other feel bad. they simply focused on damage control and went about their lives.

with all this being said, even the most careful people can't hide forever.

as the twosome stared in paiges bathroom mirror, a pit formed in both of their stomachs. splayed across paige's collarbone was a bruise.

well...

not so much a bruise as it was a hickey.

you see, the night before was the couples anniversary and apparently, ms. fudd had gotten carried away while expressing her undying affection for her lover.

paige and azzi spent the next 30 minutes perfecting the color correcting/concealer routine needed to hide the mark. they'd done well, except they hadn't thought of the technicalities.

today was uconn women's basketball teams exhibition game against fort hays, and of course the face of uconn wbb bound to play at 150%. leaving her sweaty and gross.

in all honesty, paige thought nothing of it when she threw the towel around her neck and began aimlessly wiping her chest in an attempt to rid herself of that swampy feeling. no one really did. they knew this was routine for players after leaving their souls on the floor.

it wasn't until after the team had returned to the locker room and celebrated their win that a certain curious sophomore noticed the blemish on paiges pale skin.

"oooouuu p boogers, who's been freakin on you?" kamorea teased, smacking the blonde with her towel. all eyes were now on #5

paiges willed her eyes to refrain from finding azzis, knowing that would be a dead giveaway.

"man kk, chill!" she'd tried to laugh it off, play into the teams preconceived notion that paige was a player. "you know i don't kiss and tell."

it was no use though, because kamorea was going to keep up her antics until she'd gotten the truth.

but paige and azzi had worked to hard to protect their secret and paige wasn't about to let seven years go down the drain so easily.

so she answered all of her younger teammates questions as vaguely as possible. simple yes/no replies and whatnot.

finally, kamorea had gotten tired of paige's games and went to her next best source:

paiges oldest and closest friend.

"azzi poo! you have to tell me who was sucking on paige last night." in the process of asking her question, kamorea grabbed azzis bicep, eliciting a wince.

of course, young kamorea noticed the reaction and looked down, only to see azzi had aqquired a few bruises of her own. two angry purple marks had formed on the girls bicep and shoulder.

azzi didn't play in the game, so she couldn't have been fouled.... azzi and paige slept in the same room...

the gears began turning in kamoreas head and as the newfound detective put two and two together, paige's eyes had finally met azzis, knowing that they'd been found out.

"OH MY GOSHHHH" kamorea began jumping around like a lunatic. "PAZZI IS REAL!"

and just like that, five years of careful sneaking around had been undone by a nosy nineteen year old.

the locker room erupted into cheers and the couple was swarmed with questions about how long this had been going on, why didn't they say anything, and so on, so forth. azzi followed paiges lead on being honest about the whole thing, but still being as vague as possible.

after the chaos had settled, paige explained to her team that they had to keep it under wraps for the sake of their relationship. she broke down the plan they'd formed so many years ago and begged for their understanding, which of course, she received without the blink of an eye.

and at the end of that day, azzi and paige fell asleep in each others arms, like they'd done so many times. only this time, they were on the couch of the home they shared with their teammates.

this time, they weren't worried about who would see what, they weren't worried about pictures being posted in an attempt to embarrass them.

this time, they knew they were safe, and not alone in each others company.

♱TAGLIST: @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @janaelalfysblunt

@mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @authentic-girl03 @pb524830

#niyahspeaks #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #uconn #aubrey griffin #paige bueckers fic #wcbb #kk arnold #azzi fudd #pazzi

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kcwriter-blog · 11 months ago

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I've been thinking about how we the players know so little about Solas compared to what the writers and developers know about him and how that affects the way he is written.

I mean we know he is an ancient elf. We know he was powerful enough and skilled enough to create the Veil. We know he and Mythal were friends. He doesn't seem to have liked Andruil and Falon'Din much. Skyhold belonged to him. He removed vallislin. He tried to free slaves. He had kind of an underground railroad thing going. He seems to have had a lot of money secreted away. He painted even back in Arlathan. A lot of statues seem to have been made of him. People in the Vir Dirthara knew he created the Veil but were surprised that he would do something like that. He seems to have always had an affinity for the Fade and spirits. He enjoyed whatever version of the Game nobles in Arlathan played. He was cocky and hot blooded, always spoiling for a fight. He is capable of love and friendship.

I think that's all and it really isn't much. Everything else anyone says about him is pure speculation. It makes meta fun but its easy to get too caught up in our own ideas.

We speculate about him based on things we learn from his personal quests and what we see in Trespasser but we don't know anything for sure. Was he a slave? Was he a spirit called out of the Fade by Mythal and given a body? Did he manifest a body like Cole? Was he just a normal elf born in a small village to the north? Was he a noble and privileged or did he work his way up? Did he join the fight against the Titans? Was he a genius who theorized that the waking world and Fade could be separated? Did he use untried magic because his back was against the wall and he couldn't think of any other way to save the world? Was he a friend of the Evanuris so they trusted him enough to fall into his trap? Was he one of them?

So many questions. The writers have tried to portray him sympathetically. They want us to empathize with him. And I have to ask myself why? He is one of the antagonists. Wouldn't it be easier to portray him as not having any redeeming qualities? And yet, he is basically described as the hero who lived long enough to become the villain.

I know his detractors believe he is a genocidal, racist maniac but that doesn’t track with everything we learn about him as high approval or romanced Inquisitors. It certainly isn’t born out by his statement that he is doing his best to minimize the damage.

He truly believes what he is doing is best for the world and is willing to break it and remake it. What does he know? But more importantly, what do the writers know? Fen' Harel has existed since Origins. Devs have always planned for him to make an appearance. That means the valleslin has always been a mark of slavery even if the Dalish didn't know. The Creators have always been horrible, slave owners even if the Dalish don't remember. Which means Solas has always been the rebel fighting for what he believes is right.

Why do the writers see him not so much as the villain (although Epler uses that word constantly - he is usually the only one though) as they do a somewhat noble person who keeps making mistakes? Why is he portrayed as just a sad man who can't see past his regret and guilt. What was he like? What changed him? What did he know about the Veil before he put it up?

I get that a lot of people don't like the idea of being tied to him in Veilguard but maybe the writers did that so we have no choice but to get to know him - the good and the bad. Maybe we finally get to know Solas the way the writers and developers know him. I'm looking forward to that.

#solas #dragon age #solavellan #solasmance #fen'harel #solas dragon age #solas dread wolf #dai solas #solas meta #dragon age meta #da meta #evanuris #mythal #dragon age theory

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youlikegoodstuff · 8 months ago

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Their anniversary (prologue)

All Might x arch nemesis! reader

Gender is neutral here. Reader is a villain called Highland Havoc

Summary: it’s All Might’s and his nemesis’s anniversary, and the fans are done waiting for the villain and hero duo to kiss.

Tw: none. Just a tensions and shipping. Swear words. Stolen stop signs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It Is Fine Now. Why? Because I Am Here!”

As always, All Might made a dramatic and enthusiastic entrance, even after years of duking it out with you.

“Took you long enough. You’re usually very early to our anniversary.” You said with a smirk on your half-masked face.

All Might’s signature smile only widened at this as his hidden eyes took on a slight mischievous look.

“My apologies, my arch nemesis! Allow me to make it up to you by making a special reservation for you in jail!” He said rather lightheartedly.

The bystanders who chose to stay looked on in anticipation, ready for an absolutely glorious battle like the ones before.

“Oh no worries! You don’t gotta make it up to me.” You said with a wicked grin before launching yourself at the man.

If it was anyone else, they wouldn’t last a second in the presence of All Might. Hell, he’d have them in front of a police station by now…

But you weren’t All Might’s arch nemesis for nothing.

Highland Havoc was the name, and causing havoc is your game.

Accurate to your villain name, you created chaos with your strength-based quirk, destroying government buildings, totaling police cars, tearing out parking meters, and stealing stop signs.

One thing that separated you from the rest of the villains wasn’t just your ability to rival All-fucking-Might, but your surprisingly noble morals.

You weren’t destroying small businesses or killing people, in fact, you’ve saved people on several occasions.

You were basically a professional villainess with standards.

You were a bad guy… but not a bad guy…

The worst you did was wreck a couple hero office buildings and steal thousands of stop signs, but you never ever stole candy from a baby.

In other words, you were just a cheeky little cunt.

You were a menace… but you were Musutafu’s favorite menace.

You casually tore out a stop sign that sat on the corner of the street (one that recently replaced the old one after you stole it) and placed it on your shoulders while smirking through your mask.

“So, what’s on the agenda today? You failing for the millionth time to land a good hit on me?” You teased.

All Might chuckled heartily, but he felt the same thrill coursing through his veins that he always felt when he was ready to fight you.

“I do hate to burst your bubble, my dear,” he began, using a nickname to tease you right back. “But I’m not about to go easy on you just because it’s our anniversary.”

“Oh I don’t expect you to hold back, I’ve been waiting for the opposite actually~” You said before lifting the newly acquired stop sign and twirled it expertly in your hand.

All Might’s eyes followed your every movement like a hawk. He never took his eyes off you these days when you were facing each other, and for good reason: you were not to be underestimated. He knew better than that.

“Still got that nasty habit of collecting those silly signs, I see.” He said with that signature smile as he flexed his thick muscles, getting ready for your first attack.

“You call them silly, but the city seems to take stop sign theft very seriously.” You said while getting into your own fighting position.

All Might scoffed as he rolled his shoulders to loosen up his muscles even more.

“And rightly so! Stop signs are important, you know.” He scolded before looking you up and down with a scoff “And that mask of yours is still downright hideous. How can you handle wearing that thing?”

“You and your issues with my mask. Always having a problem with it, lad.” You sighed and rolled your (e/c) eyes.

All Might looked around the city in feigned disbelief, as if searching for a nonexistent culprit.

”And whose fault is that?” He said, glancing at you again with a smirk. “If you just took the damn thing off, I wouldn’t complain all the time. Your face is probably the only nice part of you, but I have yet to confirm that.”

“Oh shush, you just want to be able to identify me so the coppers can hunt me down.” You said with a scoff.

All Might crossed his large arms over his built chest and let out a huff.

“Now that is the last thing I want, my dear.” He retorted, his smile faltering for a moment before a mischievous grin took over. “You’re my favorite villain to wrangle; I’d be devastated if you were taken off the streets.”

The bystanders who stayed to watch were getting restless, excited, or annoyed at the two…

All Might, the #1 hero who has been the world’s symbol of peace for years; and you: #1 super villain in the country and top ranked pain in All Might’s ass, has not once made any moves on each other.

Many years of rivalry… and their OTP still haven’t made a move on eachother…

…And it was driving the tabloids and the media batshit insane.

People were dying to know what was going on with the two, and for those who had that gut feeling, it was absolute torture for the hero/villain duo to not just fuck each other already.

Who would’ve thought the hero and villain would end up in a tango of sexual tension that lasted 15 years?

“Just kiss already!”

One guy in the gathered audience yelled loudly, saying what no one else dared to say.

All Might and you immediately both stopped what you were doing and looked over at the random citizen. You both had that “deer in headlights” look, and even with half of your face covered, the surprise on your face was obvious.

All Might actually went a shade of pink in the face.

The hero finally turned to the civilian. “S-Sir! This is a-ah-a battle! That would… be highly inappropriate in such an important moment!” He said firmly, but he looked so flustered.

“You have very interesting fans, All Might...” You muttered, glancing away from the hero.

“They’re your fans too.” All Might bickered.

Before he could retort against you, the same obnoxious idiot spoke up again.

“Maybe you two should just cut the bullshit and make out already!” He said, and several cheers came from the small crowd of onlookers.

All Might’s face went red again and he began to stammer. He was starting to get flustered by the comments. He tried to gather himself quickly, and he turned to the crowd again.

“T-This is not a performance! We’re not some dance for your e-entertainment! You people should take this seriously!” All Might protested, but the comments were getting to him.

More hollering and cat calling stirred from the audience; some were even chanting a ship name for you two.

You just deadpanned… but you were admittedly a bit amused.

“…you wanna just start the fight? Can’t really hear them over us throwing punches.” You suggested.

All Might looked back at you, a slight look of relief on his face.

“Y-Yes, an excellent idea! We’re wasting time here!” He said, flexing his arms and getting back into his battle stance.

The hero was trying desperately to ignore the chants and the cheers and whistles from the audience, which was only making him more and more flustered.

Even after 15 years, All Might was never bored of battling you. He was expecting your attack and was ready for you when you ran at him. He was also relieved that he didn’t have to listen to those insufferable comments for another second.

To add to that, Even though the crowd really, really wanted you two to finally French kiss, they weren’t disappointed when it came to you both fighting. For now, they didn’t try to push you two… for now.

You immediately launched yourself forward, leaving a small crater behind you. At the last moment, he sidestepped your attack and aimed a punch directly at your ribs.

You placed your free hand in front of your ribs and grabbed his fist as he unintentionally swung you around. Once you jumped away from him, you swung the stop sign at his head.

The man quickly blocked the blow with his massive forearm and pushed the sign away.

He wasn’t just going to accept any injury without at least putting up a fight. He was itching to actually land a solid hit on you, which was a challenge due to your strength and agility.

He took the opportunity whilst your stop sign was pushed away to aim a kick at your side.

All Might cringed inwardly when you were sent through a wall. He really was dreading the paperwork… Technically, you destroyed that building, he’s just doing his duty.

…Also, you had a tendency to let him strike on purpose so he could indirectly damage buildings *cough* *cough*-

As you were recovering from that kick and standing at the edge of the hole you left, the people in the audience were whistling and hollering at you two.

All Might stared up at you with a scoff before marching over to the new hole in the wall.

“Damnit, why didn’t you dodge???” He almost whined.

You chuckled as you placed your stop sign on your shoulder and jumped down, landing in front of him with a deep thud.

“C’mon… you know why~” You said cheekily.

Despite the mask covering your lower face, he could tell you were smiling.

He let out an aggravated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his signature smile up through gritted teeth.

“You’re terrible.” He muttered.

In the background, some of the more overbearing and blunt All Might and Highland Havoc fans in the crowd started shouting again.

“Get a room already!”

“The damn sexual tension is more thick than Midnight!”

All Might was blushing furiously, trying to tilt his face away from anyone’s sight.

‘If I hear one more comment from these people…’ he thought to himself, keeping up that friendly All Might front for his fans and for himself.

Unfortunately, he was interrupted by another loud comment.

“Stop being pussies and kiss already!!” A more blunt and shameless fangirl yelled from the crowd.

All Might looked at his nemesis with a strained smile on his face.

You… You just deadpanned.

“…I’m just going to swing this at your durable head, is that okay?” You asked plainly yet genuinely, holding up your stop sign to show off your weapon of choice.

All Might let go of his restraint and rubbed the bridge of his nose again.

“That is absolutely fine.” He replied in annoyance before pulling his hand away to look at you. “In fact, could you please hit me in the face? I’d rather we got serious.”

Just then, another shrill female voice cried, “Oh come on, a kiss would be soooo much better tho-“

All Might gritted his teeth and interrupted. “Please, random citizen, I’m trying to concentrate!!”

Unfortunately, because All Might lost concentration, you took this chance to slam the sign part of the stop sign into his face.

He took the hit like a champ and stumbled back, but it didn’t knock him down, just caused him to fumble with his massive feet until he got his footing again.

He clutched his now throbbing cheek and winced.

’Note to self: keep your focus from now on.’ All Might thought to himself as he righted himself.

He smirked through the pain and glared over at you again.

“…You’re going to pay for that.” He said.

Instead of trembling in fear, you simply blinked in surprise, amazed that you actually nailed him in the face with the metal sheet so easily, before looking at the stop sign.

Your shock quickly turned into amusement after you did a double take.

“Oh my God!” You laughed from amusement and shock as you stared at the imprint of All Might’s face in the stop sign.

All Might’s glare and smirk dropped for a moment, instead looking at her with a bewildered look before following her gaze to the sign.

When he saw the All Might face-shaped imprint, he actually snorted.

The fans in the background were cheering and hollering at the scene unfolding on the battlefield between their favorite number one hero and number one villain.

You continued laughing while leaning onto the pole of the stop sign for support.

It wasn’t even one of those taunting laughs he always heard from you, it was one of those rare, genuine ones.

The hoarse sound of your laughter was so unbelievably beautiful to his ears…

In all the years he’d known you, he rarely ever heard a genuine laugh, a guffaw or an eruption of amused cackling. He always thought you were a snickering or a scoffing type.

…In all honesty, the sound of your laugh was almost more damaging than a stop sign to his face.

“I actually managed to immortalize that face you made into the sign! Definitely going into my stop sign collection!” You laughed out, wiping a tear from your eye.

Your comment luckily broke him out of his smiling stupor.

“H-Hey, I do not make that kind of face during battle…”

“The sign says otherwise.” You said while getting control of your laughter.

All Might’s face was slightly flushed as he internally pouted at you but still kept his signature smile on.

“Well… that’s obviously not my normal look!” He protested before turning to a more playful tone.

“…Though you must admit, that is a lovely face, even imprinted into a sign like that. I can see why you’d want to keep it, Havoc.” He said with a cheeky lilt to his tone, trying to tease you back.

You smirked and brought the dented part down to your face to study it.

“…actually, you’re right… even caught that beautiful jawline of yours.” You said before lifting your free hand up to tug at your mask.

You pulled the mask down, and for the first time in 15 years, you exposed your lower face to All Might and the crowd.

All Might’s eyes went the size of saucers.

He was finally getting to see your face. He had been yearning to know what you looked like beneath that hideous mask of yours for years.

A little part of him had hoped you would unveil yourself to him in battle for years, yet here you were actually doing it, Freezing the hero from disbelief and awe.

The audience had gone dead silent at the sight of your revealed face, and more than one fan was filming the historic moment.

… and It was about to get more historical… cuz you lifted the All Might face dent and gave it a little kiss before lifting the mask back over your lower face.

It was almost like a scene from a film, except it wasn’t scripted at all.

All Might’s jaw had dropped to the floor the moment you kissed the imprint, but the realization of what had just happened didn’t sink in until your mask was over your face again.

Everyone in the audience was stunned, and for a moment, no one uttered a breath. The silence was so loud, you could hear a pen hit the ground.

Then the crowd roared.

The collective roar and screams of the audience were deafening, and they rang in the ears of both the hero and the villain.

All Might was still staring at you in disbelief, a bright red blush spreading over his face.

As was expected of people who were witnessing such a sight, the fans had their phones out and were taking pictures at record speed. One or two people were actually full on crying with tears of joy.

You stared back at All Might with an amused and mischievous look in your eye as the crowd and potentially the whole world were collectively losing their mind.

All Might tried desperately to find words to say, but he was so stunned that he couldn’t even process his thoughts.

The hero’s brain had short circuited and his jaw was hanging open. All he could do was gape at you while the people in the background were gushing and crying and screaming about a number one ship in history being finally confirmed.

But then, he quickly realized that he was just standing there like a fish out of water, and there are cameras surrounding both of them, filming the whole scene.

He quickly schooled his features and placed his hands on his hips and lifted his head.

“O-OKAY, LET’S BE CALM ABOUT THIS!” he bellowed, but the fans were still making sounds like they just won the lottery.

At this, he groaned in frustration and pinched the bridge of his nose again.

He didn’t know what to do anymore. This was the worst. The fans are going to make this moment in history live on forever.

He finally removed his hand from his face and shot you a look.

“You did that on purpose….” he muttered to you.

“Oh did I?” You asked innocently while holding a dark gloved hand up to your masked face and kicking a foot up behind you.

All Might squinted his eyes at you in annoyance.

“Don’t give me that, you knew exactly what you were doing…” He grumbled.

The audience was still going berserk, cameras were flashing from all sides. The former hero was just so over it at this point.

You snickered like a little vixen while still holding your hand to your masked face. He was slowly getting more and more irritated at how amused you looked.

“…Why did you even do that!?” He demanded with a shaky tone.

The crowd was still hooting and whistling in the background, but All Might didn’t care, his focus was completely on you.

You simply shrugged.

“Sorry, my dear~” you purred out, using the pet name he used for you using your strength-based quirk to jump off to somewhere else, leaving All Might to deal with the damaged building and the crowd of shocked and excited bystanders… and a news helicopter.

All Might was so too caught off guard by his own pet-name being used against him that he forgot to give chase to you.

He eventually came to his senses and whipped around to search for you in the sky, but you were long gone by now.

Groaning and pinching his nose for the 5th… 6th time? 10th? The hero turned back to the aftermath of the confrontation and was immediately bombarded by the fans who were clambering around him.

That night…

Yagi Toshinori *hated* paperwork.

At this point, he was used to doing excessive amounts of paperwork, so he was able to get through it all rather quickly.

But today’s paperwork involved the entire incident that had occurred between you and him. His hands were cramping up from signing forms and writing down details of your little escapade.

He was just scribbling away as the TV played in the background, playing today’s news. And of course, the entire day’s events featured heavily on tonight’s broadcast.

Yagi lifted his head to take a break and watch the replay of the confrontation on the newscast. Once again, he was met with seeing himself standing on the battlefield with his jaw on the floor as cameras captured your little… display.

Immediately, he groaned and put his head down on the desk with a thump, mumbling into the wood.

“I actually can’t believe it, she really just made it known to everyone!” The news reporter said a little too excitedly for someone who’s supposed to be unbiased.

The news reporter had obviously been waiting for this moment her whole career. She was acting like a fangirl, which in a way, was very realistic of her since many people would react the exact same way.

“Who would’ve ever thought that the number one hero or number one villain would actually have some kind of affection for each other? Could it even be love?”

Toshinori was just sitting there, face on the desk, listening to the broadcast as his now deflated, fluffy hair draped over his desk.

The news reporters continued to talk about what had happened, but something said by the man reporter caught his attention.

”It’s been 15 years, today marking the 15th anniversary of All Might’s and Highland Havoc’s rivalry… it’s about damn time.” The older news reporter, a 50 year old man, said.

“Daikaku, you shouldn’t swear, we’re on live tv.” The younger news reporter said with a hint of worry.

But All Might didn’t focus on that…

15 years. 15 years of you being his nemesis…

He hadn’t even realized that it had already been that long. And he hadn’t realized that he had feelings for you for 90% of that time… that was… a really long time.

The news broadcaster interrupted the former heroes thoughts when the subject was changed to an All Might fan.

“Let’s listen now to what the fans have to say about the incident that unfolded in today’s fight.”

All Might groaned when he heard that. He just knew the first fan they were going to show was going to be an overly obsessed and delusional fan. And of course, that is exactly what he got.

“I CALLED IT! I KNEW the two of them have been dating in secret for YEARS!!” The first fan cried out through one of the speakers of the call, clearly a child.

All Might was so over it. He wanted to bang his head on the desk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes. That fan at the end is 100% Midoriya.

This takes place 3 years before All Might meets Midoriya, which means he’s 11 and All Might is 46.

Let me know how well I did and if you’d like more 👍👍👍👍

…or don’t. I’m planning on making a lil series anyways, like it or not.

#mha x reader #mha #all might #yagi toshinori #toshinori yagi x reader #all might x reader #y/n #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n

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etaleah · 3 months ago

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Rating Shadow the Hedgehog’s Chest Fluff in (Almost) All of His Appearances: a Journey

One of my favorite parts of Shadow’s design is the white chest fluff, so I shall now set out to rate the appearance of it in every piece of media he’s appeared in. A few games are missing because I couldn’t find good photos that I could be sure were official, but I included as many as I could. Ratings shall be determined by size, shape, and fluffiness. Emphasis on fluffiness.

Here we go!

Sonic Adventure 2 (Battle)

Hmm, okay, not bad, but not as good as it would later be. You can tell this was Shadow’s first appearance because his stomach is giving off mpreg vibes with how round it is. This chest fluff is a lovely shape, but the edges look a bit sharp and it’s a little light on the fluffy side. But it’s the first one, so I’ll be lenient. Solid 8/10 for a first impression.

Sonic Heroes

This game was actually tough to rate because Shadow spends so much of it with his arms crossed. EXPOSE YOUR FLUFF, HEDGEHOG! *clears throat* Anyway, this one is still a nice shape but is even less fluffy and textured than SA2 was. It also looks sharp enough to cut your fingers off, which might be nice for Shadow but is certainly not to my taste. Downgrading to a 6/10 for no softness. At least he doesn’t look pregnant anymore.

Shadow the Hedgehog (2005)

WAY. TOO. POINTY. *shakes fist* That chest fluff looks hard, cold, and uninviting. It looks like a murder weapon. Maybe that’s what they were going for since Shadow dabbles in murder for this game, but I do not like it. 4/10 because at least the shape is nice and the size is about right.

HOWEVER, the fluff does improve dramatically in the more cinematic cutscenes. This here? 9/10 easy.

Sonic Battle

Well, the fluffiness has improved, but the size is wrong. It’s too big, covering almost his entire front rather than just his chest. The shape also isn’t quite as defined. 5/10 for lack of manscaping.

Sonic ‘06

*tries to ignore the just-finished-a-12-hour-shift-in-customer-service eyes and focus on the chest fluff* Okay, this is interesting. For the first (and so far, only) time, they’ve given Shadow’s fluff a different shape. It looks like a bird and that feels intentional. I dig it. Fluffiness is also sufficient. 8.5/10 for bird.

Sonic X

One thing that always bothered me about Shadow’s chest fluff in this is the placement. It’s so high up on his chest that it looks like it would tickle his chin. Any higher and it would basically be a beard. But what it lacks in sizing and proper placement it makes up for in fluff. That is one fluffy chest and I am here for it. 7/10 for chin-tickling fluff.

Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood

Same problem as Sonic X; the placement is too high. You can see in the top photo that Shadow’s chest fluff is almost in his teeth. This is not good. Just as there must be separation of church and state, there must also be separation of chin and fluff. Both of these concepts are equally important. Anyway. The shape is acceptable and the fluff passable, but as they say in real estate, it’s all about location. 4/10 for even less manscaping than before.

Archie Sonic

I...why is he like this. Why is it yellow. Why does it stretch across his arms. Kenneth Penderson what are you even doing here. -100000/10 for horrors.

Tracy Yardley's version of the chest fluff, however, is much better. The placement of said fluff on Shadow's body is off and it's shaped like an arrow that points toward his dick, but the fluffiness is off the charts. It looks like Shadow could hide things in there. 6/10 for storage fluff.

(Shadow was drawn differently by different artists across the Archie run, and it'd take too long to rate all of them. These are just a few samples.)

Sonic Boom

It's honestly really nice to see the fluff back in the right spot, and the shape is on point. There's also a lot of texture, though it quickly becomes too much of a good thing. Something about it looks dirty, like Shadow hasn't combed it. Gotta give a 7/10 for poor hygiene.

Mario & Sonic at the Olympic Games

There is no chest fluff in Ba Sing Se this picture. As cool as Shadow looks in these outfits, they completely obscure his chest fluff, thus forcing me to rate it 0/10 for nothing.

Sonic Boom: Rise of Lyric

Oh god why. This is an insult. The same problem of it looking dirty remains, only now it doesn't even have as good a shape as the cartoon did, and something about the proportions to the rest of Shadow's body doesn't feel right. 1/10 for unsettling nightmares.

Sonic Forces

Not rate-able, as every photo of Shadow in that game I could find showed him with his back turned. ☹️

IDW Comics

Again, I had to pick a few samples because various artists have worked on this. The one on the left is gloriously fluffy, which helps a lot, but it still feels a bit big and too high up. 8.5/10 for chest pillow.

The one on the right is nice and standard. 8/10 for normality.

Team Sonic Racing

Boo. Way too small AND it's still right up against his fucking chin. What part of separation of fluff and chin do these people not understand. This design feels like an afterthought. 3/10 because size does matter.

The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog

As you can see, most of the chest fluff is obscured by the apron, making it difficult to rate. From what little I can see, it appears to be a good shape and a tiny bit fluffy? 2/10 for apron.

Sonic Prime

LOOK AT IT! 😍 FLUFFY! THE RIGHT SIZE! PERFECTLY SCULPTED! I want to touch it. I want to run my fingers through it. I want to personally thank whatever artist or animator is responsible for this. Inject it into my veins. 1000000/10 for perfection. WildBrain understood the assignment.

Dark Beginnings

Sigh...and we're back to the same problem of no separation. Will they never learn? It also looks very flat. Not feeling it. 1.5/10 for flat-chested-ness.

Sonadow Sonic X Shadow Generations

*strokes chin* Yes, very nice. The texture and fluff are sufficient, the size is proportional, and the placement is suitable. There's even a nice bit of texture that makes it look a little messy but not too much. I approve. 9.5/10 for messy bitch.

Sonic 3 (movie)

Something about the shape is...off. It doesn't have as many edges as the other designs, and that makes it look like Shadow has underwear on his chest. Still, the placement is good and the fluff is there. 5/10 for underwear.

Sonic Rumble

Very nice! See, those edges are what make it, and this time they don't look sharp enough to kill a man. It's a good size, which is impressive since Shadow is more chibi here, and it still has the softness factor. Well done! 10/10 for meeting all of my needs.

#shadow the hedgehog #sth #sonic the hedgehog #sonic games #sonic movie #sonic comics #shadow the ultimate lifeform #team dark #my thoughts #shadow my beloved #going full unhinged for this one #sonic prime

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