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earthtooz · 2 years ago

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you're the only one that can tame diluc's anger. reader is called 'lady' but other than that no pronouns are mentioned, fluff, diluc being a softie in this, 1.2k wc.

your husband is notorious for being the stoic, level-headed character that he is. unperturbed by all things so long as mondstadt was safe and at peace, and when the city had someone as diligent as diluc protecting it, there was virtually nothing that ever made him falter. as much as you love and adore his rationality and straightforwardness, there was nothing that you hated more than his unwillingness to compromise in an argument.

his bullheadedness caused you to storm out of the manor, trek through the expansive fields of the winery in order to reach mondstadt. there, you calmed yourself down with a quick bite from good hunter before heading to the library because a quick rant to lisa would generally soothe the anger you felt.

however, your original plans of returning to the winery changed when a book that was recently returned caught your eye. noticing your fleeting glance, the electro-user recommends it, detailing its popularity and captivating storyline.

when lisa feels so passionate about something, how could you not be curious? she rarely gets a sentence out without a yawn nowadays so to hear her speak animatedly about a book is bound to get your attention.

without a second thought, you postpone your plans of returning home and find a comfortable couch to sit on before reading.

you must have spent longer than planned, and a favonius soldier barging through the library doors indicates as such, whose expression so panicked you would have thought there was a hillichurl invasion. he takes a quick scan of the room and relief floods his posture when his eyes land on you.

“lady y/n, you must come with me this instant,” the soldier demands after a quick salute.

“what is the issue?” you ask, undeniably curious.

“master diluc is searching for you and i fear that he is very angry. not even barbara can calm him, some of flora’s flowers have been singed, and he might burn down monstadt next, please come with me before it’s too late!”

you know that the soldier is merely exaggerating because as long as you were in mondstadt, diluc would never dare harm the city. moreover, he would never dare lay a finger on the city he loves, but his anger is nothing to take lightly, and you understand the knight’s fear.

although, you really don’t want to meet your husband.

“fine, i suppose i can classify this matter as urgent,” you sigh. “lisa, could you please let me borrow this book? i’ll return it in two weeks.”

“not a problem dear. better run along now before your husband supposedly burns down the city,” the librarian waves her hand, beckoning you to go, so you do.

the knight leads you to the whereabouts of angel’s share and before you could even turn the corner, you hear a mix of kaeya and diluc’s voices.

“i don’t know where y/n is, which is why i have my knights running around to find-” exclaims the calvary captain, beginning to sound perplexed at his brother’s uncharacteristic display of irrationality and franticness.

observing the scene, you see your husband right in kaeya’s face and suddenly you understand why the knight who brought you here was so frightened. the air had risen significantly in temperature and if you were a moment too late, he actually might have drawn out his claymore.

his red eyes glance behind the navy-haired to see you and in the blink of an eye, the red-haired pushes past the knights before storming down the street, right towards you.

“where have you been?” diluc asks, stopping only two feet before you. the deep frown on his face is evident of his displeasure, but the concern swimming in his eyes tell you that you don’t need to be scared.

“i was reading in the library,” you gesture to the book you were holding. “enjoying a peaceful afternoon until i got word that you were creating a ruckus.”

the winery owner visibly relaxes, tension flooding from his shoulders whilst a gloved hand runs through his hair, causing his bangs to fall messily in front of his eyes. “let’s talk about this at home,” he states, tone returning to normal as he takes your book from your hand, his vacant hand finding yours. diluc’s grip is tight and unrelenting, leaving no room for you to slip away as he turns to apologise to the knights of favonius.

then, the two of you leave through the main gates.

“are you still upset?” your husband asks and you squeeze his hand.

“a little,” you murmur before a small laugh escapes your lips, “but i wish you would have seen how terrified that knight was when he found me. it entertained me quite a bit, guess a thank you is in order for that.”

diluc doesn’t say anything but the guilt dripping from him is practically tangible, pooling around your feet and reminding you of the unpleasant argument you had earlier. as the sun begins to dip below the horizon and the sky turns a calming shade of orange, you realise just how long you spent away from him. no wonder why he was so frantic about finding you.

“the next time you storm out of the winery, can you at least let me know where you are going?”

you laugh at his proposition, unsure of how to respond but he stops. you’re forced to stop too when his unwavering grip makes you turn and look in the ruby eyes that set ablaze in the gold of the setting sun. diluc’s beauty is truly undeniable, and it’s moment like these that make you feel a little jealous that he was graced with such a gift.

“i’m serious, y/n, you worried me to end when you didn’t return after three hours. i thought something might have happened to you.” his gaze falls downward with his soft confession. “your safety is the most important thing to me, even when things between us are rocky, because- well, you know…”

your heart tightens and the step you take closer to him is instinctual, letting go of his hand to hold his face instead. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to worry you.”

“no, you have nothing to apologise for, it was my fault for being so unbearable in the first place,” the red-haired shakes his head, his hands finding a home on your waist. “i’m sorry too.”

“i forgive you,” you hover a kiss over his nose, causing it to scrunch at the sensation. when you lean back, the softness in his eyes and smile is unmatched and you’re grateful that you’re the only one with the luxury of seeing him as such. the only person he’s let into his kingdom of concrete walls is you, gifting you a more vulnerable side of him that the rest of the world has not seen in years.

“i love you,” you murmur and diluc hums, tapping your waist three times in response. “oh but diluc, you must tell me how worried you were over me, i think i deserve to know.”

the red-haired rolls his eyes before dragging you down the hilly path back home. you are perhaps the only one in mondstadt who could perplex him to no end, but that is just another testament of the love he holds for you.

#earthtooz: genshin impact #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x y/n #genshin diluc #genshin fic #diluc x reader fluff #diluc fluff #genshin x reader

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solarstranger · 4 days ago

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Hello! Bakugo anon back!

Omg I've got SO many ideas. My brain is just always turning and cooking him like a rotisserie chicken

One that's had me giggling here recently is crush Bakugo. I love when he's yearning and pining for us, you know?

Just him finding out you've got the hots for a fictional character, hearing you refer to them as your husband lmao. Would he get jealous? (He wants to be your husband...)

- 🍡

nonie!!!! the rotisserie chicken imagery is a stroke of genius because honestly, same. 😭 i ended up writing a little something based on your ask, although i kind of made the fictional character come from a game with a certain storyline. anyway, he's still pining in this, so i hope you enjoy it!

c.w. pining bakugou. the bakusquad makes a comeback. secondhand embarrassment lmfao.

navigation. (you are here), part 2

bakugou stiffens.

sure, he doesn’t have the world’s best hearing—he has his loud ass quirk to thank for that—but surely you didn’t just refer to someone as your husband?

across the table from him, mina barks out a laugh, punching you by the arm, to which you react by sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

…almost like she was teasing you about a special someone.

shit.

before he knows it, the words are out of his mouth.

“what husband?”

at his sudden interruption, the booth falls silent, the chattering kaminari and sero beside him pausing to glance in his direction, just as you two and kirishima’s gazes drift towards him.

suddenly aware of the attention he just voluntarily drew to himself, bakugou flames.

still, he needed to know.

“you said something about a husband,” he clears his throat, staring at you and only you, although he can sense everyone else staring at him.

“uh, yeah,” you answer, eyeing the rest unsurely. “mina was asking me about it.”

a beat.

“i thought you were single,” bakugou finds himself croaking—voice cracking embarrassingly midway—despite himself. at his statement, your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can open your mouth to say something, mina’s already leaning in, partially obscuring his view of you.

“why?” mina smirks, the same way that always indicates trouble, “does hearing her talk about a husband bother you?”

“mina,” you chastise the acid hero, elbowing her this time, just as bakugou shoots her a warning look, one that she immediately catches, and the pink-haired girl nods, miming the act of zipping her lips closed, a gesture you thankfully don’t see—gaze downcast in what looks like embarrassment.

“i am,” you clarify, struggling to meet his eyes—evidently flustered. “i was just—uh—referring to a game i’m playing.”

“…where you have a husband,” bakugou finishes skeptically, brows furrowed in confusion.

somehow, that doesn’t make him feel any better.

“yeah,” you squawk, much to his chagrin. “it’s part of the storyline,” you explain.

to that, bakugou only nods stiffly—not knowing what else to say—and the conversation shifts to something else.

the minute he gets home, though, the topic’s back in an instant in the form of a gajillion text messages from a whopping four different people—namely: mina, kirishima, kaminari, and sero—all varied, but united by the same central message.

and it’s how the ash-blonde should change his hero name to ‘captain obvious’.

a/n. i'm currently playing story of seasons: pioneers of olive town so the whole thing about having a fictional husband can't be any truer lmfaoooo. i got married to ralph yesterday, in fact. definitely adds to the delusions but hey, as long as we're having fun?

#thank you nonie!!!!!! i love pining bkg too. definitely up there next to katsuki on all fours #wait what???#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #re: bakugou katsuki #eeya.docx #enquiry with eeya #🍡 anon

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ariestrxsh · 11 months ago

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customer!matt x stripper!reader

⁭🎀⁭ content warning: smut, lap dance, role play, fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected sex, praise, pussy worship, exchange of money for sex

🎀 summary: while working a busy night at your local strip club, you see a familiar face in the crowd, but the two of you pretend not to know each other for the night

if you're looking for a chris version with a similar storyline, you can read it here 💖

dividers by @/dollywons

Taste

I had just recently started my job at a local strip club, and because I was new and unsure about how the people in my life would react, I opted out of telling my friends and family about it, so instead I told everyone I got hired at a bar, which wasn't entirely false. We did serve alcohol.

It took me a few weeks to get comfortable dancing in my heels, and a month before my legs weren't sore after every shift. Having been here a little shy of six months, I was making enough money to spend on even sexier lingerie so I could bring in even more tips. I was also learning new tricks on the pole.

I liked my job honestly, and I didn't feel like there were many people who could say that. I liked the work, I liked the women I worked with, I got paid well, and I even liked a lot of the customers. I had fun teasing men and spending my time with them while they gave me money and attention. It was a nice exchange. And I felt like I was genuinely getting to know some of them, even though they weren't exactly getting to know me. I was putting on a persona, and it was usually catered to the person I was servicing at the time, but it's not like it wasn't me. It was just only one aspect of me that I amped up and played heavily into. But I loved it. I loved dressing up and playing a role that was so different from my everyday demeanor and being what these men wanted me to be. In my everyday life, I was reserved, introverted, and kept to myself most of the time, but when I was dancing, I was an exaggerated version of who I was when no one was looking. My fantasies, my sexual desire, an alter ego if you will.

It was almost my time to go on. I reapplied my body glitter and made a few finals tweaks to my outfit. I was wearing a white sparkly corset that pushed my breasts up nicely and a matching thong as well as glass six inch heels. I had my hair down but out of my face and curly. "Give it up for Mary Jane," the announcer came on. I didn't want to use my real name at my work, so I decided on Mary Jane because it was innocent sounding and was also nothing like my real name. 'Taste' by Tyga and Offset played over the speakers, there was a spotlight on me and other lights around me flashed and changed colors, and I seductively strutted towards the pole in front of me, gripping it with one hand and doing a little spin around it. I slowly descended down the pole with my back to it until I was in a squat, looking out at the crowd of men who were eager to see my body and what it could do. I came back up and hooked one of my legs around the pole, doing a ballerina spin around it. I could feel all these eyes on me, and I gained even more confidence as the dollar bills started raining at me feet.

I made eye contact with a few customers I recognized, men who were regulars. Then my gaze scanned across a familiar face that wasn't one I usually saw in this setting. Matt Sturniolo? In a strip club? This was not his scene at all. We were decently close friends, but I certainly hadn't told him I applied here, and I didn't think it was necessary considering I didn't think I'd ever see him here. He appeared to be alone. No one I recognized was near him. And when we made eye contact, he was looking at me some sort of way I'd never been looked at by him before, like he was hungry for me. He had to have recognized me, right? I may look different with my tits pushed up to my chin, but not that different.

I focused my attention back to my dance, manipulating the attention of every man in the room, contorting my body in ways that had every man wishing they were the pole between my legs. I finished my song, collected my ones, tucked them into my corset, and carefully got down from the stage.

Once I looked up from watching my feet as I stepped off the stage, I saw Matt making his way over to me. I was really nervous about what he might say. If he'd be mad that I didn't tell him I was working here or if he'd tease me. Instead, he looked me up and down with his lust-filled blue eyes and licked his lips. "How much for a dance from you?" He asked me, smiling. He couldn't be serious. I hesitated for a second. I had never been put in a position where someone I recognized outside of the club came in and asked me for a dance.

On some level, it felt inappropriate. On another level, it felt like a bad business move to not take him up on it. "$100 for three songs," I responded nonchalantly. He casually took a $100 bill out of his wallet and tucked it into my corset with my other money. I liked the way he did that. Then he grabbed me by the waist and started walking with me towards the back of the club where he could sit down. "So, Mary Jane, did they say?" Matt asked as he sunk into his chair and looked up at me, almost as if studying the way I was gonna respond.

Was he going to pretend he didn't know me? Was this part of the fantasy, acting like we were two strangers who just met in a strip club when we're actually pretty close friends outside of this. I nodded. I turned around and began grinding on him, and he grabbed my waist in response, slowly running his fingers down my curves. "How long have you worked here, Mary Jane? Matt asked me. "Nearly six months," I replied while I shifted my weight so I was resting right against his half-hard cock. He let out a groan in response. "It's a shame I've missed you any time I've been in here," he answered. "You come here often?" I asked, it sounding like a bad pick up line in my head. "Sometimes, depends on what's going on in my life. Depends on my needs at the time," he told me. I didn't know that about Matt.

There was something about being on his lap, brushing up against his hardening member in his pants that was turning me on more than I thought it should be. I had given men lap dances before that I'd found attractive, and it definitely left me a little wet a few times. But this was different. I definitely had always found Matt attractive, and there was an extra layer to this, Matt and I acting like this was our first time meeting. The way his demeanor was different in this setting and the way mine was too. I was beginning to wonder if I was starting to enjoy this more than he was.

"I wanna see your face," Matt growled into my ear, and I obliged by turning around and straddling him. I went back to basically riding him with our clothes on while we looked into each other's eyes. Matt's hands almost immediately found their way to my ass. "You have an incredible body, you know that?" Matt commented. "You're not so bad yourself," I smirked at him. Matt's hands moved from my ass to my breasts. The way he handled me was gentle but with purpose and demanding at the same time. I loved the way his hands traced my body while I continued to grind against him. "Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad," Matt responded, staring at my lips. "You can if you have another $100 on you," I replied. No matter how badly I wanted to kiss him, I made it a rule that I'd always charge for intimate touch like that, because the men had to know it was transactional. I didn't want to make anyone feel lead on. This was my job, and this was a sale.

Matt shifted my hips so that I was straddling his knee now instead as he reached for his wallet in his pocket. I found myself holding my breath as his leg rubbed up against my already wet cunt and caused friction that sent a shock of pleasure through my nerve endings. It took everything in me to keep from riding his thigh while he pulled another benjamin out of his wallet and tucked it into the bra of my corset. I leaned in to kiss him. His lips were soft and pouty. His kiss was gentle, the same as his touch. His tongue slowly slipped into my mouth and brushed against my own. It was wet and velvety. While he passionately kissed me, his hands made their way to my face, softly cupping it. I pulled away, looking at him with a deep desire.

"Your three songs are almost over," I whispered, maintaining control of the situation. "I can pay for another three songs," Matt said, about to shift me onto his knee again. "Matt, please. As your friend, I can't let you do this. $300 is a lot of money to be spending at a strip club," I lectured him, breaking character. "Mary Jane, tonight I'm just another customer. I make my own money, I can spend it how I like," Matt bit his lip at me. "I wanna spend it on you, baby. I wanna spoil you," his words sent more waves of ecstacy through my body.

"Alright, another three songs," I said putting out my hand to accept another bill. "Actually, how much to take you to the private room?" Matt gestured towards the more intimate spaces where no one could see us. "All that you have in your wallet," I said jokingly, making a gun with my hand and jabbing it into his chest, but he took me seriously. He pulled out his wallet, grabbed a wad of cash, stuck it in my g-string this time, and tipped his wallet upside down to show me it was empty all while he smiled. I reached down to the money he'd put in my panties. "Only catch is, I want you for the whole night. Until the club closes," Matt growled while I counted the money. There was almost $1000 in my hand. I was shocked that Matt had this kind of money to blow at a strip club. And the fact that he did this semi-regularly? Matt was very quiet about how much money he had and about what a freak he was, and I liked that.

I thought about declining his offer and telling him I couldn't mix business, friendship, AND pleasure. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I'd be dumb not to. He was hot, he wanted me, and I'd never made this much money in one night before. "Deal," I said, tucking the money into my corset. Matt grinned at me. "Follow me," I said, leading him back.

I'd taken men into the private rooms before many times, and I liked it. It was quieter, away from all the noise. There was a bed and a couch. Usually, men would take me in there because they wanted more privacy. I'd never slept with a customer, no matter how much I'd been offered, but there were a few times where I'd definitely maybe crossed an ethical line that could technically get the club in trouble, but I'd never tell. I was good at keeping secrets. There were a few men I'd given handjobs to, one john who had taken my tits out of my bra and teased my nipples with his tongue, and one guy who rubbed my clit over my panties until he made me cum. I remembered being so embarrassed and blushing after that encounter, but that was the most money I'd ever made in one night. Until tonight.

"Why don't you take that top off?" Matt inquired when we were alone in the room. I smirked at him as I pulled all the cash out of my bra and set it next to my shoes I'd slipped out of to get more comfortable. I was nervous for him to see me like this, but it was just business. I started undoing the clasps on my corset when Matt came up behind me to help me. When all the hooks were undone, Matt slowly slid my straps down my shoulders one by one. He let my corset slowly fall to the ground, and when it did, he took both breasts into his hands and looked at them in awe. "Shit," he whispered to himself, fondling them, brushing up against my sensitive nipples.

Matt made his way to the couch and comfortably sprawled out, taking up space and licking his lips while his eyes studied my every curve while running his hand along his hard dick in his pants. "Come here, princess," Matt said, rubbing his leg and patting it, motioning for me to sit down, so I did. Once I leaned back into him, he played with my nipples some more, teasing them, pinching them, sucking on them. His hands slowly moved to the front of my panties, rubbing me through the fabric for a few minutes, and moved my thong aside while I sat on his lap. "Your pussy looks so pretty with your panties all pushed to the side like that," Matt complimented me in a voice that was barely above a whisper as he reached for it. When he started moving his fingers in circles skillfully around my clit, I let out a soft moan. "Oh, you're so wet, darling," Matt observed, exploring me with his hands. I loved sitting on his lap like a giddy little girl. His touch felt amazing. He slipped a finger inside of me and then another one while he looked down at my entrance, enthralled by how much wetter he was making me. "Oh, Matt," I whimpered as I started to get close. "Come on pretty girl. Cum all over my fingers," Matt smirked. I couldn't believe I was hearing these words leave Matt's mouth, but I took them as a command. I came unraveled while I sat on his knee with his fingers pumping in and out of me. I felt my body tense up and tremble for a few seconds, and then a glorious release.

"Good girl. You think I could make you cum again?" Matt cooed, licking his fingers while I tried to catch my breath, but I nodded and smiled. He lifted me up off his lap, revealing a wet spot on his pants under where I was sitting, and Matt seemed turned on by it. He sat me on the couch and got down on his knees on the floor between my legs. He pulled my panties to the side again, and I felt his hair tickle my thigh as he leaned it and attached his lips to my vulva. He teased me by kissing and licking everywhere but my clit while he looked up at me, smiling. "Please Matt," I whined, tugging at his curls, trying to bring him closer to where I wanted him to lick me, but he was doing it on purpose, making me beg for it, and he loved it. "Your pussy is so pretty up close and personal like this. Let me take my time with her," he smirked, teasing my entrance and kissing the insides of my thighs. He finally gave in after a few more minutes of my relentless pleading, manipulating my sweet spot with his tongue. He started moving it faster and more enthusiastically. It felt so good, I found myself sliding down on the couch, slowly but surely inching my pussy towards his face. He grabbed my hips and held me in place while he passionately moaned against me, sending shivers through my body. Matt was surprising me by the minute. He was certainly a jack of all trades, and I was learning I didn't even know a lot about him at all, only the parts that he wanted me to see. And the more I saw, the more I liked.

I started digging my nails into his shoulders as he continued to eat me like a mad man, running his hands and his tongue anywhere he pleased, and every time I was responsive to the way he touched me, he moved more eagerly. I was a moaning, writhing wreck under the flick of his tongue the carress of his fingers. I had never let a customer go down on me before. There were a lot of ethical boundaries I was willing to cross at this point for Matt. It just made it even hotter that we were playing into this fantasy that we didn't know each other and that he was just paying for a stripper - and at this point, basically a prostitute. I liked that Matt was paying me to eat my pussy. What a dream. And he was so wonderful at it too. Such attention to detail. So thorough. So restrained yet so urgent. I couldn't get enough of how much he wanted me.

"I'm so fucking in love with your pussy, I could eat you for hours," Matt mumbled in between licks. He closed his lips around my swollen bud and gently sucked on it until I was trembling and nearly screaming his name. "Yes, pretty girl. Make a mess on my tongue. I know you can do it," he cooed. His encouragement along with his skillful mouth had my second orgasm hitting me even harder than the first. I couldn't keep my hips from grinding against Matt's tongue while I twitched and whimpered obscenities, gripping the back of his head.

"Oh my fucking god. Where did you learn to do that?" I smiled down at him once I started to recover from my intense climax. "You're the one who basically showed me what to do with your body language. All I had to do was listen," he smirked. His answer was as hot as what he had just done to me. I liked the way Matt was in tune with my body, and the way he was trying things out to see how I'd react and then doing the things I loved over and over again. It was similar to how I behaved with my customers.

"Have you ever gone down on any other women in these clubs?" I asked him. "No, not ever. This was a first for me," he confided in me, which made me feel special. "First for me too. Guess it wouldn't hurt if we went further.." my voice started to trail off. "Say no more, princess," Matt said, finally taking the time to take off my panties instead of just moving them to the side again.

He unbuttoned his pants, pulled down his boxers, and entered me with no warning. I felt myself invite him in easily, and he started pumping in and out out of me aggressively. I loved the way he filled me and the way he spoke to me. I loved the way his lips parted to let out a stream of moans and the way he looked at me with his glazed over blue eyes, letting me know he couldn't take it much longer. His cock repeatedly hitting my pleasure spot was sending me over the edge again. I throbbed around his thickness as another wave crashed over me, and I got lost in it for a moment. All I could feel was endless pleasure, and there was a ringing in my ears that lasted for several minutes after I came. Matt loudly groaned "Oh, fuck," while he pulled out, leaving a mess on my pussy, and we both watched as his cock twitched and released his sticky white substance. He smiled down proudly and in awe of the way his ejaculate glistened on my womanhood.

He collapsed on the couch beside me after it was all over. "You're so much different at work as opposed to the shy girl I see every day," Matt nudged me. "Not shy, just keep my cards close to my chest," I corrected him. "But yeah, you're so much different as well. Who knew you could fuck like that?" I said, licking my lips, and he grinned as I complimented him.

"I've gotta go, sweetheart. The club is closing in ten minutes, and I've gotta come up with something to tell Chris and Nick about why I've been gone for several hours," he laughed. He leaned down one more time to stroke my face, and he gave me a sensual, slow, deep kiss. "Matt, seriously, come again. I loved doing business with you," I smiled up at him, not wanting him to leave. "I'll be back darling. Don't worry. I'd pay a million dollars if I had it to drown in that sweet pussy again. Just promise me, it'll be our little secret."

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ' ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙#ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ .ᐟ ✮⋆˙

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runninglikeabuckley · 28 days ago

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possibly hot take, but if/when they resurrect bobby, i would love it they didn't have athena's reaction be anger (which imo makes sense and obviously angela bassett would eat that storyline). i'd love if she just got to be happy lmao and maybe consider a career change. what i'd love to see is if BUCK is angry when bobby comes back. because bobby MADE him leave. buck took eddie wondering if he (eddie) could have done anything to save bobby, is because buck didn't. he didn't do everything he could to save bobby! bobby asked him not to! he asked buck to be strong, to take care of his team, and to let bobby have time with his wife. and we've seen how much buck is struggling, so imagine the ANGST if bobby comes back and instead of uncomplicated relief to have him back, buck is struggling to forgive him. for leaving, for telling buck to respect his wishes and let him die, for putting the weight of the team on his shoulders (in buck's mind). the angst!! there hasn't been a buck-bobby conflict since the lawsuit really, but they have such a good dynamic and its SOOO good and compelling to watch it come under pressure. also chim could be brought in as a parallel, given his anger with bobby pre-resurrection but i feel like given maddie and his kids it's harder for him to hold his anger once bobby is back (or give me a full buck chim storyline where they bond in a weirdly toxic way over bobby coming back, that would SLAP). ALSO!!! wouldn't it be convenient if there was another recent complicated father-son conflict that the show never fully resolved?? wouldn't it be interesting if there was someone who could relate to buck feeling betrayed by his father's actions?? or a father who could relate to bobby's catholic upbringing and sense of guilt over his son specifically, even though he never meant to hurt him?? wouldn't that be crazy

#tim you have this for free pls just bring him back #ALSO any fic writers PLEASE take this and tag me #i need to read it pls #also sorry to hen #i'm sure there's a way to involve her more in this hypothetical storyline #but the writers haven't set one up for me to use as easily and i'm currently in a zoom masterclass so i can't think of one rn #not to centre buck again but that is my right as a buck girlie AND also it's such a good dynamic for bobby specifically #bring back my favourite father son duo #ooh also kill of one of the buckley parents at some point #bc i hate them but also the way that would then fit in?? omg #anyway #evan buckley #bobby nash #buddie #bc everything is about buddie except buddie which is about christopher #911 #911 on abc #911 season 9 #bobbyalivemaxxing #chimney han #s9 spec #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

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milksnake-tea · 1 year ago

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━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.”

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time.

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#a date with death #a date with death x reader #adwd #adwd x reader #adwd casper #adwd casper x reader #casper x reader #casper #x reader #y/n #reader insert #grim reaper #grim reaper x reader #archives 🏵️

1K notes · View notes

usoinked · 6 months ago

Note

Hii! I love your last jey fic with him being possessive! Could you pls do one where he & the reader get into a fight over her being insecure with his story line with Rhea so he keeps her in their hotel for a whole weekend to show her who he truly wants. Maybe some toxic comments like "you think she gets this dick ma? Nah only you"

Love your writing!! Hope this makes sense haha <3

Omggg thank you so much and ofc!! Y’all know I love writing about Jey 🫶🏽🌚

CW: Toxicity, Arguing, Begging, Praising 18+ MDNI, SMUT, cursing, use of n word, unprotected p in v, creampie

Word Count: 5.4k+

You and Jey Uso were in a 2 year relationship, going on 3 years and for the most part everything was fine….was. There were always the usual bumps—scheduling conflicts, long road trips, and the occasional argument—but you had always managed to work through them. The love between you both was solid, built on mutual respect and understanding. That was, until the recent storyline with Rhea Ripley started to change everything.

At first, you could brush it off. You knew that wrestling was just that—wrestling. A scripted, fictionalized world where interactions were meant to stir emotions and get fans invested in the show. You were okay with that. You understood the boundaries and had even joked about how you’d have to share Jey with his fans and his colleagues. But something felt different this time. Rhea wasn’t just a colleague—there was something in the way she interacted with Jey that rubbed you the wrong way. It wasn’t just friendly banter; it was flirtation, and you couldn’t ignore it.

It started small—a teasing smile, a lighthearted comment during interviews, or the occasional touch on his arm after a segment. You told yourself it was just for the cameras. But the more you watched, the more it became clear that there was more to it than that. Every time Jey was near Rhea, he would act differently—more animated, more playful, more engaged. The two of them seemed to have a connection that went beyond the usual working relationship, and it left you feeling…uneasy.

Weeks passed, and the playful flirtation continued. Rhea would smile at him in a way that made you feel like you weren’t even in the room. The way her eyes lingered on him, the way her hand would rest on his shoulder a little too long, the way she laughed at his jokes—it wasn’t normal. It felt personal, and you started to feel like you were on the outside looking in. The jealousy was subtle at first, but as time went on, it began to eat at you more and more. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more between them, something you weren’t being told.

You were currently at the apartment you both shared when you saw a segment on your screen involving Jey and Rhea Ripley…again….she was cool at first until Jey and her started flirting back and forth. You knew that this was his job, but that still didn’t make you any less jealous…insecure even. The way she smiled at him when he made the motion to call him, the way she looked him up and down while smiling at him because of his appearance alone, and especially them being that close….it was enough to make you want to turn your tv off. You wanted to watch your man wrestle and look good but not while he was flirting with another female. Fuck no. Not only was it pissing you off, but Jey wasn’t answering his phone after the show ended. Granted you did give him a 30 minute grace period in case he had any dark matches or needed to pack up anything extra…but then it became 45….then an hour…then two hours. You might’ve been born at night but not last night.

Jey had always made an effort to check in after the show, even if it was late. He’d send you a text, make sure you were okay, let you know that he was thinking of you. But recently, that was happening less and less. He’d be busy after the shows—either with the crew or on his phone—and by the time you tried to reach him, his phone was either off or set to “Do Not Disturb.” You tried not to overthink it, but the frustration was building. And the anger was showing.

You sent him a long grueling text message full of swearing making sure he knew how pissed off you were. As much as you were pissed, you were also hurt. Ever since he’d started that storyline with Rhea, it began to seem like the same game over and over again. They would both flirt with each other on camera and then Jey’s plans of calling you after the show seemed to never have existed to begin with. Your face got hotter and hotter every time you thought about it and soon enough, came the tears. Your eyes began to water and slightly sting as the tears fell down your face. You made your way to the bathroom, the cool tiles under your feet offering little comfort as you moved. You grabbed your blue washcloth and ran warm water over it, squeezing out the excess before pressing it gently to your face. The warmth helped to soothe the sting in your eyes, but it didn’t take away the emotions swirling inside of you. You needed to feel something else, anything else. “Stupid ass nigga bruh” you sighed out after taking the rag off your face gently and putting your pink shower cap on, stuffing your braids underneath it.

Turning the water on for the shower, you let the steam fill the room. The sound of the water hitting the tiles was oddly calming, a gentle rhythm that drowned out everything else. You undressed slowly, as if peeling away the layers of frustration and hurt with each item of clothing that hit the floor. Stepping into the shower, the hot water cascaded down over your body, washing away the lingering tension in your muscles but not the ache in your heart.

As you stood there under the spray, you let the water pour over your face, the heat sinking into your skin. It felt like the shower was a way to cleanse not just your body but your mind. The emotions of the night—the jealousy, the anger, the hurt—flooded out of you, but they didn’t leave. They just sat there, heavy, under the surface, simmering quietly. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to push the thoughts of Jey and Rhea out of your head, even for just a moment.

The sound of the water became a small comfort, but it couldn’t block the pain that lingered behind it. Your mind kept drifting back to him, to the moments when you’d felt ignored, pushed aside. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he see how this was affecting you? You didn’t want to keep playing this game, but it felt like he wasn’t even trying to meet you halfway.

You finished your shower with a deep sigh, letting the water wash the worst of your frustration away. But the truth still stung—no matter how many times you scrubbed away the tears or the pain, it was still there. And that feeling, the one that came when you felt like you were losing something you cared about, lingered as you stepped out and wrapped yourself in a towel. It wasn’t just about Rhea or the flirtations—it was about the space that had been growing between you and Jey for what seemed like weeks now.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. And it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

The next morning hit you like a brick. You woke up to an empty bed and as you ran your hands onto the smooth cotton sheets, they found an empty space next to you. Sometimes you’d wake up and Jey would be there because he’d arrive early and surprise you but not this time. In times like this, you gave yourself therapy which was doing an entire skin care routine. You needed your mind off Jey especially since your phone notifications were just as empty as the space next to you.

As you got out of bed, the soft stretch of your limbs was accompanied by the satisfying sound of your muscles cracking, easing the tension from the long night. You rubbed your eyes, still groggy, and slowly made your way to the bathroom. With a quiet click, you flipped the light switch on, filling the room with a warm, comforting glow. You grabbed your blue washcloth, running warm water over it before wringing out the excess and gently pressing it to your face. The warmth felt soothing against your skin, helping to wake you up as you sighed deeply, mentally preparing for the day ahead.

You started your morning skincare routine, reaching for your cleanser first. The gentle formula lathered as you massaged it into your skin, focusing on any areas where you felt the remnants of makeup or the wear of sleep still lingering. After rinsing it off, you followed up with a toner, its refreshing scent and cooling effect instantly tightening your pores and balancing your skin’s pH. You swiped it across your face with a cotton pad, feeling the freshness settle in.

Next, you reached for your serum. A few drops went onto your fingertips, and you pressed it into your skin, allowing it to absorb deeply. The light texture and the nourishing ingredients felt like a treat, giving your skin that healthy, radiant glow you always craved. You followed up with a delicate application of eye cream, tapping it gently around the sensitive skin beneath your eyes, trying to reduce the slight puffiness and dark circles from the late-night argument.

After a few moments, you smoothed on your moisturizer, letting the rich cream hydrate your skin and lock in the previous layers. It felt thick enough to give your face a protective barrier but light enough to absorb quickly, leaving your skin plump and soft. Then you finished with a few drops of face oil, massaging it into your skin to lock in moisture and give you that dewy, healthy glow that lasted throughout the day. Finally, you topped it off with broad-spectrum SPF 30 sunscreen, making sure to cover every inch of exposed skin, knowing how important it was to protect yourself from the sun’s harsh rays.

Before you finished up, you reached for your toothbrush. You carefully brushed your teeth, the minty freshness of the paste helping to awaken you even more as you scrubbed away the remnants of sleep. After rinsing, you took a moment to check your reflection, satisfied with the glowing, refreshed version of yourself staring back at you.

Around 2:30 in the afternoon, you were sitting at the kitchen table, finishing up a fresh Caesar salad you had thrown together. The quiet hum of the apartment was interrupted by the sound of the door swinging open, followed by Jey’s heavy footsteps. You didn’t need to look up to know it was him; his presence was felt before he even reached the doorway. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and his furrowed brows and tense posture told you everything you needed to know—he was upset.

“What the hell is yo problem Y/N? You texting my phone and shit buggin’ out!

“Whatchu mean buggin’ out? You literally on camera flirting with another woman!”

“That’s my job! You knew that when we got together!”

“I ain’t know another bitch was gonna be all over you and then your ass wasn’t gonna be answering the phone! Joshua yo notifications were silent, you didn’t call me, and yo shit was on do not disturb bruh! Y’all have been flirting on the show for weeks! What? You had her in your hotel room too huh?!”

“It my fuckin’ job Y/N! Me and Rhea are friends outside of the ring and in the ring, but this is just a storyline! The most we’ve done is hug on camera! As far as me not answering my phone, my ass was tired! Tired as fuck and you on my ass for that cuz you think somethin’ going on! Hotel?! You think she was at my hotel f’real?! Ight, I tell you what. Come wit me on the road and see who I got in the hotel room.” He said stepping towards you. “Cause you ain’t gon find shit!”

“I don’t know she might be! Y’all might as well be fucking each other with the way y’all look at each other! Everybody on the net see that shit! You got a whole girlfriend at home Joshua!” You said taking a step towards him where the tension between you both grew even worse.

“That’s yo problem! Yo ass stay on the net Y/N, that don’t got nothin’ to do with me! With us!”

“You want me to come with you on the road? Bet!” You said before dissolving the tension completely due to storming to your shared bedroom and grabbing a few clothes from your closet starting to sort them on your bed. “You not finna have me looking fucking crazy nigga” you mumbled before grabbing your pink suitcase and beginning to throw your clothes inside of it. You were fuming, the argument didn’t make it any better and Jey not even attempting to understand where you were coming from made you even more pissed than you already were.

The drive to Smackdown was a long and quiet one. The silence between you and Jey stretched on, thick and heavy, like an unspoken wall you both couldn’t seem to break. Seven hours on the road with the person who had left you feeling so alone, was torture in its own right. The miles seemed to stretch endlessly, each passing minute feeling like a reminder of everything that had gone unsaid between you two. The hum of the tires on the highway was the only sound, broken only by the occasional change of gears and the low growl of Jey’s engine. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, his knuckles white, and his jaw remained clenched, as if holding in a thousand words that neither of you had the energy to speak.

Every time you looked over at him, there was that flash of gold from his fang teeth when he briefly parted his lips. His dark eyes remained locked on the road ahead, never meeting yours, and you wondered if he even realized how much it hurt that he hadn’t tried to reach out in any meaningful way. There was something about the way he held himself—so guarded, so distant—that only made the frustration and anger you’d been feeling more tangible.

The hours passed with nothing but the occasional hum of the radio and the drone of the road. The tension between you two seemed to increase with every mile, a pressure that built up with every unsaid word. Even though you were sitting next to each other, it felt as though you were on entirely different planets. You tried to push the swirling thoughts in your head away, but they kept coming back—thoughts of Rhea, of Jey’s evasiveness, of your own growing doubts. You couldn’t ignore it any longer.

When the GPS signaled that you were nearing your destination, Jey took the exit for the Marriott. The hotel looked standard—modern, with sleek lines and a minimalist design that spoke of business rather than comfort. The large glass windows caught the last few rays of sunlight, making the building look polished and professional. As Jey parked the car and cut the engine, you both got out in silence. The stillness in the air was deafening as you walked towards the entrance. Neither of you made eye contact, and the shared understanding that this trip—like everything else between you two at the moment—was shrouded in unresolved tension, hung in the air like a thick fog. As Jey got his bangs and your suitcase out of the car and handed the key off to valet, you took some time to examine the lobby. Securing your Pink Christian Dior bag on your shoulder, you made your way inside.

The lobby was bright and clean, with polished floors and neutral-colored decor that didn’t seem to offer much warmth. The hum of the air conditioning and soft murmur of other guests checking in was the only sound in the space. The reception desk was manned by a young woman with a friendly smile, her eyes lighting up when she saw Jey. Despite the tension you felt, a knot twisted in your stomach at the way she greeted him, too eager, too familiar. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than just politeness.

Jey didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. His demeanor was casual as he approached the counter, flashing the woman a quick smile before grabbing the room key. You stood off to the side, feeling the bitterness rising again. You knew it was irrational—he was friendly with people, that was just part of his job. But something about the way the woman looked at him felt too personal, too much like an insider joke, something you weren’t part of.

You followed him through the lobby, your steps slow as you tried to ignore the discomfort building inside you. The elevator ride was equally silent, the small space between you and Jey seemingly amplifying the emotional distance. He didn’t look at you once as he pressed the button for the floor, the ding of the elevator breaking the quiet as it moved upward.

When the doors opened, you both stepped out into the hallway, and Jey led the way to your room. The keycard swiped easily into the door, and it clicked open. You entered the room, and the soft, neutral tones of the decor did little to soothe your frazzled nerves. The king-sized bed was made neatly, the sheets crisply white, and the space felt sterile. There was a desk by the window and a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. The curtains were drawn, casting a soft shadow over the room, but even the quiet comfort of the space couldn’t ease the tension that followed you inside.

Jey set his bag down on the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, but there was still no attempt to break the silence. You stood by the door, your body tense, wondering if you should say something or just let the silence settle. But the words didn’t come. There was too much to say, too much that had been left unsaid for far too long.

Instead, you took a deep breath and walked over to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect yourself. The hotel room, with its impersonal design and sterile comfort, seemed to reflect the state of your relationship with Jey—something that was once warm, but now felt cold. The mirror in the bathroom caught your reflection, and you sighed. You didn’t even recognize the woman staring back at you. She looked tired—worn out from the constant emotional back-and-forth.

You ran your hands through your braids, staring at your reflection. What am I doing? You thought as you sat your bag down, but the answer was unclear. On one hand you thought that maybe you were reading into things too much because Jey had never actually cheated on you throughout your relationship or given you a reason to believe he was going anywhere. But on the other hand, the amount of insecurity and jealousy you had seemed to be taking over you all because you thought your man was entertaining other women…especially Rhea.

The sound of Jey moving around in the other room broke the silence again, but it didn’t bring any comfort. To find some form of therapy, you grabbed your bonnet out of your bag and put it on, stuffing all of your braids underneath the silk fabric before turning the shower on, hoping the sound of the water would give you a moment of peace, a moment to think. But you knew it wouldn’t. You wanted things to feel right again, but it was starting to feel like you were living in a version of reality that didn’t belong to you anymore.

As you undressed and stepped into the shower, the water rushed over you, but it couldn’t wash away the unease. The more the hot water streamed over you, the more you felt the weight of everything—of the confusion, the jealousy, the hurt. Even the soap and small bubbles couldn’t cleanse your mind. And when you stepped out and dried off, you knew it wasn’t just the hotel room that felt empty. It was the space between you and Jey.

After stepping out of the bathroom, you grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around yourself, the soft cotton providing little comfort against the swirl of emotions that still clung to you. You dropped the clothes you’d been wearing earlier into the laundry bag you found tucked in the corner of the closet, the fabric brushing against your legs as your mind raced. When you turned around, your gaze immediately landed on Jey. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands tightly intertwined in front of him. His posture was tense, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at you with those dark eyes that seemed to carry all the weight of unspoken words.

It was clear he was upset, but instead of speaking, he just watched you—his jaw set, his gaze unwavering. The tension in the room thickened with every passing second, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were being scrutinized under a microscope. His silence spoke louder than any argument, and it was almost like he was daring you to say something. It was as if he wanted you to stay quiet and let him carry the weight of whatever this was, to allow him to make the rules for the weekend—rules that seemed to say you were his and this trip was a way to show you that.

“Is there somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Do you see anybody in here?”

“This still don’t prove anything, why would she be here when I’m here. And again you and her are all over the net.”

“See what I’m sayin’, yo ass trippin for no reason. Ain’t nobody coming up in here. You always listening to what people on the net saying and letting them get inside yo head and shit.” He said before kissing his teeth and taking the remote turning on Peacock and putting on a random Raw taping to play in the background.

You were too in your feelings to notice it and ended up looking at him with straight anger. “Nah Joshua, you look at her like you way too comfortable. It ain’t about listenin’ to no net shit, it’s bout what I see nigga. And what I see is my man flirting with another female like he really wanna be in between her legs f’real.”

Jey let out a soft chuckle, his golden grills on his fangs lining up perfectly with his bottom teeth, but that wasn’t a funny laugh. That was a ‘I’m getting sick of this shit’ laugh and you knew it all too well. “You think I wanna be in between her legs?” He said as he turned to you and started walking toward you no longer laughing but looking deadass serious. His voice dropped a bit having the same deepness from when he was in the bloodline.

“We finna be here all weekend Y/N and you still convinced I got another woman coming to my hotel room and that I wanna be in between her legs and shit. Let me show you who legs I’m really tryna be in between since you think you know everything” he said backing you into the wall pinning both his hands on each side of you trapping you right in front of him. He then leaned forward before planting a rough but passionate kiss on your lips.

At first you gave a bit of hesitation but with the feelings and thoughts from earlier slowly starting to dissipate with his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, you gave in as you opened your mouth allowing him inside of your cavern. Your tongue collided with his as your arms wrapped around his neck deepening the exchange between you two.

With one swift motion Jey’s hands left the wall and made their way to your towel instead snatching it off your body as well as your bonnet letting your most of your braids fall down your back as some fell to the sides of your face. As you began to run out of air, you slowly pulled away before taking Jey’s shirt off revealing the beautiful work of art underneath. His tribal tattoos were never failed to catch your attention, especially with how they contorted when he was mad due to his muscles tensing. Dammit Jey. You were too busy admiring him that you didn’t even notice him picking you up before your attention suddenly snapped back to him as your back hit the soft fabric of the king sized bed.

Jey kicked off his low panda dunks before crawling on top of you, you both getting into another passionate make out session before this time it was him who pulled away as he made his way to your neck. His kisses and his teeth grazing your skin made your body shudder as you leaned your head back to give him more room, while soft moans slipped from your lips. Jey’s hands glided down your waist and to your legs pushing them open as he slowly kissed down your chest, then to your stomach, and stopping just above your entrance. Now he could’ve dived right into it but he wanted to make you…wait. He placed tender kisses between your thighs making sure to go agonizingly slow before dragging his tongue between your folds and up to your clit. His hands gripped onto your legs, as he slowly dragged his tongue over your folds again.

What started out as anticipation and soft moans of pleasure quickly turned into full on moans, inappropriate sounds, and squirming. His tongue started to twist and slide through your folds and over your clit as you could do nothing but squirm as your legs began to shake. You bucked your hips as your fingers gripped the sheets beneath you. “Ughhh!” You couldn’t help yourself, you knew you two were in a hotel and the walls were paper thin but that didn’t stop you from letting out those sounds Jey loved so much.

“Hell nah ma, none of that runnin’ shit” he murmured pulling away just slightly before pushing your hips down and going back to putting his tongue to work. God. He moved that tongue so well. There was no way you could stay mad at him when he was making you feel this good. You couldn’t buck your hips so you were forced to literally endure the feeling of the knot in your stomach tightening along with your legs shaking. The slurping and lapping sounds of Jey eating you out didn’t help the situation as your nails found their way into his scalp. “J-Jey!” You moaned out his name as a slew of curse words left your lips due to your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave, your body jolting as it did so. Gasps of air left your lips as Jey still didn’t let up knowing you loved to be overstimulated.

“S-Shit! I c-can’t, I can’t!” You said feeling another knot build up, still not fully recovered from your previous orgasm. “One more time” was all he mumbled against your folds as you suddenly felt two of his fingers enter your walls beginning to pump in and out of you. The pleasure was becoming more overwhelming by the second, with one curl of those two fingers against your g-spot you completely broke, spilling all over his fingers and his mouth. His moans beneath and the fact he was cleaning up the aftermath caused your legs to almost completely go numb, they were shaking already still reeling from the massive orgasm you just had. But it was nowhere near over yet.

Jey slowly pulled away not minding that some of your juices dripped down his beard. With one quick wipe with his hands, it was gone. With one swift finger motion, he beckoned you over as you obeyed and swung your legs to the side positioning yourself on your knees before connecting your lips with his. The taste of yourself on his tongue was driving you crazy because it was you and no one else. He returned the kiss and you being the sneaky girl you were decided to get a feel of that Samoan dick you missed so much. It was so hard, large, and you could tell he was eager based on the precum leaking from the head of it. A low growl slipped from his lips before Jey pulled away from the kiss and gently put you in doggy style position where you were facing the TV before getting behind you grabbing your hips. “You wanna feel this dick don’t you?” he asked before starting to rub his dick against your throbbing pussy, it was drenched due to the orgasms you had from earlier and that was all the lube he needed. He pushed inside of you with a quick thrust of his hips as he immediately let out a low moan with a mixture of a grunt. “God damn, baby you tight as fuck f’real” he said easing his way deeper into you which evoked a moan from you. “Yeah take all this in, all f’ me” he praised.

Your walls clenched around Jey as his soft and gentle movements turned into much more rough and faster ones. Jey was paying full attention to you right now and that’s how you liked it. He was too busy giving you back shots to think about anyone or anything else. This was how it was suppose to be. He was showing you who he truly wanted, and your body was reciprocating it. Your pussy was the one thing Jey would always get drunk off of, you’d end up in different positions afterwards and today was no different. The faster and rougher his thrusts got, the more your walls gripped him with desperation.

Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head as one minute you were letting out loud gasps and the next your nails were digging into the bed as Jey was pounding you from behind before forcing you to look at the tv screen in front of you. On the screen was Rhea and Damian currently attempting to take on the judgement day with just the two of them. But the numbers game was too much, you heard the YEET chants from the crowd but with Jey’s dick inside of you, it was nothing but background noise. You remembered this RAW, a lot of people expected him to be there due to the storyline. In reality he wasn’t there because they were prolonging it. But even though this was an old taping, your mind went to him not being there due to the events currently unfolding in your shared hotel room and the fact that he chose you over Rhea. Something about Rhea being dominated by the judgement day and your man being behind you made your pussy throb and your walls completely clench around Jey. “Look at that” he said while taking a hand full of your box braids into his hands. “You think she gets this dick ma, nah only you do” he said as his movement in his hips sped up and he made it a point to purposely brush over that spot of yours which caused your body to shake all over. “Uh huh, found that shit didn’t I? Doin’ all that yellin’ for no reason just to end up like this under me” he muttered before suddenly nailing that spot straight away being completely satisfied by the loud moan that left your lips. “J-Jey! P-Please…” you begged as the sound of flesh slapping against each other filled the room along with your moans and his grunts. Your braids slowly fell back down over your face as Jey’s hand let go of your hair but slowly wrapped his hand around your neck instead lifting your head back making you look up at him instead. “Please what? Look at me when you talk to me ma” he said as he hit that spot over and over again. “Ughhh! F-Fuck!” You moaned up doing your best to attempt to look at Jey but the pleasure was too much. “Whatchu say ma? You ain’t telling me nothin’” he said as his strokes drove you wild. The knot in your stomach was becoming tighter and your pussy was becoming wetter and wetter. “P-Please c-cum inside me!” You screamed out, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes from the pleasure. “You want me to nut in this pussy huh?” He said as his thrusts started to become sloppy indicating he was close. “Y-Yes Daddy!” You screamed as you came undone all over his cock unable to hold yourself back. Seeing you come undone was enough to send Jey over the edge as he let out a number of curse words, slamming into you one final time letting his seed cover your walls. “God damn, mmm” he said before letting out a sigh of pleasure.

Your body was slowly coming down from its third orgasm of the day before you looked at Jey panting. “We ain’t done right?” You asked not being able to help yourself.

“Done? Hell nah. We got all weekend.”

♡

Note: I really hope you liked it! 💕 also if there’s any spelling errors I’m so sorry😭

Divider credits: @enchanthings & @anitalenia

Taglist: @punksyeet @binnieaddict @sheaabuttaababyy (if I did not tag you, it would not let me and you will have to comment!)

#wwe #fanfic #smut #wwe fanfiction #18+ mdni #jey uso #wwe fandom #jey uso smut #main event jey uso #jey uso x reader #jey uso x black reader #black reader #fanfiction

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forlorn-plushie · 5 months ago

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Styles of Prep - Games that Care

Yet another of the lies that Wizards of the Coast has sold TTRPG players, which they've bought into wholeheartedly, is that there are different styles of preparation, and all are valid for every game (because both are valid for D&D, and D&D is right for every game, of course.)

I'm gonna go over a couple games I've run, and explain that actually they all care about the type and level of preparation the GM does.

Indie games are often honest and open about what they want. To take a high-prep example, I recently ran Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy. It is not subtle! In the narrator section, right after the introduction, it says "We cannot advise you strongly enough to use prewritten adventure modules". It's not just there - throughout the rules, there's an emphasis that the situation, the state of the world at the outset and thus at every time that follows, is known and rigid. Eureka is a mystery game - the who, what, how, why, and more are all set in stone. The narrator is forbidden to change the scenario on the fly.

Eureka is very forceful of this because the authors, writing a game for mystery investigations, are well aware that it's damn near impossible to make a coherent mystery up on the fly. I'm sure they've tried. I've tried. It's impossible. Something will contradict, and you won't notice until well after the players have reasoned from that contradictory information. It can be done, but not well, and the mental load on the GM is going to kill them.

It's not a genre thing - Eureka is a game about the act of solving mysteries, but so in Brindlewood Bay. I don't have experience with Brindlewood Bay myself, but I do know that the GM doensn't have a real mystery ahead of time - there's a move which is rolled to determine whether a theory is correct. Both are mystery games, but they approach them differently - and each makes a vastly different demand of the GM's preparations.

On the opposite end of the spectrum from Eureka, more in line with Brindlewood Bay in fact, is just about every Powered by the Apocalypse game. Apocalypse World is very clear about what to prepare, and it's more or less the opposite of Eureka: "Daydream some apocalyptic imagery, but DO NOT commit yourself to any storyline or particular characters."

The rules actually tell you to start on what would typically be 'prep' during the first session: "Work on your threat map and essential threats". It's more like note-taking, at that point, just placing the names of stuff that gets mentioned in the session. After that first session, and between each other, you do some real out-of-session work, solidifying the notes you made into Threats.

I won't go into it at length, but Dungeon World is much the same - though there's no 'map' for threats, as characters are expected to be far more mobile, the system of solidifying problems that were mentioned in-game into problems with some mechanically attached descriptors is much the same.

Now, on to the elephant-sized dragon in the room - Dungeons and Dragons. The game itself is, truthfully, quite honest about this. It's the marketing team and the community, having fallen for their propaganda, who pretend low-prep is a valid way to play Dungeons and Dragons.

The 2014 DMG, correctly, focuses on prepared play. It asks DMs to consider "Do you like to plan thoroughly in advance, or do you prefer improvising on the spot?", but everything in that book is either rules text or preparation guides. Mostly the latter.

D&D, as it has existed since 3rd edition, (this is what I have experience with - I can't speak to earlier editions, except to note that there are alot of modules in their time and in the OSR tradition) is a game that thrives on prep. Even if that prep is procedural - tables of encounters and wandering monsters for an area, for example - it's impossible to run the game from nothing, without a lot of background, and have it work.

Imagine not knowing D&D, at all - you pick it up, read the non-list rules (so skipping most of the classes, races, spells, feats, backgrounds, weapons, etc) in the PHB and DMG, and try to run a game entirely improv from the rules and vibes. You'd quickly end up scouring the monster manual for appropriate encounters - and the game, by the rules, demands appropriate encounters! There's a budget system! It's a game about killing monsters and does a lot of math to try and make sure it's challenging without killing player characters.

D&D, at least in the books, is pretty honest about what it wants from preparation. It wants a lot! The playerbase pretends otherwise, but they're wrong. I've yet to find another game that tries to lie like this. Eureka wants you to use modules. Apocalypse World wants you to wing it. I have yet to find any game that actually doesn't care.

#ttrpg #forlorn essays by plushie #ttrpgs #indie ttrpg #indie ttrpgs #D&D #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #dnd #dnd5e #apocalypse world #pbta #indie rpg #tabletop games #tabletop roleplaying #eureka #eureka ttrpg #ttrpg prep #ttrpg theory

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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months ago

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turns of caring

husky!neighbor!Eddie x neighbor!Reader

foreword: this anon got more than they probably bargained for SOZ but thought it was a cogent time to give some more depth and backstory to husky!neighbor!Eddie tysm anon!!! here’s the meetcute storyline which kinda gives this more bones, h!n!Eddie mlist here. thanks for reading!!!!

cw: husky!Eddie, fat/plus-sized Reader, Frank the Dog (our beloved), death anniversaries, general PTSD/depression, grief, R mentions former partner, allusions to abuse, R has past history of fear around dogs, hurt/comfort (this sounds so heavy there's fluff I prommy)

wc: 3.6k

___

The first real spring rain of the season catches you by surprise, clouds splitting ten minutes into your walk to release the downpour.

Luckily, you and Frank have only made it partway around the brick side of the apartments, your aimless path usually led by the black pitbull’s nose.

It’s a short dash to the covered stairs, but the shambling nature of Frank’s pace means the both of you are partially drenched by the time you make it back to Eddie’s front door.

“Goddammit,” you chuckle, rain dripping from your hairline into your eyes, against the shoulders of your borrowed jacket as you fish for the keys. “Worst dogwalker in the world. Sorry, pal.”

Frank’s tongue lolls out of his mouth when he looks up at you, long tail thumping rhythmically and forgiving against the floorboards where he sits, dripping with rainwater and waiting.

You roll a palm over that thick head of his then pull back with a wince- wet dog smell is not something you’re entirely used to, yet.

Eddie has been incredibly kind and patient with your mistrust of the canine species, understanding that the fear wasn’t your fault (something you didn’t realize yourself, until recently). He started slow, letting you learn and experiment at your own speed, only pushing the comfort zone when he felt you could handle it.

And now, you’ve graduated from heart-clenching fear at every lick to a proper walkabout with a real, live dog. The best one, probably in the whole world, but you might be slightly biased.

Frank’s been his easy, amiable self throughout the process, undeterred by your caution in the beginning, with an almost human-like sense of self that you attribute to his owner’s care.

Since the dog’s early-morning flight a few months back, Eddie wisely changed out the front lock to something more sturdy- it takes a shoulder shove to get the door open these days, Frank trotting happily into the small alcove of the apartment as you close the door behind you both.

Eddie isn’t in the kitchen or connected living room when you glance around, but then, you weren’t really expecting him to be.

He’s been a bit off, lately, something tight around the lines in his eyes and cheeks when he smiles.

You noticed it about a week ago, picked up on some frequency of his pitched just high enough for your ears only, a vague disruption impossible to point to. Small things, like a laugh that came too late, or touches that felt like it came from someone with an absent mind, were your only indicators.

You’re not sure why you’re so sure that Eddie’s change in mood has nothing to do with you. What you do know is Eddie gives you a feeling steady enough to stand on, and the deep assurance that he’ll come to you when he’s able.

Plus, this whole setup is still rather new, and as much as you’re curious and anxious to know what’s up, poking holes into a still-tender relationship doesn’t seem like the right call.

You’ve endeavored to be as supportive as you can this past week, Eddie subtly letting you take more on than he normally allows (or tries to spare you from having to do).

The last three evenings have had you over at Eddie’s, your offer to walk the dog met with a kiss to the forehead and a murmur of thanks each time.

Said dog brings you back to the preset with a wet thwap of his tail against the calf of your jeans. With an amused sigh, you bend to one knee.

“Okay, Frankie,” you say, unclipping his leash before turning to loop it around the hanging wall hook. “You’re all wet so you gotta let me find a towel to-”

As if activated by a sleeper word, Frank turns tail and beelines down the hall, moving faster than your hand that flails out to catch his collar.

“Frank!” You whisper-shout in agitation, standing to speedily kick off your boots, then following the trail of watery mud-prints that now line the wood floor of the hallway.

The culprit is found pawing at the almost-shut bedroom door, big nose snuffling between the crack of space until the hinges allow enough room for his head.

“Frankie, seriously.” Your voice is still low- not that you think Eddie would be mad at a mess, but you’re uneasy at the thought of only your fifth walk with the dog going awry. “I gotta wipe you down before you can go anywhere. Frank-!”

The dog shoulders his way into the room, lamplight spilling into the hall as you round the corner to catch up, exasperated- the sight of Eddie on the bed, however, shocks you into stillness.

He’s lying face-down, cheek smushed against the cradle of his crossed arms, body stretched along the length of the duvet. One sock foot hangs off the edge, rib cage expanding under his t-shirt with slow, sleep-laden breaths.

The sleeping part is what surprises you. Eddie never takes naps, prides himself on it- you’ve come over many a time to cuddle and inevitably fall asleep in his arms, only to wake and realize he’d been reading or otherwise occupying his time waiting for you to wake up.

Think I might just be built different, he’d said once, jokingly, trying to absolve you of any guilt you felt at leaving him behind, however brief. Never been able to crack the code on day-sleeping.

Apparently, the code’s been broken- and while you’d love nothing more than to let the man sleep, a doggy snort from the other side of the room freezes your veins.

“Frank.” There’s desperation in the whisper this time, hands lifting slowly from your sides as you take a careful step into the room. “Please don’t.”

If you make a move to grab at his collar, Frank’s gonna end up in the one place you don’t want him, so you force your actions to be as smooth and unobtrusive as possible, biding your time while the dog presses his wet nose into the arch of Eddie’s hanging foot.

Eddie twitches but luckily doesn’t wake. You’re a breath away from leaping forward when Frank lowers to his haunches, preparing to jump, pausing when he hears your frantic whisper of “No no no nono-”-

-but the pause is short-lived, just a perk of his ears and tilt of his head, playing confused at the command, mouth dropping into a dopey tongue-out smile as he launches all 75-pounds of himself upwards.

Frank lands in the space between Eddie’s legs, and for a second, you think the coast is clear enough to try and drag him towards the bathroom- until one of his big paws clumsily steps directly onto the back of Eddie’s bare thigh.

Eddie jolts, and the movement throws the upper half of the barrel-chested dog against Eddie’s back; Frank, overjoyed to have woken his favorite person and likely imagining himself much smaller, begins to walk his way up, wet paws sticking to the fabric of both t-shirt and duvet.

Eddie’s barely got time to blink blearily awake before The Beast is upon him; he lets out a sleepy “Whuh-?” then an indignant squawk as Frank shakes the whole bed with the force of his panting and tail-wagging.

“I’m so sorry,” you start, hands cupping elbows, feeling helpless as you stand at the edge of the carpet. “He was- we got caught in the rain on our walk, and I should’ve checked the weather, but I just didn’t think- and then you were sleeping and he jumped up before I could-”

Your voice wavers. At this, Eddie pushes up into his arms, his own voice husked with sleep as he says, “Hey, whoa- okay, Frank, off, for fuck’s sake.”

He gives a firm pat to the dog’s side and successfully shifts his big weight, enough to sit up fully; one arm curls around wet fur to keep Frank at bay while the other reaches for you.

“It’s okay,” Eddie affirms, eyes on you and pleading for your touch. “Honey. I promise it’s okay. Frank’s just a butthead.”

“Oh my god.” Your brows pinch together, surveying the mess as you step forward into the open V of Eddie’s legs, hands still worrying at the jacket around your elbows. “I’m so sorry.”

“No more of that,” Eddie murmurs. His hand rises to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing over the apple before dropping to squeeze your upper arm. “Don’t worry about it. Okay? I needed to clean these sheets anyways.”

“But not your shirt,” you whisper with conviction, arms unfolding to rest gingerly around the tops of Eddie’s shoulders. “He got you all over.”

There’s a rosy sleep-flush across the bridge of Eddie’s nose, an indent from sleeping on tented arms against the right side of his jaw. Dimples spring up with his smile when your arms make contact.

Eddie fits an arm around your low back, pulling you closer while simultaneously angling you both away from the eager wet creature lapping at his other arm.

“One summer, I took Frank to work with me on my uncle's farm- and this jackass literally rolled in a mud puddle, stepped in horseshit, and took a snooze on Wayne’s handmade deerskin rug.”

One of your hands leaves Eddie’s shoulders to fly to your mouth, covering the gasp. “No he didn’t.”

“Sure fuckin’ did. Thought my old man was gonna write me out of the will, all ‘cuz of Frankie Boy.”

At the mention of his name, Frank leans into the restrictive belt of Eddie’s forearm to lick anywhere his pink tongue can reach. You giggle, all the tension going out of your frame as you offer the back of your hand for the dog to lick.

“He smells awful.” With a wrinkle in your nose, you sit more of your weight on Eddie’s thigh, elbow hooked around your boy’s neck regardless of the damp probably seeping into his jeans.

“Ain’t worse than shit,” Eddie says with an exaggerated Southern drawl, wincing when Frank gets a face-lick in.

Another laugh, and Eddie squeezes your thigh, leans in to kiss just under your jaw.

It doesn’t feel like the right time to bring up his recent mood, so you content yourself with busywork- while Eddie manhandles the wily creature into the tub, you strip the sheets and start up the washing machine, running a towel over the rain-wet parts of your body and tossing in the coat you’d borrowed for good measure.

Based on the thunking and swearing coming from the bathroom, Eddie will be occupied for a bit longer. You take the opportunity to assess the contents of his fridge, putting together an easy meal in your mind as you line up the ingredients on a kitchen counter.

A can of pesto, some leftover rotisserie chicken, and a box of dry pasta from the pantry will do just fine. Eddie is not in the habit of letting you make meals for him- he always manages to beat you to the cooking portion, a mutually beneficial set up.

Tonight, though, you want to bring him some comfort- and a bowl of carbs seems like the way to go.

The pasta’s at a rolling boil by the time Eddie reappears, Frank a streak of black as he escapes the torture of the shower, intent on rubbing off the clean feeling against the couch.

“Weirdo,” Eddie declares, too much fondness in his voice for either you or Frank to believe the insult.

When Eddie sees you at the stove, he blinks, like the sight is totally abnormal. “Hey. What are you- honey, if you were hungry, I could’ve-”

“I know!” You interject, trying to keep your voice bright. “But you always do the cooking. I want it to be my turn.”

Got him. Eddie finds it near-impossible to tell you no, especially if it’s something you want.

He sighs like it pains him to see you do any sort of work, sidles up behind you at the stove and drops his chin to your shoulder. His arm wraps around your waist, and you allow yourself a slight lean even as you give the pasta a stir.

“I wanna make sure… you don’t have to say sorry again. You’ve got nothing to make up for.” Eddie’s voice is low and sincere. “Is there an apology in these noodles?”

The smile that pulls at the corner of your mouth is gradual but fierce, heart tender with something close to love as you turn in his arms.

Chocolate-brown eyes watch your face closely as you say, “Not Apology Pasta. I promise. Just regular ol’ I Want To Feed You Pasta. Scout’s honor.”

You’d meant to do the salute for effect but the wooden spoon in your hand hinders it; Eddie chuckles and kisses your cheek, but upon pulling back and seeing your scrutinizing expression, exclaims “What?”

“You took a nap.” The tip of the now-dry spoon pokes Eddie’s cheek as you squint at him.

“Guess I did,” Eddie says, a slight shake of his head, dismissive.

“You never take naps.”

With a shrug that you can feel against your own body, Eddie gives a long suffering sigh. “Was dog-tired today- if you’ll excuse the expression.”

This, aimed at Frank, now on the giant dog bed in the corner of the living room- apparently tuckered out from a day of mess making and post-bath zoomies. His head rests on clean paws, ears flicking back at Eddie’s interruption from his personal slumber.

“Am I only allowed to nap with you?” Eddie’s teasing now, making a joke of it- you twist in his arms to give the boiling pot another stir as he hums, “I’d be down to make that a rule…”

“That’s not what I meant.” You set the spoon to the side, hands resting at the countertop edge as Eddie’s chin slots into your shoulder again. “I just- just wanna make sure you’re okay, I guess. You’ve been a little… not here, lately.”

It’s out in the air now, and you can’t take it back. Eddie’s hand pauses in its path up your arm, a subtle disruption as his stare goes vacant.

You count the beats in your head, anxiousness rising with each delay. Twelve, thirteen-

“It’s not you.” His voice sounds hollow but convicted, hand tracking north to thumb over the line of your upper arm. “I promise. Just… extra-tired today, sweetheart. Side effect of gettin’ old. Nothing to worry about.”

With a final kiss to your shoulder, Eddie retreats, taking the warmth with him. You nod, becoming absorbed in the task of draining and fixing up the pot of noodles while Eddie pulls a pair of bowls and glasses from cupboards.

The last thing you want to do is push him into answering, but you can’t lie to yourself- the tides of peace are starting to turn into unease.

Despite this, a pleasant dinner is spent in each other’s company, your sock feet cozy in Eddie’s lap under the small wood table. He gives you a one-handed foot massage between bites of pesto pasta while proclaiming you the best cook in the world.

There doesn’t seem to be anything amiss in Eddie’s manner during the meal, and you wonder if it was a mistake to mention it, at all- maybe he’ll feel like he has to hide his moods from you, now; maybe he isn’t into you enough to be honest; maybe-

“Got a preference?” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of the worry spiral as he points the remote at the TV. “Looks like Jeopardy, more Jeopardy, and some 80s reruns.”

“Christ, you really are old.”

Eddie chuckles as you abandon the clean dishes in favor of the couch, dropping into the cushions to stretch out on your back. “Old reruns sound good. So long as you lay with me.”

“Done deal. 80s fest it is, then.” He clicks the proper channel, then tosses the remote to the coffee table.

When Eddie turns and sees the position you’ve taken, he makes to lay sideways, meaning to spoon you - but you stop him before he can settle.

“Should’ve been more specific,” you murmur, Eddie poised in a hover, waiting for your word. “Lay on me.”

It’s almost funny how quick he goes down- careful not to hurt you, but gratefully and heartily sinking his weight against your lower half. His legs twine with yours, head nestling into the soft of your stomach.

One ringed hand comes to rest on your thigh, another arm fitting itself between the back of the couch and your side. Eddie breathes a long, contented sigh, breath warm through the fabric of your shirt.

Wordlessly, your hands go to his hair, strands wrangled into a low bun with an elastic. You slip the tie over your own wrist, unwinding the locks to free them from their confines.

There are a few salt-colored streaks that you pay special attention to first, running just the tips of your fingers over the grey; Eddie’s eyes flutter shut when your fingers plunge fully into the thicket, rubbing against his scalp in gentle circles.

“Feels s’good,” Eddie slurs, brows pushing together; you pause to smooth the line with your thumb.

“Good,” you whisper back, pleased when he hums and sinks further into the support of your body.

The TV switches from commercial to the opening credits of a film, but stays on mute- neither of you reach for the remote. In the corner, Frank stretches with a grumbly groan before resettling on his side to take a nap.

Your fingers don’t stop sifting through the silky locks of hair, even when Eddie speaks.

“I meant it, sweetheart.” His eyes are still closed, but his thumbs sweep soothingly- one at your side, the other over your thigh. “My funk isn’t about you. This day- this week, really, is a hard one for me. But, uh… especially today.”

In response, your own thumbs travel to either side of his temples, a silent encouragement, a small I’m here.

The breath that shudders through Eddie is felt most at his ribs, a brief, bumping spasm against the inside of your legs, before he says, “It’s the anniversary of my mom dying. I was six. Took it pretty hard.”

“Oh, Eddie.” Your own breath punches out, hands sliding down to the plane of his shoulders, his broad back, wanting to be closer, to provide him with as much warmth and comfort as he always gives you. “I’m so sorry. That must be so hard.”

Eddie presses a kiss to the side of your thigh, grounding himself. “Yeah. It blows. A long time ago, but still. And I’m sorry I didn’t say anything until now- I didn’t wanna worry you, but I’m not… not used to sharing it, yet. Or letting my guard down this much.”

The warmth of your palms seep through his shirt as your hands move again, one to draw patterns at the tops of his shoulders, the other cupping the back of his skull. “You don’t have to apologize for that, Eddie. I’m so grateful you told me when you were able. Thank you.”

Your voice feels tender and raw, words steeped in acknowledgement and empathy. The both of you breathe out in tandem, realigning, Eddie resting more solidly against your stomach which gives you strength enough to speak.

“My week is in November. It’s not even, like, attached to a specific memory- I just remember feeling the most lonely I’ve ever felt, stuck in a house with an animal I was scared of, and Jamie-”

But you don’t want to bring your shitty ex into this sacred moment, probably any more than Eddie wants to hear about the awfulness you went through. You clear your throat as if the name could get lodged in there, freeing your airways to suck in another breath.

“-anyways. It wasn’t a good time, and as much as I’d like to forget it, I think some part of me needs to remember. To feel the hurt and shittiness all over again, like an antidote to the poison of the memories.”

“Jesus,” Eddie swears softly. “It’s like you’re in my brain.”

An exhale of a laugh from you, and Eddie’s on his elbows, head tilting up to meet halfway even as you bend forwards. His breath fans across your lips as he whispers.

“Thank you, for telling me about something so hard. Usually I’m bed-bound for the whole day, but you came and let the light in, without even knowing. I’m so grateful.”

Tears spring to the corners of your eyes when Eddie presses his lips to yours- a kiss of deep intent and unwavering caring.

It makes your heart physically ache, fists balling the back of his t-shirt, a tear slipping down your cheek- when Eddie pulls away, he catches it with his thumb, brow furrowed.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, and you laugh through your tears.

“Say it again and you’re gonna owe me a whole bowl of Apology Pasta.”

Eddie joins in on your laughter, and the feeling of those joyful vibrations releases the tension around your heart.

The two of you resume the former comfy position, Eddie planting another kiss to your tummy before the side of his face gets planted there, too.

You stretch to hit the unmute button, bass-heavy theme song playing over the speakers as your hands return once again to the softness of Eddie’s hair.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #husky!eddie #husky!neighbor!eddie #eddie munson x you

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ladyloveandjustice · 14 days ago

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So I saw a post (relating to a recent bad comic that was misrepresenting Robin!Jason) claiming that even outside that comic Alfred has always been classist, and "one of Jason's biggest haters" and then another person making a similar claim...and I'm really curious where this comes from because literally the first Jason comic I ever read was about how much Alfred loved him and was mourning him after he died. It's called "the delusions of Alfred Pennyworth" from Gotham Knights #34 and involved Alfred seeing a little ghost Jason and being comforted by it.

(This story single handedly made me a Jason!Robin fan and is still one of my all time fave lil Batman stories)

This isn't something confined to flashback stories, he also clearly loved him in the comics written before Jason's death.

(Detective Comics #573-- and yes, this is Post Crisis Jason, the next issue, part 2 of this storyline, mentions Jason's "former life of crime")

Alfred actually goes out of his way to make Jason feel less awkward about the tire-jacking and calms his nerves about his first day as Robin in this story from Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #100

So I have. no idea where this is coming from. I do recall a comic where he victim blamed Jason (though inwardly he was blaming Bruce), but EVERYONE ELSE in that comic also victim blamed him, I cannot stress enough how Jason was victim blamed by every single character in the Batfamily at one point or another. That's a DC comics problem, not an Alfred problem.

Did he say something critical of him as Red Hood? He definitely wouldn't be alone in that, so I don't see how that proves anything. but. maybe it was something especially mean? Is there some comic I missed? Wherever you got this take, it's canon that Alfred was very supportive and loving (in his own very reserved Alfred way) towards Jason when he was Robin, and you cannot change this. I mean DC can try to change it by retconning but we know the truth.

#alfred pennyworth #jason todd #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batfamily #dc comics

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perseruna · 1 year ago

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heyyyy do you have any details/sources for the ca*ill being a jackass thing? ngl i watch twn for yen and jaskier so i was already planning on continuing to season 4 but i'd love some reasons to be actively excited for the actor switch. but i haven't kept up on the behind-the-scenes stuff so i'm kinda lost on that front if you're up for sharing any of what you know!

okay guys buckle up this is THE anti henry cavill megathread xoxo

First of all him dating a teenager as a 33 year old fully grown man literally gross and disgusting.

Also as this quote implies they started dating a year prior and only went public when she was 19 so they supposedly started dating when she was 18.

His entire dating history is a MESS. Sure the women he dated are not him, but he chose to date them, I wouldn't even associate myself with people like these let alone be in a relationship with them. He dated the infamous transphobic TERF Gina Carano, albeit before her loud controversy, but I doubt her harmful views were any different back then. His current gf has a history of doing black face.

His "Me Too" comments.

His comments on the Me Too movement are literally so vile. If you don’t want to be called a rapist, just don’t rape women, it’s literally as simple as that. They’re even more foul because they’re promoting the idea that women lie about their abusive for fame, promoting that harmful rhetoric especially in our times is incredibly dangerous.

Now onto his on set behavior.

We can't talk about his set behavior without mentioning the deuxmoi set leak. Here's the transcript of it:

[Transcript:

There’s something I really really wanted to read to you guys--it has to do with why Henry Cavill left The Witcher. I know that was something that you guys were super interested in when it happened, and I just recently got this message. Somebody was like “Hey, do you want to know what really went down?” And I was like “Sure!” So let me just read it. It says:

“At the beginning of the show, Henry was good to work with. A lot of difficult demands that made people feel like he wasn’t a team player, but that’s not unusual for a really big star. Though in TV it truly usually doesn’t happen until the second season. But in season two and three something shifted and he became really impossible for women to work with, which is always a big problem, but even worse here because the showrunner is a woman. He would try to overrule her and try to get changes made last minute across the board without her knowledge, which, if you know anything about showrunning, is completely fucked. The showrunner has to sign off on every miniscule detail down to the buttons on a costume. Female writers and directors were suddenly being completely ignored on set, unable to do their jobs. Every department head was complaining. He started making comments—it wasn’t a sexual thing, he wasn’t grabbing anyone or being lewd, but it was disrespectful and toxic all the same.

“He is deeply addicted to video games, to the point where it was like working with any other addict. He was distracted, he was late, he was obsessive, and a lot of people think the misogyny came from gamer world. Video game bro language is not how you talk to coworkers, and he wouldn’t stop. Someone on the show compared it to watching someone get brainwashed by QAnon, like his whole personality shifted. Eventually his disrespect escalated. He would rewrite scenes without even alerting the other actors in the scenes until it was time to shoot. He decided that he didn’t want any romantic scenes at all—no kissing scenes, no shirtless scenes, et cetera. He wanted complete control of storylines but really had no idea of the limitations of TV, structure, budget, et cetera. He formed a weird alliance with one writer who was also a gamer, who eventually got fired after multiple HR complaints were made and after that writer left, Henry did anything he could to hold up production and cause problems.

“Eventually top brass at Netflix was tired of him costing them money with delays and HR investigations and the showrunner was asked to construct a potential exit for him. Netflix reached out to him personally and he was given one final warning, and violated that warning with an email he sent to the entire writing staff right after that meeting. That was it. It’s very disappointing.”

End transcript.]

Now believe me or not, but I know from a really good source that the leak was indeed real.

There's a lot of patterned behavior that tracks with what we know of him and his past controversies.

After that leak came out, there was a lot of people from different places coming to comment that ‘yes’ they’ve heard a very similar story adding a little bit more details of their own.

this quickly deleted tweet from one of the writers/producers:

there were rumors about him being an asshole to Anya specifically.

He went on record that he doesn't "understand" sex scenes. Which I know the sex discourse is rampant nowadays and each to their own, but he specifically signed up for a role that requires those scenes and then refused to do them and was allegedly nasty to Anya about it and with the way he talks about women...

Also it’s important to touch upon the “writer he had a weird alliance with” that man in question is Beau DeMayo of the recent fame of getting fired by Marvel from X-Men ‘97. He was previously allegedly fired from The Witcher for being emotionally and physically abusive. And he allegedly got fired from X-Men for being abusive as well. One of The Witcher writers tweeted this after Beau smeared them for “disliking the books” Beau was literally the first person to start that narrative.

The fact that it was HIS idea not to say lines of his dialogue in S1 and instead grunt. To the point that Joey had to take Henry’s lines and make it his own, so the plot would make sense, he talks about it in this interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=Oyh0t117t0U&, and then once S2 press arrived Henry was talking about how he was trying to fight the big bad writers to give him more lines. Ridiculous.

Everyone is already pointing out that the cast looks so much happier without him, and it’s very true. Henry was never present on close to any BTS pics from filming the previous seasons, or on any cast dinners or birthdays. He wouldn't even do any shared interviews with the other three mains but only had solo interviews which to me was giving disrespectful like you're an ensemble you’re not the only lead here. It felt like he was above them to sit down and answer questions with them. When they were doing press junkets in Brazil and Poland Anya, Joey and Freya would always arrive together and leave together with that man leaving all the events early and by himself. And like people who post quotes from the cast about him being perfect from press junkets as “proof” are insane to me like Obviously they’re going to say nice things about him, not only they're newcomers, and he's an established industry name, but they’re doing PRESS for a show that he’s a STAR of (well, was lmao)

The fact that he never defended Anya from the racist trolls, even though most of them were HIS fans. Like she had to go through so much and that man couldn’t make a single comment about it as a leading man BUT he could make a whole IG post because people were being mean to his gf and calling her out for doing blackface.

And sure people might say that a lot of these are unverified sources, and I’d get it if it was a singular case, but there are a ton of these accounts that all match each other. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #mega thread

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orpheuswasmine · 3 months ago

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“I need someone to remember me.”

HUMAN CONDITION POSTER FANART DROPPP RAAHHH 🔥🔥🔥

I WAS GOING THROUGH SM BUT HERE THEY ARE !!! Took so long hope you all like them though !!!

“I need something bigger then the sky.”

The Remenants of Bill

“Hold it in my arms know it’s mine.”

The Thriving Seed of Bill

“Just how many stars do I need to hang around me?”

This took me a while !!! And I can talk about the Bill vs Billy whole thing now 💀

Basically, how I read a Human Condition, it’s practically this whole dichotomy of Bill vs Billy and no one is aware of it. Believing Bill can change is an act of believing Billy is there, believing Bill can’t change means Billy is dead.

Billy is the root of Bill’s empathy and change, or what Bill would call, the root of his weakness. Bill considers Billy weak and deadweight, something worth forgetting. In the first lines, we ever read from Billy in A Human Condition is, “Just fit in”.

In the beginning of the Billy storyline, he himself in a major contradiction to Bill’s own beliefs and self-worth. Billy is what everyone hopes to achieve in the end, but Billy died the day Bill destroyed their dimension… right? Yes and no 🐺

The remnants live on and begin to crack through ways that Bill has taken notice of, especially when he’s with Mabel. It’s moments where he spends time with Mabel, I picture the hostile face shifting to a more softer and rounder face. Mabel brings out the best in him. Unknowingly the reason Billy returns. It isn’t just Mabel that brings the Billy side out. It could be objects of interest or of fear and even guilt. Objects of interest could be the silly straw or the spaghetti scene from the recent chapter. The fear and guilt of Billy is brought out by Ford when he chokes him out or when Bill wanders into the mind space Ford had locked up.

I have more to say about Billy, but man I gotta talk about Bill because I got so much to say about him.

Bill is a cheat, liar, and other say, a monster through and through. But Bill is simply a manifestation of survival and going against all of that he knew. The line in chapter 27, “Yes. I’m completely cured. My irregularity will not affect my ability to fit in, your excellence.” This is a lie that Bill said, this was an act of wanting to survive and protecting himself. This is also the point in the Billy storyline that Billy starts to identify himself with Bill and this is the same chapter where his mother and father starts to call him, Bill, as well.

This is the plantings seeds of Bill, that continue to thrive even after failing the very thing he was manifested for. He allowed not just himself but Billy to die. It’s only now they have another chance, but Bill believes he’s the sole reason why they had survived for so long before. Billy is weak and can only bring in danger. This pathetic, weak, piece of him is holding him back, and yet it is something worth protecting just to survive.

We see Bill truest form through lines like, “But Bill wasn’t weak. He was strong and he was smarter than all of them. They didn’t see it yet, but he could prove it! He only needed time. He wouldn’t be a burden, he would be a credit to all triangles, like his parents had said. He was different than other irregulars. He was better.”

But the next line is, “Because Bill was weak in the eyes of Euclydia. He was a freak, an irregular. He was made wrong. And yet. Bill wanted to live.”

Bill is a manifestation of wanting to survive and not letting anyone in. Even in this weak human form, that motivation drives home. He is protecting not himself but Billy as well.

I imagine if you were to enter Bill’s mind, it would be this split down the middle where Bill and Billy are seprated, but both of them have a piece of each other. Bill with a younger and triangle Billy, while good old human Billy is trapped with a more familiar triangle Bill.

Here’s pictures without the word 😼

“To finally get somewhere I can be all done.”

“Somewhere like Heaven.”

That’s how read Bill and Billy’s storyline and interpreted it. The drawings showcase them and in their own spaces. I like to think Bill is in the darkest part and only he and Billy illuminate the space. I gave him crazy long hair that would be everywhere since he is everywhere and because having long hair is great, but such a pain to try and maintain and take care of.

Billy looks the most like Bill’s human form, since he practically accepted this and the only artical of clothing he’s wearing is the sweater Mabel has gifted them. He’s in the brighter and hopeful side since he holds all the good parts. He’s just trapped with a piece of Bill, still trying to guard him.

Can’t wait to see what A Human Condition has in store and I’ll probably continus on with this theory/headcanon 😭 I actually have some headcanons about Bill and Billy, but idk if anyone wants to hear allat 💀

@sapphosscribe AGAIN, you’re such a talented writer! Got me thinking and all 😭 can’t wait to see what you have been cooking up 😼

#gravity falls #bill cipher #gravity falls bill #book of bill #billford #gravity falls ford #gravity falls bill cipher #gravity falls dipper #gravity falls mabel #gravity falls stanley #a human condition ao3 #a human condition #gravity fall fanart #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls au #billford fanart #bill cipher fanart #bill fanart

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madlori · 8 months ago

Text

Sometimes the delulu IS the solulu.

After some thought, and reading a lot of really insightful thoughts here and on Discord, I think I've reached a conclusion.

I'm going full tinhat. Not in an unhinged way, though.

I don't think this is the end.

I'm not going to count on it. I'm barely going to hope for it. But I am going to...keep an eye out for it.

The one common refrain we've heard from each other is that this did not feel like a permanent breakup. It felt so obviously and blatantly like a setup for Buck to fight for the relationship. It was that "one partner freaks out a bit and the other has to show their commitment" relationship hurdle which is so common it's a trope. In fact, most of us assumed that's just what it was...until those interviews

Now, I do not put Tim Minear up on some kind of pedestal of writerly greatness - far from it. And he did not write this episode, but the plotlines all go through him.

BUT.

He has always been very attached to Tommy as a character and to this relationship. He loves it. He loved red string theory so much that he wrote it into this episode. And I'm about halfway convinced he's in love with Lou but that's beside the point. (I mean, we get it, Tim.)

Tommy's what he always said he wanted to get for Buck. Firefighter, integrated into the 118, yadda yadda, we've been over this a lot. Someone he chooses, someone he works to build something with. Someone who shows up for him. He had Buck SAY in this episode that he'd never felt like this since Abby.

The thread of Tommy wanting a found family like Buck's. The intense settled/caregiving vibe of 8x05. It all felt so...purposeful. And yes, I agree that this could have been done just to punch up the angst for Buck when it ends. But that's not the only explanation.

The many, many comments of wanting to move Buck along in his personal life. Oliver wanting to do settled, domestic storylines with him. Giving Tommy the big hero romcom entrance in that hospital.

And what now? Cycle Buck through another love interest? It's hard to imagine recapturing what he had with Tommy with anybody else, or for the GA to embrace it as much as they did. What little we can see of the GA reaction (because the official socials are weirdly quiet and have not posted) is that they're not happy about this. Tim knows this.

I can buy Tim making some dumb writing decisions but he's not stupid. I find it very hard to swallow that he'd voluntarily toss away all this, and this potential, and what they'd already established, and a pairing/character/actor he loves, for what? For nothing.

So I think that it's not for nothing.

I think the plan IS to reunite them...

...they just don't know when, or how.

For some reason he wants to give it a break for awhile. I don't know why. There could be off-camera reasons. But I think it happened recently. Two weeks ago we got interviews talking about hurdles being overcome, relationships deepening, etc etc. It's a great episode for them, came out of Oliver's mouth. Not important, not consequential - great. And hey, what happened to that very important Bobby conversation where he gave Buck important advice? It wasn't there.

I think a change was made in the last two weeks. And yes, I know the loft stills were dated 9/17.

Two weeks is plenty of time to reshoot one scene, between when those interviews came out and last night. The stills could be from the first time it was shot, in September. Put the guys in the same wardrobe, we'd never know the difference, or that those stills weren't from the scene we actually saw.

The scene was always the one we saw, but was always meant to be temporary, and the change was in how they talked about it in the interviews from last night. That is a simpler explanation, as it doesn't involve reshoots, but it doesn't explain those very incongruous interviews we got two weeks ago that do not match the scene we saw. Now, they have always vagued it up, and talked around things in interviews, but this was an entirely new level of misdirection and outright lying that isn't typical.

I'm really tinhatting it up now, but hey, what have I got to lose? I'm not investing anything in this. It's just...a thought.

If you think the network interfered (I don't, at least not for plot-related reasons, see below) or Oliver demanded the relationship be cut (I don't - I know lots of you are mad at him but I'm not), whatever it was...I just get a vibe. It could be as simple as money. It could be a ratings thing. Honestly? It could be that they've found out they're getting cancelled, and were ordered to cut bait on guest stars. They could be kicking the can down the road to goose ratings for spring when they do bring it back. There are lots of reasons I can think of and probably more that I can't.

I read a thoughtful and reasonable post about how it was more or less a mercy killing to post those interviews - most showrunners like to keep viewers guessing and coming back, so for them to say definitely BT was dead meant it's really, really dead (although how definitive they actually were is another question).

They might be right about that. I don't know.

Or they just might not know themselves. Even if the plan IS to reunite them eventually - if they don't have a plan for how or when, the safest course is to shut it down. No guarantees they can make it work, so play it safe. Oliver and Lou might not be looped in on this.

It's pretty thin. They probably would be, although we have ample evidence of actors not knowing stuff until the last minute. The other option is that they are looped in and are intentionally lying but I think that's very unlikely - although Lou has demonstrated a keen skill in keeping his mouth shut when necessary.

I'm not going to get nuts about this and neither should anybody else. I'm not going to be scouring socials or the internet looking for support or clues. I'm not going to be holding my breath waiting for a sign.

The only thing I'll keep an eye on is how they handle any flirtation or dating Buck does in the near future. How they handle it might be telling.

This is ALL very unlikely, let's be real.

I'm still tinhatting, though. Why not? What have we got to lose?

But if I'm right, I expect that red dodgeball in my inbox toot sweet.

(And Buddie still isn't going canon, btw.)

#911 abc #911 speculation #911 spoilers #bucktommy #tevan #hope springs eternal #not for nothing but I accurately predicted that the Miceli's scene would be their first and it would be their 6 month anniversary

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