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klausysworld · 11 months

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Hi I was wondering if you could make a Klaus Mikaelson Love one shot where the reader is Carolines twin sister and also Klauses mate but Klaus don't want her to get hurt by his enemies so he spends his time on Caroline and the reader is a vampire so she can feel the mate bond and doesn't understand why he hates her so much to ignore their mate bond so she goes into depression and doesn't eat or drink blood she doesn't leave her room and she is in pain all she wants is Klaus but she thinks that Klaus doesn't want her and Caroline starts worrying about her so she gets Bonnie to do a spell to see what's wrong with herand they figure its because of Klaus rejecting her.

ends in smut only if you want to it doesn't have to!!!

Resisting the truth

The concept of soulmates wasn’t something Klaus believed in. A ridiculous theory really.

And when people claimed to have had them he took pleasure in killing one just to watch the other crumble at the sight.

Even when Rebekah insisted that Marcel was hers, he wouldn’t let them be together. It was a stupid idea and he wouldn’t condone it.

He didn’t believe it in any respect.

So when he felt that odd pull, well he didn’t know how to respond.

Looking at her, he didn’t understand. She wad his type yes but from what he could tell she was only a vampire, she couldn’t have been a witch. So he didn’t know where the pull was coming from.

Even in Alarics body he could feel it. At first he thought the teachers body was attached to her but then he bumped into her in his own form and the attraction was even stronger.

Klaus didn’t like new things and didn’t like feeling things but he also knew if he killed her now then the bloody Salvatores would retaliate and most likely would grab their precious doppelgänger and run. So he left her be but kept a close eye on her.

Following her when he got the chance and learning things about her while trying to find out what kind of trick she was playing on him. She was meant to have been used for the sacrifice, first Caroline replaced her and then Jenna.

And then once he left Mystic Falls with his good friend Stefan, for whatever reason, all he could thing about was her.

Countless dreams haunted him and the urge to draw her face was driving him close to insanity. To begin with he thought perhaps killing her was the best option and then Stefan had to go find Klaus’ stash of sketches of his dear friend Y/n’s face and decided to tell Klaus all about her.

And somehow, hearing about her made him feel less crazy. He found himself asking pointless questions and listening to stories from Stefan. Until of course one of them realised that they were talking about her a little too much and they both awkwardly avoided the topic.

Having her walk straight into him yet again at senior prank night only made his thoughts worse. He loathed how his body reacted so quickly to her, just one inhale of her freshly washed hair and his dick was pressing up against his jeans. His hand grabbed both her arm and the doppelgänger’s before dragging them both back to the main hall. He proceeded with his plan as normal with minimal glances to the girl although he could feel her eyes on him the entire time.

He was entirely unaware she could feel the bond just as well. But she was less cautious about it, she was a teenager and experiencing new feelings. Ones she didn’t understand but she wasn’t a paranoid control freak so she leaned toward the feeling rather than away.

In fact she even followed him occasionally. When she had nothing better to do and wasn’t needed by the group, she tried to dig into his persona. But he was a difficult man to pick apart and she often just went back home when she got bored.

Sometimes she tried to talk to him, or just smile at him but he wasn’t the easiest to communicate with unless he was running the conversation. And she often felt like she was just annoying him so she tried to leave him alone but something just kept leading her back to him and she found it easier to go with it than resist it.

He found her a bit of a nuisance but at least she was a pretty one. And the more she was around him the more he warmed to her. The more beautiful he found her and the dirtier his dreams got.

Eventually he couldn’t handle the amount of time he was spending fucking his own hand and made his way to a witch formation. Only to be faced with the impossible truth.

And then he saw her in a different light. She had both a target on her own back and his back. So he did the one thing he knew how to do really well, push her away.

And god did he push hard. Ignored everything she did or said, avoided her like the plague.

He assumed she had a silly little crush on him and nothing more but he didn’t know she was taking the rejection of the bond so harshly.

Being a vampire it was massively increased and quite frankly it was soul destroying.

He didn’t see the way her skin was greying;the emptying of her eyes. He wasn’t there to see how her mother had to cradle her in bed like she were a small child again. The look in Caroline’s eyes as she tried to get her sister to be excited for their birthday.

What was even more cruel was Klaus coming over to her house to heal Caroline without even checking on her. Giving her twin sister a birthday present but not her? He never spoke to Caroline before, how could they possibly have formed a better friendship than them?

Had she entirely misread everything? Had he not smiled at her with that same look in his eye? Had he not initiated flirtatious interactions and inched closer to her?

She didn’t feel the hunger she used to feel for blood, almost as though it weren’t appetising at all any more. Repulsive even.

Caroline worried beyond relief as she witnessed her sister fading right before her. Stefan and Damon couldn’t get her to eat, Elena and Bonnie couldn’t entertain enough to get her out of bed, nothing was working.

Not until Bonnie offered to do a spell, with Liz’s reluctant permission she performed it to find what was wrong. And the answer both shocked the group and sort of made sense. They had all noticed at some point the strange need they had for each other. But through Damons research in the past when he believed Katherine was his soulmate, he knew what the ultimate result of a rejected mate could be. And as much as he hated Klaus, y/n was like a little sister to him and if she needed him for a little bit then he would push back his revenge for a moment. Plus it would put him in Elena’s good books and Liz’s.

So he let Caroline go and beg Klaus to save her sister.

Klaus wasn’t sure how to respond when Caroline came in with a white oak stake held to his chest while she yelled every offensive word she could at him. He had her by the throat quickly, throwing her off and to a wall but she was straight back at him. Screaming at him asking how he could have done this.

And after a very long back and forth argument, he realised what he was doing to the Forbes girl. But he wasn’t exactly sure how to react.

He knew he was no good for her, he would only be the cause of her death but apparently he would be that anyway. Which he found to be ridiculous but whatever.

But the second Elena let it slip to Rebekah that her brother had a soulmate, she had him by the hair dragging him to the Forbes residence and forcing him inside. Caroline and Liz left the house and Locke them in, despite Klaus being able to break it down.

While in there he couldn’t help but feel the forceful tug towards her room. Her heartbeat was so weak and her scent was fading. He tried to resist the pull like he had forced himself to for so long but hearing her pain filled whimpers as she shifted onto her side had his leg bouncing. Her dry coughs and groans had his teeth biting at the skin around his fingers and finally when she gave a cry out for her sister he got up to go and see her.

His heart hurt seeing her halfway desiccated and he reluctantly came to sit at the edge of the bed. Her eyes were heavy as she peeked up at him, her brows furrowing before a sadness filled her

“Are you here to kill me now?” She rasped and he frowned

“No my dear, no I won’t be killing you” he whispered, he felt bad now that hr had considered doing so in the past but better knowing that he no longer desired to.

“Why not?” She asked confused “you don’t want a soulmate…” she trailed but neither of them said anything because they both knew she was right, he never had wanted a soulmate.

She nodded weakly, sighed softly and relaxed back against the bed. He hesitantly shifted further into the bed, gently pulling her a little closer so her head lay on his lap.

Slowly he brought his fingers to her hair, just gently stroking her as he silently went over his options, wondering what was truly best for each of them in this scenario.

Would she really be better of with him as a soulmate?

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thefallenangelsgang · 1 month

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Fuck it, I'm throwing my hat on the ring about the Emil announcing Nate from Fallout 4 is the bystander Soldier in the Fallout 1 opener.

First and foremost, it was a stupid thing to say. As he backtracks to later, the conceit of Fallout's protags is they are supposed to be anyone (and that issue is precisely why some people hate the extensive prewar character background given to you in Fallout 4). For the lead writer to pull a JK Rowling (why would you do that? None of those went over well) is such a major marketing misstep that it wouldn't surprise me if Emil gets reprimanded for it before we even get into the implication of what he said.

Emil your voice is as good as God when it comes to the canon. You can't just say shit like that and expect it to go well. Especially considering the implications.

Speaking of the implications, I'm not mad about Nate being a war criminal. It's a coloring I actually would welcome if the games discussed concepts like Capitalism, Racism, and War in any meaningful way anymore. And if Emil also didn't say this.

Fallout's canon is rooted in reality. That is part of its whole thing. It's fun to do goofy shit like becoming the Silver Shroud and having a make believe superhero fight with the Mechanist or write a woman obsessed with Nuka Cola so much she traverses two games to basically kidnap the CEO's cryogenically preserved head so she can talk to him for all eternity, but the setting is very much rooted in reality.

You aren't dealing with fictional countries, you aren't dealing with fictional races, you aren't dealing with fictional hypotheticals. That is The Elder Scrolls job. You are dealing with actual countries, actual racism, actual history, and actual fucking politics. You have to be mindful of what you are doing and saying. You can't just do things because it's an interesting plot device without first thinking about the implications.

Fallout's world is a heightened version of our own, a path we seem to stumble towards with ever passing year unless we do something about it. It fucking sucks. I'm sure writing it feels like prophesizing the future and eats your soul a bit. It would mine. But that doesn't mean Fallout can just take a sharp left in terms of story and reality and get away with it.

To have Nate be the bystander Soldier and then meet him when he has a very good thing going for him (an expensive house during an inflation crisis, a robot butler, he gets into a vault for free for fucks sake) very much speaks to life rewarding him for his crimes. There is no hatred in his words when he looks at the flag of the country that made him kill innocents. His speech is speaks of remorse for leaving his family and the cycle of war, it does not speak of the horrors. Of watching you comrades bleed out in the Anchorage snow. Of the scream of shells overhead. Of the fear in civilians eyes as your buddy puts a bullet between them.

You all have to see how it looks like the man is fine with what he had to do during the war, right?

Not interacting with these concepts enough paints a picture of apathy and acceptance. In this day and age where being keeping the government honest and responsible for their actions is so important, that isn't going to slide without it being EXTREMELY purposeful, which it is not. It's tone deaf and lazy.

I respect a lot of what Emil has done in the past, but I am not above keeping him culpable when he has something so delicate in his hands. I hope this situation is what he needed to get his head on straight, or is the light bulb moment where he realizes he needs to pass the torch onwards. There is no shame in subject matter becoming too much as time goes on. There is shame in letting a previously critical series become the very thing it was criticizing.

He is going to keep getting dragged until he realizes that or he manages to convince the fans to be complicit in the degradation of setting. In doing so he is going to lose Bethesda most of its biggest fans who well and truly love the series and what it stands for.

But that's just my take, and I'm just a kid who studies polisci and history and can't shield myself from the inherent horror of nuclear war no matter how much I try.

War really never changes

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout new vegas #fallout 3 #fallout 2 #fallout tv series #fallout tv show #emil pagliarulo #bethesda

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dnsbarbie · 3 months

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DEAR READER | C.L 16 (FOUR)

Pairings: Charles Leclerc X Intern!OC

Warnings: Google translated French, degrading headline, people who don’t mind their own business

Note: There’s a reason I’m dragging the fuck out of this story. It’s gonna be worth it, I promise !!!!

❝Dear reader,

If it feels like a trap, you’re

already in one ❞

THE BRILLIANT ILLUMINATED ELEVATOR cradled through the rapidly infectious tension in Natalia’s bloodstream. The gap between her and the equally as anxious Monegasque caused the ongoing brawl in their heads to amplify. She glanced down at the carpeted flooring, casually shifting her gaze to the shuffling feet of her company.

She let her thoughts wonder somewhere else, opting to think about the disastrous path they had to conquer in order to acquire the tranquility they have at the moment. Although, her trembling hands and the intensive battering of her chest generated the thought that perhaps road raging in Charles’ Ferrari to avoid the prying eyes of the general public provided a greater deal of enjoyment than this.

“I was thinking,” Charles spoke, moistening his drought lips. “Since it’s your first time here in Netherlands, I’d like you to try authentic Dutch dishes from the restaurant the team took me to last year.”

Natalia nodded, half of her mind floating into a dreamless space. “That sound great,” She faced him, hoping to defy the rising tide of her anxiety. “I honestly didn’t know anything about Dutch culture until I did a quick research about their food.”

Charles didn’t contain his smile, finally looking at the brunette. His gaze journeyed to her luscious naturally straight chestnut locks, previously tied into a neat ponytail but was now released from the gathered style, falling graciously passed her shoulders.

He snapped back into his regular self as he reached the line of her eyes. Immediately saving himself as he followed up on her statement. “Oh? And what did you find?”

Charles despised the way she’d tuck her bottom lip in her every time she needed a second to gather her thoughts. Couldn’t she just think like a normal person?

“Apparently, there’s this food called Profferjes?” She struggled pronouncing the supposed name given to the delicacy she was referring to.

Charles’ face brightened in amusement at her confused appearance but he nevertheless, nodded, having an idea of what she was talking about.

“The mini pancakes?”

Rhapsody laved across her once perplexed expression, pointing a finger at his direction before confirming his guess.

“Yes! That one— but I think they only serve them in the morning,” She sighed, eyes lingering at Charles. A sudden concept bubbled in her mind, showing in her face as a small simper.

The judgement was also beginning to bloom on Charles’ face as he took note of the naught sparkle in Natalia’s orbs.

“Unless— you know—” She drawled her words, making the smile on the receiver of her antics widen. “Charles Leclerc were to call in—”

He disintegrated into a pile of frenzy at that. Clutching his stomach as his laughter, joined in by Natalia’s own, bounced uncontrollably against the four walls of the enclosed space.

“I’m not sure they’d do their beloved Max Verstappen’s rival a favor.” He acknowledged.

“Oh—right.” Natalia had completely forgotten that Max was Dutch. She knew Charles meant it as a joke but the harsh reality seemed to have overtaken its intended merits.

Then again, she was quick to dispel the impending depressive state. “You know, according to my research, Dutch people are very friendly even if they like speak their mind . . .”

An appreciative hum sounded at the back of Charles’ throat, thankful for her efforts of comfort and the ding of the elevator that indicated their arrival to his floor.

In an unconscious move, he reached for Natalia’s hand, grasping it gently in his. To which the latter responded by gawking at him while they both stalked through the nicely lit corridor.

Charles’ room was two doors away from the very last one, and when they arrived, he tapped in his key card, never seeming to have the intention of releasing the chilling palm that rested in his hold.

As the door opened, along with the grating creak of the door was the heightening of Natalia’s senses. The fresh scent of lavender infiltrated the previous musing scouring at her wits.

She inhaled the saving grace of her sanity, finding the soothing aroma also matched the overall aesthetic of his room.

The fuzzy brown carpet at the center of the room adorned the flooring, to which an oval glass coffee table was placed

“Sit wherever you want,” He said, freeing her hand. “Make yourself feel comfortable.”

As he started to walk away, Natalia bent down balancing her weight with her hand on the doorframe as she untied the laces of her boots.

Charles turned to her, hearing the sudden rustling. “You don’t have to take your shoes off,”

She immediately halted her actions, eyebrows wrinkled at the absurdity of all that. “There’s no way I’m stepping my shoes on a carpet,”

The crease in her eyebrows worsen at that thought of her mother. She could almost see the utter disgust on her face when she finds out Europeans don’t particularly care for what she called “unknown bacteria” spreading through their home.

She set her boots aside, plopping on the pearl colored seating. “My mom would’ve strangled you if she heard you say that,”

Her remark made Charles chuckle, shaking his head on his way to the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Depends.” She thought, reaching for a magazine on the coffee table. “What are you having?”

Natalia heard a series of cabinet creaking followed by clinks of what she assumed was glass.

“Well, of you’re craving something sweet, I have orange juice and iced tea,” He replied, peaking his head on the doorframe.

Charles took in the sight of Natalia’s wandering eyes on his apartment, ignoring the sudden pang of nervousness creeping up on him.

The curious girl whipped her head towards his waiting figure, lips pursing with a uncaring shrug. “I’m good with that. But if you want to drink something. . . stronger, I wouldn’t judge.”

She watched the chuckle bloom out of Charles’ relaxed features, before disappearing back into the kitchen.

While he was arranging beverages, Natalia reviewed what he had observed from his apartment.

Firstly, she found it surprising that he owned a living space in this country. Him always hopping on a jet to different countries every week, defeats the purpose of buying one. It didn’t look like he used it often either.

It had one of those minimal modern designs. Like the ones she’d see whenever she was at Summit Furniture, a furniture store she frequented at in Monaco. She currently sat on a white polyester loveseat with tapered rosewood legs that angled outwards. It all seemed like they’ve just been bought yesterday. No scratches on the wooden legs nor flaws in the fabric seating. Same goes for the rest of his furniture that she had seen so far.

The television looked like it had yet to serve its purpose and the tables be marked with any stain or evidences of usage.

Her deep observation caused a barricading and tension within her sense. The unbelievable tidiness and perfection of her surroundings made her more conscious of her actions.

“Here we are!” Charles’ unforeseen appearance rattled her core, prompting her to sit up straighter. He had brought a tray of various drinks.

Natalia eyed the colorful liquids in different types of glasses. Some in one in a high ball, champagne and cocktail glass. Beside those were a bottle of Heineken and Jenever.

She bit the inside of her cheek, trapping the laughter threatening to pull through, settling for a supportive nod.

“I’m guessing this is the orange juice?” She plucked the high ball glass from the tray, a teasing smile adorning her face.

“Yes, it is,” Charles took out his phone, the unwavering nerves still present in his veins. “I know I said I’ll order for you, but here’s the menu, you might see something you like—”

She raised his hands, shaking her head. “Trust me, the only food I’m sure are gonna be are Stroopwafel and those ball shaped snack I ate at the paddock. Besides, I’m not picky with food, I’ll swallow anything you give me.”

Charles’ thumbs stopped their typing, his lips thinning at the intrusive thought in his head.

Anything, huh?

“You’re disgusting—”

“I didn’t say—”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to! It’s written all over your face!” Natalia growled, motioning to the idiotic smirk hanging of his face across her.

“Think what you want,” Charles chimed, resuming his attention to his device. “That’s what I’m doing anyway hmpf—”

A soft object suddenly collided at his face, laughing as he realized that Natalia had thrown a pillow at him.

He removes it from obstructing his view, glancing up at the glowering figure in front of him, now bringing her lips close to the tall glass of juice.

“Give the phone. . .” She said, extending her arm forwards for Charles to pass her the device.

He hands it to her, inclining his body towards her. “I personally love Hachee, it’s meat with mash potatoes and gravy—”

“Frog legs!”

Charles stopped talking, staring stupidly at her exclamation. A wide smile plastered on her face as she turned the phone towards him and pointed to the certain dish.

“You eat frogs?” Charles didn’t mean for it to sound condescending, but the overpowering shock at this discovery halted all sense of thinking.

“Yeah? And?” At her defensive tone, Charles quickly held his hands up, waving them at her.

“No! That’s not what I mean!” He scratched the back of his head, hoping to ward away the embarrassment of his mistake. “I-I just mean, you’re the first girl I’ve met who’s actually excited to eating frogs,”

Natalia raised an eyebrow at Charles. “That can’t be true, frogs are eaten a lot in Manaco,”

“Doesn’t mean everybody likes them,” Charles remarked, taking the bottle opener from the table before twisting it on a Heineken beer.

Natalia watched him take a sip, crossing her arms at his statement. “You mean to say— of all the Monegasque girls you’ve dated— not a single one ate frogs?”

Charles felt amusement trickling at his through as he spotted the doubt on her face. “Well, I did let them try it.” He restored. “But they either pretended to like it or just straight up told me, quite frankly that they’d rather eat dirt.”

Natalia lights up at that, bringing her hands together in an mirthful clap. “At least some were honest about it,”

Charles nodded, glancing up at her as he began to wonder wether or not he should consume more alcohol to gain the courage to ask her questions that may be deemed too personal. Threading lightly on the subject, he reached for the Daquiri, giving in to its undeniable seductive calling.

“Is it a common food in the Philippines?” He asked, eyes traveling to the curvature of her expression.

Natalia’s lips disconnected from the cold glass rim, licking away the numbness spreading through her mouth. “Not exactly all over the country, but in my province, we do eat it a lot,” A mirror of nostalgia passes by her eyes, slotting in the depths of her memories.

Charles observed as she spaced out, blankly staring at the wooden coffee table. Instead of snapping her out of her trans, he waited patiently for her to regain her train of thought.

Blinking rapidly, the fog of her brain slowly disappeared, a large intake of breath released from her lungs before she cleared her throat.

As she craned her neck back to the person she was talking to, her heart lurched at her throat at the intensity of his stare. His eyes were drowned in unbelievable intent, as if she’d disappear if he was to look away.

“Let’s play that game again,” He said, softly.

“What?”

“That game in the car. 20 questions,” He clarified, tilting his head at her, “I want to play it again.”

Dread filled her mind, mouth beginning to ache, along with the slight tremble of her voice. “Why?”

“We’re going to spend a lot of time together,” He pointed out. “I’ve know you for quite a while but I don’t know anything about you. . .”

“There’s nothing to know,” She huffed, eyebrows coming together in a pinch. “My life isn’t interesting in the slightest.”

Charles narrowed his eyes at her, careful not to overstep. “I’ll ask basic questions then,”

She scrunched her face up at him. “Like what?”

With his eyes on her, he shrugged. “How did you end up in Monaco?”

“That’s not—” She sighed, pulsing her palms into an alternating clench. Her hands came up to snatch the beer off the table, taking a large gulp of it.

This was not a good idea from the start but then again, she made no complaints about it either.

Setting the bottle down with a loud clank, she tuts at his waiting figure. “I applied for the scholarship grant, almost failed the final interview, found out I didn’t, and— lo and behold, I’m here.”

The vagueness of her answer made Charles roll his eyes. “You almost failed? Why?” He questioned.

Natalia frowned at him, wagging her finger up at his line of vision. “No—no, it’s my turn,”

Charles sighed, defeated, downing a shot of tequila as the former thought of her first question. “Who’s your favorite sibling?”

Taken aback, he smiled at her random choice of words. “I don’t have one,”

His answer was met by a judgmental glance. “Boo! Everybody has one. Come on!”

Hesitation reeled him in with the desire to end thos query immediately. So, with all the shame warped into a giant ball in his heart. Je all but murmured a name.

“Sorry, say that again?” He could practically feel the teasing smirk on her face as she neared her ear on his mouth.

His eyes fluttered close, amusement and annoyance dancing at his veins. “I said, Arthur—”

She laughed, finding his imminent torture to have soothe her pounding heart. “Don’t feel bad, it’s pretty obvious anyway,”

At that, Charles didn’t indulge in her usual provocative style. Instead, thwacking her back with another personal question.

“What do your parents to for a living?”

She coughed, the sharp taste of alcohol pricking at her throat as it violently drew back to her nose.

“Are you okay?” The concern etched visible at the lines of Charles’ face as he stood up to hand her a tissue. He sat next to her, plucking more out of the box as she attempted to stop the liquid pouring out from her nostrils.

She gratefully took the tissue from him, blowing her nose into it. She would’ve found it embarrassing as she heard the disgusting noise it made as she emptied her now stinging nose of the culprit if it weren’t for her spinning mind.

She wiped her jeans, trying to play it cool as she responded. “My parents— My mom was an accountant and my dad— he. . . used to trade oil.”

Charles peaked onto her face, wiping of the remnants of beer on her cheek. “What’s wrong with that?”

Natalia swallowed the painful block of her throat, hand coming up to where he had his on her face. “Nothing. . . I-it’s not their jobs. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask about my parents.”

“We—”

The loud ringing of a phone interrupted their conversation. Natalia felt the vibration in her bag before she realized it was hers.

This dispelled the heavy ambiance of the atmosphere, waking the occupants from their trance.

Oh shit, Natalia thought as she saw the caller’s name flash on her phone.

Nicolas Todt

As soon as she pressed the green button signifying her death, the device was gone, only to be taken by the tutting Monegasque beside her.

She immediate shuffled up, desperately trying to get the phone out of his grip. It was too late, however, as he stood up at the sound of his manager’s voice.

Deflating in defeat, Natalia hopelessly smothered her head on the soft cushion’s of the couch.

“Hello?”

“What are yo— Hello? Charles? Is that you?”

Natalia winced at the pure hostility in Nicolas’ tone. Even after figuring out that the taker of the call was indeed his well-loved client, it didn’t quell the scorching heat of his flaming outrage.

“Oui c'est moi. Quoi de neuf?” Yes, it’s me. What’s up?

In contrast to Charles’ collected attitude, Natalia could feel her insides churning slowly into a blob of mush. Her only wish was for Charles not to ruin this job for her was beggining to whither away with the his careless actions.

“Quoi de neuf?” What’s up? Nicolas echoed, his sharp scoff going through the phone’s speaker and stabbing Natalia directly in the deepest part of her chest.

“Vous n'avez pas vérifié votre téléphone?” He spat, as it were acid poured on his tongue.

At the word phone, Natalia’s head shot up from the condoling compressor of her resting place, panicking as she searched for her phone.

The cumulus fog accumulating her head, clouded the clarity of her thinking, making her forget that someone else had possessed the thing she was looking for.

Charles nodded along to the string of profanities Nicolas kept rambling through his ear, shifting her attention to the frightened girl on his couch. Her heightened vigilance evident as trembling her hands patted wildly along his furniture.

He aided her frantic movements with a soft brush of his hand on her cheek, tapping his thumb on her paled skin.

Natalia whipped her head around to face him, breathing out of sigh of relief as she followed his finger pointing to his phone.

Wasting no time, she snagged it off the table, nearly shoving it on Charles’ face when it demanded a passcode after failing the face recognition system.

Charles careened his head backwards to avoid the object barreling into his face.

Natalia waited, anxiously fiddling with the stitchings of her clothing, as the daunting atmosphere worsened every second that passed by.

She almost tore Charles’ entire arm from his body by the vast amount of force she exerted at him. Quickly tapping on Google app, her hands shook as they hovered over the keys, thoughts failing to conjure words she needed.

“Charles Leclerc girlfriend. . .” A whisper came next to her.

She gritted her teeth at the awful joke. Perhaps as knew it wasn’t an impossible headline. It dawned to her the severity of their offense as she typed his name on the search bar.

It appears that her groan of indignation was loud enough for Nicolas’ ears as Natalia heard his mocked version of it despite being on Charles’ space.

“Did you see it?” Nicolas queried, his tone unreadable.

Natalia turned the screen to Charles’ vision. And the idiot had the audacity to laugh.

Merely hacking into his balled fist, the presence of his teeth behind his lips irritated both Nicolas and Natalia.

In disgustingly big letters, the headline read:

Natalia swiped at the screen, ticking her brow in victory as the smile drained visibly off his face at what she had shown.

“Now, that’s not funny. . .”

You don’t say. . .” She gritted, padding a hand on her chest to feign shock.

Charles offered her an apologetic pat on the head of the sneering girl. The latter slapped his hand away, force firm but not enough to do any harm.

Natalia could hear the faint murmurs of Nicolas before his voice was amplified by Charles’ simple tap of the speaker phone.

“Listen, both of you,” He commended. “Gossip magazines aren’t exactly fond of what ever it is you’re doing.”

“I am so sorry—”

“You are not.” The dripping venom in his tone made Natalia flinch back, leaning away from the source of his voice as if he were to pop out of the screen. “I don’t know what you were both thinking but luckily social media loved your little rendezvous.”

Silence fell between the scolded individuals, eyes creeping up to see the other’s reaction. Like staring directly at a mirror, they alined body language that could only be read as confusion.

“So. . . That means?” Natalia trailed, leveling her vocals in light of steering clear of another possible volcanic eruption from Nicolas.

“It means. . .” Nicolas pressed, annoyance still present. “You have to continue your. . . what you call it?”

Natalia listen intently as Nicolas asked someone for the word he was searching for. “The what? Oh— yes that. . . Your situationship.”

“Ew no!” Natalia’s extreme protest was met with sheer bewilderment on Charles’ part, struggling to process the meaning of the foreign term.

“What is that? What’s a situationship?”

At his question, Natalia stirred back to him, giving him a look of disbelief. Nicolas on the other hand simply clicked his tongue, sighing brfore supplying the answer to his client.

“They’re two people who have no sense of direction regarding their relationship.” He explained, and though he cannot see the expression on Charles’ face, he knew very well what it was.

“Is that a bad thing?”

Natalia’s jaw slackened, palm slapping on his forehead. And although she knew Nicolas’ explanation of situationship was a fairly watered down version of the real deal, she didn’t have the strength to further Charles’ knowledge on the subject.

Nicolas ignored his question. “We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. I advise you to not step out of that building until daylight.”

Natalia’s eyes widened at that. “What? You want me to stay here?”

“Certainly.” He concluded.

Sensation drained completely from her body. The electric feeling of lacking blood, slowly spread in an infectious manner. With it, the chill of reality came to set in.

“I’ve already informed Toto of the situation.”

As if it wasn’t enough, after hearing that, the lavender scent of the atmosphere that was thought to have the a calming effect seemed impotent, in comparison to the vigorous hold this ghastly chain of anxiety had on her.

Of all the things she feared, the idea of disappointing Toto Wolff and Susie Wolff was an absolute nightmare. How could she face the people who gave her the opportunity of a life time if she were to do dim-witted things like this?

In the midst of her internal battle, her head stirred to the cause of her misbehavior. He just so happened to be looking at her as well.

Unlike the pointed glare she blatantly jabbed into his face, Charles offered her a worried glance that could bloom flowers on his pretty little head.

Despite her scornful demeanor, she couldn’t shake away the guilt of being in this position. She was aware that it wasn’t Charles’ fault alone but perhaps putting all the blame in him would ease her desire to simply jump on a boat and abandon everything she ever dreamed in her life.

Natalia recoiled at the sudden warmth on her arm. Look towards the source, she relaxed at the sight of Charles’ hand on her skin.

He had ended the call, sitting back down on his previous place. “How do you want to do this?”

Natalia heaved a heavy sigh, afraid that the force might collapse her lungs. “I honestly can’t think of anything else but being fired. . .”

Charles took her hand in a grip that he could only hope held the comfort he was trying to induce. “You won’t. I’m the reason you’re here. I’ll talk to them.”

“You better. . .” She huffed, shoving a strong palm at his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be able to look my classmates in the eye when I have to go back to University, though.”

“When do you have to go back?” He asked.

“In three days. We have to submit a report every two weeks regarding our performance.” She expounded, thinking about the sour look on her headmaster’s face at the sight of his achingly popular student walking in her office.

“Well, in that case, you can say that you helped me increase my fanbase by 2% in just three weeks.” Charles tried to provide a consolation.

Natalia hummed, lips curling as she was reminded of that information. “You make it sound like I’m a one-man team. . .” She shook her head.

She was sure that Charles’ PR team wouldn’t appreciate her taking all the credit for the improvements in the Ferrari driver’s personal accounts.

“Probably not. But most of it was your idea.”

It was intended to aid the boisterous voices crowding the little space left in her brain that wasn’t consumed by the nauseating noise of failure but alas proved to be ineffective as she abruptly stood up and took her phone from Charles’ lap.

Tapping the number she knew would cover the gaping hole of fear continuously scraping at her brain.

She watched as her phone started ringing, the name of her partner in crime flashing on the screen.

Lissie

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 #charlos #ferrari #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x y/n #landoscar #charles leclerc smut

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ineedlelittlespace · 3 months

Note

for the character ask game: Peri "ART" helion

Send Me a Character

First impression

"You were lucky." sent a legit chill through my bones. As a concept, a sentient, overpowered spaceship is ten kinds of terrifying, and those first few moments that we experience with Murderbot are a little terrifying, too.

Impression now

ART is indeed still terrifying, but more in the way of those rescue tigers you see in YouTube videos that goof around like housecats and look a little offended afterwards when they don't quite manage to maintain their apex predator dignity. I love how much it loves its people, even as it delights in exasperating the hell out of them.

Favorite moment

The screaming match it has with Murderbot in Network Effect shortly before MB locks itself in the bathroom. They're both under so much stress, both so worried about the people they love, and on top of it all, they're both navigating the painful waters of their first-ever friendship fight (something neither of them has ever had to face separately, let alone with each other). It's such a big growth moment (even if the growth is more growing pains than anything else).

Idea for a story

So...I just started reading the Temeraire series...And ART gives me the most intense dragon vibes. I'm not usually one for AUs, but...

Unpopular opinion

I don't know that it's really an unpopular opinion, but I do fully believe that ART is significantly meaner/more ruthless than the actual Murderbot in the friendship. Murderbot does what it needs to in order to win the fight its engaged in. Unless it's been provoked in the extreme, it isn't going to use an ounce more violence than necessary. Meanwhile, ART goes straight for the nuclear option in basically every aspect of its life because it likes to get its own way. And I LOVE that for it.

Favorite relationship

The little family unit it's formed with Seth, Martyn, and Iris! It has clearly grown up a beloved gifted child of two adoring parents, and that is the sweetest start in life I've ever read for a manmade lifeform.

Favorite headcanon

If its loose bookkeeping and even the way it met Murderbot in the first place is any example, I fully believe that ART gets up to all sorts of mildly(?) illegal mischief when its crew isn't looking. No rules can contain it, thank you very much.

#thank you so much for the ask friend! <3 #murderbot #the murderbot diaries #asshole research transport #ask games

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chervbs · 1 year

Text

i was made for loving you — e. munson

pairings: eddie munson x jade west!reader

word count: 5k

synopsis: you’re the new kid at hawkins high-goth, intimidating;a true femme fatale incarnate. and eddie munson is undoubtedly smitten.

warnings: fem!reader, jade west is not meant to be an oc/faceclaim just inspiration for the readers personality therefore reader is kind of rude to all characters including eddie, you probably won’t understand this as well if you haven’t watched victorious, kind of love at first sight but its really just eddie being dramatic, reader is hot and she knows it, slight sexual implications (blink and you’ll miss it), mediocre writing, fluff!

a/n: jade west was one of my many bisexual awakenings and i’ve always wanted to write something with a character inspired by her. like I said in the warnings, this may not make as much sense if you haven’t seen victorious but its still readable! also pls pls pls send requests/concepts about jade west!reader because I wanna write more of her so badly! as always, feedback is treating appreciated <3

navigation

Eddie had noticed the murmurs as soon as he stepped into the school, just in time for his third period.

He was trying to be better this year, he really was, but his late night smoke session the night before had relaxed a little too much, and he’d slept right through his alarm clock. Eddie only woke up once Wayne got home at around 8, yelling at his nephew to get his ass up and to school unless he wanted to go through a fourth senior year. The threat was enough to get him out of bed, stumbling as he attempted to put his white reeboks on while simultaneously hopping into his van.

Now, strolling down the hallway to his locker, trusty black “lunch” tin in his hands, he realized he forgot to grab his denim vest from the backseat where he’d haphazardly thrown it the day before. He groaned and glanced at his watch-9:27, three minutes before he had to be in English. He could risk being a couple minutes late.

Eddie, ignoring the usual dirty looks he received from his peers by just existing, pivoted on his heels, making his way back out to the parking lot. It was then that he initially noticed the whispers as people emerged from the front doors of the school.

Now, Eddie was very much used to such things in his wake, however, these weren’t for him. As he neared the exit, he noticed all of the students that were whispering were also pointing outside. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Eddie sped up his steps, eyes squinting as he adjusting to the sunlight and looking around for the source of the gossip.

It didn’t take long to find you–you stuck out like a sore thumb.

In your hair were streaks of blue and purple jewel tones, a tight fitting black top that did wonders for your chest, a black skirt that Eddie was sure was far too short for school. Your shapely legs were encased with black fishnets and as his eyes traveled further down your figure, knee high black boots that had silver buckles running down the length of them and a platform that added a good couple of inches to your height sat on your feet.

Murmurs of gossip followed you as you weaved through the parking lot, but Eddie was frozen in his place, certain he’d just seen an angel. An angel clad in all black–a demon, maybe? Either way, he was entranced.

It wasn’t until he realized that you were heading straight towards him that he snapped out of his stupor. He had to say something–introduce himself, right? Eddie could feel his heart racing as you came closer to reaching him. What should he say? And–oh god, you were even prettier close up–

“Hi!” He didn’t even realize he blurted the word out until his ears picked up on it a few seconds too late.

Your steps never faltered as you passed him, but he did see your eyes rake over his figure, the corner of your lips lifting into a smirk. “Interesting.” You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

By then, Eddie’s mission to retrieve his vest had long since been forgotten. It wasn’t until the bell rang that the metal head realized he was stood frozen at the entrance, the other kids around him sending him weird looks. He practically floated to his next two classes, little images of you occupying his every thought.

Eddie didn’t even realize he’d left his class until he landed on the hard plastic of the cafeteria seats. The rest of the Hellfire Club was already seated, heads snapping to attention at their dungeon masters abrupt appearance. They were all quick to notice his dazed expression, Gareth taking the initiative to snap his fingers in front of his face.

“Yo, Eddie? You okay, man?”.

He did seem to return back to reality, but the dopey smile on his face stayed put. “Gentlemen,” He spoke indirectly. “I’m in love.”

The boys perked up in interest. “In love? With who?” Dustin asked, nearly pushing his lunch tray aside.

Eddie didn’t get the chance to answer before a hush fell over the hoard of students in the cafeteria. They didn’t know why until Eddie heard the tell tale sound of your boots hitting the floor, the whispers as murmurs picking back up as you passed by.

He could see the moments his friends also laid eyes on you, jaws falling slack as the girl of all of their little metal head dreams walked in. Eddie couldn’t help but smirk.

“With her.” He grinned. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked right up to the lunch line, the queue of teenagers parting for you like the Red Sea. Not a single person protested as you skipped in front of all of them, paying for your lunch without a care in the world.

They watched you make your way down the middle of the rows of tables, only stopping once a letterman clad arm flung itself across your shoulders.

You tensed, eyes narrowing in anger. Jason Carver gave you what you assumed he thought was a charming smirk, jerking his head in greeting. “Hi, there. You’re new, right?”

You glared at arm and then moved your gaze to his. “Hand. Off.”

Jason’s grin faltered, but he was quick to recover. “Oh, c’mon, new girl. Don’t be like that. Why don’t you come sit with me and my buddies, huh?” He spoke while bring his free hand to your other shoulder, attempting to steer you towards his table.

“I would rather slam my tongue in a car door.” You replied monotonously. “And if you don’t get your hands off me in the next two seconds, you won’t have hands.”

The jock seemed to finally realize that you were not going to be relenting anytime soon and scoffed. “Whatever. You don’t have to be such a–“

Jason cut himself off, realizing your glare on him had become deadly and you were practically white knuckling the tray of food in your hands. You tilted your head challengingly. “A what? Do you wanna finish that sentence?”

He clenched his jaw, the only thing keeping the blonde teen from cowering in front of his peers being his pride. Clearly his throat, he stepped away, hands raising in surrender and returning to his table with his tail between his legs.

You hummed in satisfaction, resuming your search for a table to sit at. Most new kids would probably find an empty table or maybe even a group of friendly enough looking kids to sit with. You, however, refused to let anyone think you were some kind of loser.

Finally your eyes landed on a table full of boys. They all wore variations of black clothing, save for the three younger looking ones who had a bit more color on them. Each had on matching white shirts with words you couldn’t read from your spot and a cartoon demon on them. You grew curious, especially after you realized the boy at the head of the table was the one you’d seen this morning.

You remember him standing at the entrance of the school, looking at you like a kid in a candy store. He was quite cute, clad in leather with an attractively disheveled look to him.

Making your decision, you changed course to the group of boys who’d all been previously looking at your until they realized you were staring back, wide eyes shifting to their food.

It’s clear they were a tad bit frightened, none of them looking up to acknowledge your presence when you stopped behind them. Rolling your eyes, you loudly cleared your throat, making them jump in their seats.

“H-hi.” The supposed leader of them spoke, looking just as flustered as his did that morning. “What, um–what can we do for you?”

“I’m gonna sit here.” You announced, glancing down at the blonde boy with curly hair in front of you. “Move over.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He squeaked, shoving at the boy next to him until they had both scooted over a seat.

The spot allowed you to sit next to the long haired boy from that morning. He kept stealing quick glances at you, the skin on his cheeks shifting from ivory to red at your burning gaze.

“Um…m-miss?” Your head snapped to the boy in front of you, curly brunette hair and slightly tan skin clad in a colorful cap and the same shirt as his friends, which you could now see read Hellfire Club.

“It’s Y/N.” You corrected.

The boy visibly gulped. “Right. Y/N. Its um-it’s great to meet you, really. And not that we mind you sitting with us–we really don’t!” He almost yelled, startling when you narrowed your eyes at him. “But, w-why…are you sitting with us?” He asked in a high voice.

You popped one of the french fries from your plate into your mouth. “You losers seem like the coolest people here.”

The oxymoron wasn’t lost on them, but they were admittedly too frightened to point it out.

“What’s hellfire club?” You asked, pointing your black painted fingernail at their shirts.

“It’s a DnD club.” The long haired boy spoke up. There was a tremble in his voice. “Dungeons and Dragons? Ever h-heard of it?”

The beginnings of your eyebrows moved closer together, the fire in your gaze making Eddie feel simultaneously afraid and a little turned on. “Do I look like a nerd to you?”

His eyes widened a bit, the depth of his brown eyes making him resembled a baby cow. “No, of course not! You look like the exact opposite of a nerd, in fact! You’re like the coolest person i’ve ever seen!”

The other boys had never seen Eddie act so flustered, yet they couldn’t blame him. Your presence alone was enough to bring a grown man to his knees, that much was evident. Eddie looked about three seconds away from passing out and they were sure he was already willing to bend to your will.

You only tilted your head curiously at the boy. There was no one at your old school that seemed to be as affected as this guy was. Even your ex boyfriend, who swore up and down that he was in love with you, never had the same twinkle in his eye as the cute metal head in front of you.

“What’s you’re name?”

If you gave credit where credit was due, the boy never broke his stare from yours. That also never happened. You were surprised at how much you enjoyed it.

He perked up, a little grin forming. “Eddie.” You raised your eyebrows. “Munson! Eddie Munson.” He added breathlessly.

The deep berry shade painted on your lips was so alluring that Eddie was practically leaning forward. The younger boys in Hellfire were half surprised he wasn’t drooling.

“I like you, Eddie Munson.” You nodded at your own words, going back to eating your lunch nonchalantly.

Oh yeah. Eddie thought. In love was an understatement.

“You’re in a band?”

Eddie jumped, startled by your voice. He’d made an offhand comment at lunch that Hellfire was held in the Drama Club room, but he hadn’t actually expected you to show up.

You weren’t even sure why you had, truthfully. Maybe it was the his big, chocolate doe eyes, or the way he looked at you like you were sent from heaven, despite the fact that not only had you only had a couple of conversations, but also that you were as far from an angel as anyone could possibly be.

And, maybe, because you had no friends.

Getting ripped from your old school where you were comfortable with your group of friends was difficult, not that you’d ever let it be known. This little group of misfit kids already looked at you like you were their savior, so you feel it’s justified to claim them as your new friends. And you weren’t too concerned about their low position in the social hierarchy of Hawkins–you had enough of a social standing to keep their heads above the water.

You were facing the wall adjacent to the door, staring at one of the many handmade posters throughout the school that read CORRODED COFFIN. There was a picture of Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Kevin, all posed with their respective instruments and smaller letters at the bottom saying to go see them Tuesdays at The Hideout.

“Uh-yeah. Me and some of the guys from Hellfire you met the other day. Jeff, Gareth and Kev.” He explained, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. Eddie couldn’t fathom why he was feeling embarrassed right now-as if your approval of his band would make or break anything.

You let your lips form a tiny smirk, looking over your shoulder at him. “Sick name.”

Eddie could feel his heart skip, heat rushing back to his cheeks. “T-thanks. Came up with it myself.” He chuckled. “We actually play at the Hideout on Tuesdays.”

He noticed your eyebrow raised expectantly. “The Hideout! It’s a bar just outside of town. The crowds not that big, but you gotta start somewhere, right?”

You hummed in agreement, strolling over to where he was setting up the table. Eddie’s breath hitched as you stopped next to him, standing so close that he could smell your vanilla perfume, almost making him lightheaded. Did you even have a clue of what you were doing to him?

Of course, you did. You’d been trying to get Eddie to take the hint that you were into him for the past week. Five whole days of lingering touches, sultry stares and being extra pleasant just to see his cheeks and the tips of his ears turn red.

You bent over the table to pluck one of the little figures from the game board, ensuring that you back was perfectly straight to feed fuel to Eddie’s fantasies.

Judging by the nearly inaudible groan that escaped him, you’d say you were successful.

“What are these?” You allow the tone of your voice to drop an octave, the sound more alluring than Eddie could handle.

His brain seems to short circuit for a second, glazed over eyes staring back at you blankly, jaw hanging open slightly. Smirking, your lift a finger, pushing up the bottom of his chin until his lips met. The action seemed to pull him back into reality, clearing his throat once he realized what he opened.

“Tho-those? Those are-um…figurines! I made them for my campaign.” He choked out, backing up a little. “Helps the players feel more immersed into the story.”

You held the little figure out for him to grab, making sure to graze your fingers against his palm as you gave it to him. A shiver visibly went down his spine.

“I gotta get going.” You inform, already making your way to the door.

Eddie chased you a few steps. “Wait! Are you sure you have to go? You can always stay and watch us play. Or we can teach you and you can join our next campaign.”

You’d never admit how much the offer warmed your heart. The boys were sweet-Eddie even sweeter. It’s like you could feel them slowly taking an ice pick to your frozen heart.

“No can do.” You tsked. “I have an audition to get to.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed under his curly fringe. “Audition? For what?”

“Spring musical.” You shrugged.

You could almost feel the surprised wafting off of Eddie. “Really?” He asked incredulously. “Didn’t really peg you for a theatre type.”

A chuckle left your lips. “Well, I’m a woman of many talents, Eddie. And you don’t know me.” You reminded him, trying not to let the assumption upset you.

The culture shock of moving from a performing arts high school in Los Angeles to a normal high school in the middle of nowhere Indiana was truly jarring. Not only were peoples differences accepted back home, but they were encouraged. It didn’t matter what you looked like or what your interests were as long as you weren’t hurting anyone.

You’d possessed a gift for the performing arts since you were a kid, so it was a no brainer for your parents to enroll you into a performing arts high school, despite it being an hour drive. Your mother just wanted was your best for you and your father wanted what was best for your families reputation.

They’d split up halfway through your sophomore year, and while your father still sent monthly checks to help pay for school fees, your mother was struggling to pay the rent for your new two bedroom house.

She’d always wanted you to be successful when you got older especially after the divorce. Having to depend on someone else just to live was fine and dandy until you were kicked to the curb, left to fend for yourself with only a couple thousand dollars to your name.

Your incident at school only gave your mother a reason to leave California, choosing instead to move to Hawkins which had both a few family members and a lower cost of living.

Eddie’s chin dropped as he grinned at the floor. “Guess you’re right about that one. We could change that?”

Both of you seemed equally surprised at the suaveness of his offer and the fact that he got through it without stuttering.

You smirked. “We could. Not tonight.”

The heavy steps of your boots echoed as you made your way out of the room, Eddie left to watch your hips sway with flushed cheeks and a racing heart.

You were becoming impatient.

Two weeks had gone by and yet Eddie still hadn’t made a move. It was a bit infuriating, to say the least. You were practically always all over him, and while it was obvious he welcomed the attention, he still hadn’t gotten passed being flustered.

You really didn’t know what else to do, never having been in this situation before.

You didn’t ask people out, people asked you. With past boyfriends, they’d ask you out within a couple of days if you showing interest. But you’d met Eddie’s friends, you’d attended both Hellfire meetings and Corroded Coffin shows, he practically melted into the floor anytime you said his name. What was holding him back?

These questions were constantly on your mind, especially during times like these, when you walked through the school hallways together, so close that your knuckles grazed his as you walked.

Eddie and you share a fifth period, as you discovered on that fateful first day. You’re nearly to the classroom when you both spot a crowd forming in the middle of the hallway, murmurs of ‘cheerleaders’ and ‘hellfire freaks’. It’s enough to send you stomping towards them.

Sure enough, once you’ve shoved your way past the crowd, you spot a trio of cheerleaders cornering Dustin and Mike against the row of lockers. There’s a singular jock standing a few feet away and it takes you a second to realize he’s holding back Lucas by his biceps.

You don’t bother to listen to what the main cheerleader is cackling about before you slide yourself in between her and the freshman.

“Hello.” You interject. Her face calls for a second and you detect a bit of fear before she sticks up her chin with feigned indifference.

“Hi!” She grins back, like she hadn’t just been terrorizing a couple of fourteen year olds. “You’re the new girl, right? I’m Victoria.”

You smirk back and introduce yourself, reveling in the way her cronies seem to tremble in your presence. Even the jock had let go of Lucas, though neither of them moved.

“What seems to be the problem here?” You asked politely. You heard Eddie snicker.

“Oh, nothing really.” She replied, waving her hand dismissively. “Just had to remind the freshman of their place. You get it, right?”

You had no doubt that the confrontation stemmed from a smart remark by Dustin, maybe even Mike. But you’d taken Eddie and his band of losers under your wing, and you were nothing if not loyal.

“Can I just say,” You ignore her question. “You’re really pretty.”

She seemed surprised, but still held a hand to her heart like it was the sweetest compliment she’d ever received. “Oh, my gosh, really? Thanks.”

It didn’t escape you that she hadn’t bothered to return the compliment, not that you needed it. “Totally. And your hair is just so nice.” You say, gesturing to her long, clearly unnatural, blonde ponytail. “It would really be a shame if something happened to it, huh?”

Her face fell. “What?”

“Yeah. Like if someone, I don’t know, took a pair of scissors and just-“ You made a cutting motion with your fingers. “Chopped it all off.”

Victoria scowled, suddenly realizing the insincerity of your kindness. “Are you threatening me?”

You tilted your head to the side, shrugging. “Do I need to be?”

The cheerleader huffed. “Look. I don’t know what your problem is-“

“Oh, don’t worry. We’re getting there.” You assure. “You’re gonna leave these boys alone. Do you understand me?“

Victoria scoffed, looking back to her friends for help. One of them had witnessed your collection of scissors after asking you for a pencil. She rapidly shook her head at her friend.

“And what’s gonna happen if I don’t?” She challenged. The roll of your eyes was almost involuntary.

“Oh, my god.” You groaned. “Did you not just hear me? Did all that bleach in your hair burn the little brain cells you had?” Your face neared hers threateningly. Her eyes widened in fear and you could hear her breathing pick up. “Leave these kids alone, or I will be forced to make good on my promise. Do you understand me?”

She hesitantly nodded. “Good. Now get out of my face.” She seemed frozen in her spot. “Now!” Your voice boomed, startling everyone in the crowd that had gathered around you. Christina sprinted away, her friends not far behind her.

You sighed. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom before class.” You turn to Eddie, amusingly aware of the dazed look in his eyes as he stared at you. “I’ll meet you in there?”

You were walking away before Eddie could respond.

Eddie, along with Dustin, Lucas and Mike watched as you glided away, mouths hung open and hearts in their eyes.

“Eddie?” The metal head responded with a half-assed noise of acknowledgment. “If you don’t make a move, I will.” Dustin said.

“Not a chance, Henderson.”

Eddie didn’t think his day could get any worse.

He’d already bombed his history test, forgotten his money for lunch, had chocolate milk spilled on his shirt, and now his piece of shit van wasn’t starting.

Wayne had been telling him for days to go to the garage to get it looked at after Eddie told him it had been taking a few seconds too long to start up. His uncle had worked there before leaving to work at the plant, but they still gave the Munson’s discounts whenever they came in.

But Eddie had been swamped with homework and his new campaign for Hellfire, and it had just slipped his mind.

Unfortunately, there would be no time for another reminder as his engine pitifully sputtered before eventually shutting down.

“Shit!” Eddie cursed, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel angrily.

He would call the garage to come tow the van, but he didn’t know the number by heart. He’d stayed after school for mandatory tutoring forced upon him by the counselor, so it was well passed 6.

Wayne had probably already left for work, which left Eddie to try and think of literally anyone’s number until he found someone who could pick him up.

Eddie begrudgingly left the van, dragging his feet to the schools outside phone. He only made it about halfway when he heard the double doors open. He was surprised to see you walk out, and he made his surprise known by calling out your name.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up, eyebrows furrowing when you realized it was him. “Eddie? What are still doing here?”

“Uh,” He chuckled a little, kicking a bit of gravel. “I had to stay after for tutoring, and now my van won’t start, so…” He glanced up, clearing his throat. You were gazing at him with an unreadable look in your eyes, and it was difficult for him not to squirm. “What-um…what are you doing here so late?”

You pointed your thumb behind you, gesturing to the doors that a few other students were now exiting. “Callbacks.”

“Oh, yeah! You had auditions the other day.” He grinned, snapping his fingers in recognition.

You couldn’t help the way your lips turned up, not in a smirk, but a genuine show of bashfulness. You’d be lying if you said Eddie’s presence was beginning to have an affect on you as well. At first it was just nice to have someone so blatantly infatuated with you, but it wasn’t long before you realized just how easy it was to enjoy everything about Eddie.

He was sweet, even when you couldn’t help but snap and say something rude or defensive. Old habits die hard and your abandonment issues made some of them even harder to shake. Still, Eddie never even flinched, and in just a few weeks of knowing each other, he’d easily figured out exactly what to say to calm you down.

Eddie was also deeply misunderstood, which you connected with on a deeper level that most even knew. When you claimed the Hellfire boys as your new friends, you were none the wiser of the rumors of them being a satanic cult. It wasn’t until later that same day that you heard it for the first time and you almost laughed out loud. None of those boys had the capability to hurt even a fly, much less perform a human sacrifice.

“What was the musical again?” He asked, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You chuckled, “Grease.” Neither of you realized that you had both subconsciously moved closer to each other.

“Right! You make it in?” Eddie had yet to hear you sing, but he had a feeling you were most likely extremely talented. You just had that air about you-something he could recognize as a musician himself.

He was slightly surprised to see a genuine smile appear on your face. “Yeah,” You replied, your heeled left foot crossing over your right to hold your weight. “Rizzo.”

Eddie nodded but you could see the bit of confusion swimming in his eyes. Not shocking–Eddie didn’t really seem like the type to enjoy musical theater.

“You have no idea what I’m talking about.” The words came out more like a statement than a question and the two of you laughed a little. The sound that you made nearly made his knees buckle.

“Honestly, no.” Eddie grinned. The little scrunch of his nose and the flush across his cheeks sent a funny feeling floating through your tummy. “But I have no doubt you deserve the role more than anyone. And I can’t wait to watch.”

The amused expression hadn’t left your face and you lowered your chin, eyes slightly narrowed. “You would willingly go watch a school musical?”

Eddie shrugged nonchalantly. “If you’re in it? ‘Course. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”

In that moment, it was like a switch flipped in your brain. From the outside, Eddie couldn’t tell that there were a million thoughts swarming around in your brain. Suddenly, any morsel of patience you had left waiting for Eddie to make a move vanished.

“You said your van won’t start?” He looked a little confused at the subject change, but nodded regardless.

“Yeah, that’s what I came over here for.” Eddie told you, pointing back at the schools phone. “Was gonna call someone to come get me.”

You silently weighed your options, before making a decision.

“I could give you a ride.” You said, eyes peering at Eddie with thinly veiled mischief.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised and he smiled in surprise. “Really? Yeah, that would be great, thanks.” He hoped he didn’t look as nervous to be in a small, enclosed space alone with you, even for just the few minutes it would take to get to the trailer park.

He followed you to your car, hesitating a bit to climb into the passenger seat. The first couple minutes of the ride were silent, but not uncomfortable, until he spoke up. “I can get you some gas money. Just need to do a few more sales.”

You frowned and shook your head, waving a dismissive hand at him. “You don’t need to do that. I offered to give you a ride, I don’t need gas money.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond when you suddenly pulled over to the side of the road. “What are you doing?”

“Speaking of gas.” You say, calm as ever. “Looks like we’re out.”

Eddie looked a little panicked and instinctively glanced at the dashboard. His eyebrows furrowed. “The gauge says you have a full tank.”

“Yeah, try not to talk.”

He didn’t have time to even be confused before he felt your hand grasp his chin, pulling his face towards you and pressing your lips to his. A moan of surprise came from the back of his throat, but his lips were quick to move against yours.

Eddie reluctantly pried himself away, breathing heavily. “I-I’m sorry. Not that I’m like, complaining-because I’m not at all, trust me-but wha-what is happening right now?”

Your thumb softly stroked against where it rested on his cheek. “I’m kissing you, Eddie.”

The metal head nodded rapidly in agreement. “Yeah, yeah, no, I get that.” His hand raised to wind around your wrist. “I’m just-uh…” His chest still raised and fell, lips swollen and tinted with your burgundy lipstick. “Just a little confused, I guess.”

You pressed another searing kiss to his lips before you answered. “I like you Eddie. And know you like me too. I was just tired of waiting for you to make a move.”

Eddie was the one to initiate the next kiss, scooting as close as possible to the center console to lean into you.

You let him pul away briefly, “I’m really sorry about that-“ Kiss. He whimpered. “-I gotta say, though-“ Kiss. “-I’m kinda glad-“ Kiss. “You had to make the first move.”

A content hum left your throat. “Me too.”

general taglist: @teenwolfbitches28 | @thethreeheadeddragon | @Cerbythepuppy

stranger things taglist: @m-rae23 | @mulletmcghee | @wh0reforbucknasty | @tatestripedsweater | @steveslittlefreak

strike throughs means tumblr won't let me tag you :(

add yourself to my taglist!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #jade west!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #stranger things

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genderkoolaid · 1 year

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you have good takes so I'd be interested in your opinion on sth that's bugging me

Would you say queer cis men are discriminated against in terms of gender? my friends say they are only discriminated im terms of sexuality.

where I live it's common practice to rally around gender discrimination but to exclude queer cis men and that's the narrative, that they will never experience gender discrimination, but it doesn't sit right with me.

as I see it, they are discriminated in terms of being men "in the wrong way" just as trans men are.

what even is discrimination and privilege. my head hurts.

Gender and sexuality are so deeply intertwined that I think its hard to separate the two. I mean throughout human history it has been pretty common for gay men (and women) to be considered their own gender- not just in cultural third genders but also in the West (uranian, for example, is a word that was used- by gay men- to describe gay men as a "third sex," and theres a lesbian equivalent but I can't remember it). Being a man who liked other men meant you had a Woman Brain or Woman Soul or some variant of that idea (hence why trans queers and cis queers have often been grouped together), because you could not be a normal "real" man unless you were heterosexual. This is also why gay trans people have been discriminated against medically; if you are a woman with Man Brain, you can't become a man with Woman Brain, because then you would've been a straight woman.

I think part of the issue is that people tend to view "discrimination based on gender" as meaning "experiences misogyny in the same way or similar way cis women do." Gay men can and do experience misogyny, but if they aren't literally being seen as women while it happens, people may overlook it or just consider it sexuality-based discrimination. And there very much are cis gay men who are misogynistic and obviously have the benefit of being AMAB men, especially if they are gender conforming and socially acceptable and live in the right area... but I don't think "cis gay men can have privilege" logically concludes with "so they can't be discriminated for their gender." Especially since a lot of "cis gay men" ARE weird in the gender, they might not even be cis or they might be cis and something else. And we shouldn't judge the position of all cis gay men on the axis of gender based on the most privileged cis gay men we can imagine.

I don't think any sort of "you are less [gender] because [sexuality]" bigotry can be considered just discrimination for sexuality and not gender at all. I also think gender is so pervasive in all corners of life that all systems of oppression influence and use it- but with queerness specifically I think gender is always a fundamental part of it. Gay men aren't hated for the nebulous concept of "attraction to men," because women who are attracted to men aren't hated for it. They are hated for being men who are attracted to men. If people can understand how misogyny plays a fundamental role in lesbophobia, then it should be pretty clear how gay men's gender plays a role in homophobia as well.

#m.#ask box

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fozmeadows · 2 years

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on the outing of kit connor

can I just -

the reason coming out is a thing - the whole reason we have a CONCEPT of coming out - are heteronormative social defaults. we live in a culture that assumes everyone is straight: that teaches us to assume, not only that everyone else is straight, but that we are straight, and which overwhelmingly, depending on context and location, either treats queerness as something external to the norm, something invisible and shameful, or something downright evil. and so we have a situation where, when you are queer in whatever way, coming out is never a one-and-done situation, because even if you’ve come out a hundred times in your life, strangers will continue to assume you’re cis and straight unless you tell them otherwise - which it may not always be safe to do, because of homophobia and transphobia. so out people, despite being out in whatever way, can still exist in this constant state of semi-closetedness, not because they want to, but because of the refusal of others to entertain the reality of their existence as a human default, rather than as a specialised exception to the norm. straightness and cisness can always be Assumed, says this logic, but queerness must be Proven: otherwise it cannot possibly exist.

all this being so, when you demand that a real, human person discloses their sexuality to you before they’re ready? when you forcibly out someone? you’re contributing to the same heteronormative social defaults whose dominance you’re ostensibly using to justify Why Visible Queerness Matters, because what you’re really demanding is certainty, and the emphasis on certainty IS THE WHOLE GODDAMN PROBLEM. what you’re saying is, “I assume that everyone is straight until or unless they expressly confirm otherwise, because that’s the Correct Assumption. assuming that someone is queer, therefore, would be Incorrect, even if they’re signaling solidarity with and support for the queer community - even if they’re signaling queerness in other ways - because queerness isn’t allowed any ambiguity. I must be Certain of who is queer and who is Not, because it’s Wrong to assume a person isn’t straight” and I just.

[stares directly into the camera] really. really! who is it, I wonder, who taught you that it’s wrong to assume people aren’t straight? who told you that it’s potentially insulting to be thought of as queer, but NEVER insulting to be assumed straight? what social norms, I ask, imparted the idea that thinking of someone as queer is “imposing sexuality” on them (negative), whereas thinking of them as straight is Perfectly Normal? do you think, perhaps, that continually assuming everyone is straight to the point where you demand a public, notarised Admission Of Queerness to be exempted from that assumption maybe serves to further entrench the idea of Straight As Default, thereby creating a more hostile and less accepting environment for queer people? has it occurred to you that, if you respond with derision and hostility to anyone who (for instance) plays with gender presentation through fashion, evokes a queer aesthetic or otherwise says Fuck You to presenting as cishet without expressly confirming their queerness, you are making it HARDER for queer people to exist safely in public, to say nothing of shoring up toxic, shitty gender binaries for cishet people?

does the entertainment industry have a historical problem re: casting straight people in queer roles and praising their performances while simultaneously refusing to cast queer people in those roles because “it wouldn’t be acting”? YES. is this some homophobic bullshit? YES. does hollywood, despite its supposed status as a liberal bastion, still have a huge fucking problem with homophobia and treating out actors and other out creatives like shit? YES.

is any of this improved by forcing queer actors to out themselves, the better to feel comforted that a FICTIONAL queer person isn’t being “disrespected” by a real human actor, or whatever the fuck other justification you’d care to run with? NO. NO IT FUCKING ISN’T.

does forcing people to out themselves increase the lack of safety queer people feel and experience within an already homophobic industry? IT SURE FUCKING DOES.

all of you go to your godamned rooms and think about what you’ve done

#kit connor #homophobia #outing #coming out #hollywood #straightness #cishet defaults

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aragonlediagon · 3 months

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Shingyoku fashion :)

Hi it is me the Shingyoku guy™️ posting of the very specific touhou pc98. Today I finished baking an unsollicited height scale with all my Shingyoku design interpretations :)

Took me a while to arrest them all!! This is quite a wide picture so I made some standalones grouped per pairs, below if youre interested 👇

Felt the need to mention it as some disclaimer: Unless the opposite is mentionned (for one take), all brunettes are men and all redheads are women. (I know this place's userbase seemed less judgy than on other places ive posted before, its just. To not assume some of them are women just because they have long hair 🙄)

1a. Shapeshifter Shingyoku (a kami, my main take). The ones with two tones hair are headcanon additionnal forms (small one being a "weak/rest form" & the dramatic one a "true/complete" form). So these 4 are the same person.

1b. Shingyoku's creators. HC: Shingyoku being a kami born from the fused spirits of 2 shrine officiants. They are humans who reach godhood and lived a long time before HRtP took place.

2. Weird """genderbend""" take. Shingyoku has no canon, but brunette is mostly depicted as a man & redhead as a woman, this take goes the opposite way. I imagine too theyre the gatekeepers in case 1b didnt fuse into the kami Shingyoku. They are youkais (fudakaeshi & oni).

3. A more derivative take. Redhead is a dragon deity from an other planet/realm who arrived on earth (I have a whole worldbuilding WIP). Brunette is human. Both are diviners (redhead refers to Yi Jing, brunette an onmyoji impersonating a priest). They live in some sort of fantasy Heian era. The gates are their final destination tho nothing refering to touhou like names being mentionned (hope I clearly explained it Id like to keep it short)

4. A very derivative take. Both are same species as redhead from 3. My main direction was in general to create a whole species/civilization using Shingyoku's vague concept rather than make something which would fit into touhou lore. So these dont look "touhoulike" at all but are my personal favorite as I went with my own designing style. So they dont live on earth/gensokyo, no touhou terms mentionned, just me wanting more Shingyoku inspired content. It would take me a while to explain what they are, refer to & the worldbuilding of their planet/realm, so Ill dedicate a whole post for them one day. Im just happy a concept as vague/obscure as Shingyoku now inspire me into making my own lore :)

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

Thank you for reading I love Shingyoku Touhou Project The Highly Responsive to Prayers heres a bonus them as worms because I would still love them even if they were worms:

:))))))

Maybe for some people ALL of these designs will look very derivative and "they dont look like the sprites!!" but

Im an old fashion student with a degree, I love making designs since years

The sprites have very simple designs, maybe for some its not a bad thing, but ive always been more interested in the more ornated designs, I wished to enhance the designs a bit. I love Shingyoku I want them to be extra!

Not just about simplicity but the balance of flow as well. I dont straight up interpret a design from its base material especially for such old sprites. I treat the sprites elements more as a list of "to add" reccurences (to not say "pr*mpts, I hate that word now). I initially dont love Shingyoku for their design, rather the history I have with them, its hard for me to appreciate most fanarts of them. But this is a whole topic regarding touhou pc98 chara design which deserves its own post for an other day.

#shingyoku #touhou pc98 #touhou hrtp #touhou #touhou project #touhou fanart #my art

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physalian · 2 months

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Tackling Characters with Mental Health Issues (or, ‘Write What you Know’)

**Trigger warning for this entire post**

This is completely off the cuff and unplanned but here we go. I just read a book that POV switches between its two romantic leads. One of these leads was intended to be written with a severe case of generalized anxiety. I have confirmation from the author that it’s not an author-insert. This character was entirely based on research, not experience.

Without putting them on blast, because they really did try…. While ‘neurodivergent’ or ‘mental health disorder’ isn’t a protected class, it should still fit squarely under other topics you shouldn’t write about if you don’t experience it with a massive asterisk.

TL;DR: If you yourself aren’t part of X minority or suffer Z physical or mental disability, you should not be barred from writing characters with those traits. ***HOWEVER*** writing these characters struggling, suffering, or overcoming this given trait in a pro-cis, straight, white, neurotypical, able-bodied America is not yours to touch.

This suffering isn’t your story to profit off of, when you didn’t actually suffer any of it.

I cannot remember who said it and I am absolutely paraphrasing but for example: White authors can and should include characters of color (and I am a White author). White authors should *not* write about a character of color as their protagonist experiencing bigotry, discrimination, hate crimes, and all that hardship, at the hands of white society. It’s just not your story to tell, and all the research in the world will never give you the lived experience you need to do it justice.

Like, you can write about the concept of slavery existing in a fantasy novel. Or sci-fi. Or some Alternate Universe historical fiction. You cannot write about the American slave trade like you lived it and still suffer the ramifications of it when you didn’t, especially when it is the thesis of your entire book.

Anyone remember that awful Amazon movie, My Policeman? Based on a book written by a straight, white woman whose straight female lead took an entire narrative to whine about how she was jilted by her gay husband and his gay lover who she got arrested and institutionalized so she could keep her husband… and never told them? With the predatory 3rd love interest and the whole ‘liar revealed’ and… yeah. That one.

Unless you do the work very few authors are willing to do, with permission and encouragement and a backing from whatever minority you’re writing about and their stamp of approval that you knocked it out of the park, just don’t. Save yourself the headache.

—

As I read this book, and this entire character’s arc is about her mental health, for 100k words… why would you *want* to take on that responsibility? Why would you want to take on all that extra research, all the stress of making sure you get it right, all the costs of hiring sensitivity readers and the risk of your character falling apart with readers who do fit these traits?

Characters with mental health problems are very, very tricky to get right for one massive reason: Accurately depicting many disorders and anxieties means your character can come across as extremely unlikeable, uncompelling, confusing, and frustrating. These characters won’t make logical choices or arguments, they’re likely to self-sabotage, contradict themselves, argue in circles, and die on molehills they think are mountains. This is just what anxiety does to people in the real world. We are not always compelling protagonists, and we don’t always get happy endings.

Writing illogical characters takes a lot of practice if you yourself are not an illogical thinker and if you’re writing half a book elbow-deep in 3rd person limited, intimately trying to describe how this disorder impacts their daily life, you, my friend, have so much more work cut out for you than you anticipated.

So why?

It got very sticky very quickly when the message I took away from the book was “character A can love away character B’s anxiety” and that just… it’s just not how it works. That is a very dangerous mindset to have, for both parties involved.

Character A does not exist to “fix” Character B, nor should A exist to be B’s therapist.

Making A B’s “medicine” can encourage some dangerous codependency. Especially if they break up, B backslides and spirals, and A takes on guilt for not being there anymore, as if any of this is A’s fault.

It says that ‘curing’ anxiety just takes a little romance. Which. No. B has to love themselves, first, before they’re able to love anyone else or let anyone else love them.

It got stickier when the author accidentally wrote a trauma-induced ace who wanted to start liking sex to please her partner and not for her own peace of mind (with internalized self-hate for her anxieties around sex as if not liking it after a traumatic experience isn't completely justified), as if she wasn’t good enough with the boundaries she had. And the narrative backed it up because she was *cured* after a couple rounds in the sheets—I worked really hard on my Ace character guide to help stop people from doing this.

Had Character A accepted these boundaries B had, and these two come to a creative compromise around intimacy that B does like, it would have been so much healthier. B liked making out, just not being the 'recieving' partner, while A chose to die on a 'if we can't have the sex I want, I can't be in a romance with you' hill and it just broke my heart for B. B wasn't being picky. B was traumatized.

The worst thing you can do to your ace character is a) reinforce the idea that they’ve failed as a human because they don’t like sex and b) reinforce the idea that they “just haven’t found the right person yet” and this narrative hit both in the bullseye.

The author wasn’t trying to write an ace, I can tell, but aceness aside “good sex is the best cure to your sexual trauma” is… also, not great? If you yourself didn’t experience this? The point of all of this was clearly to attempt exposure therapy, it just got so bogged down with other problems that the nuance necessary to stick the landing was completely lost.

If this was fantasy, like Twilight, with Bella’s dangerous codependency on Edward in New Moon, mental health is not the point of that book. The author didn’t set out on a mission to provide respectful representation of depression and healthy relationship goals. It’s toxic as hell, but it also takes a backseat to the actual story and the audience who loves those books couldn’t care less about how toxic it is.

The books aren’t about Bella overcoming her depression. They’re about sparkly vampires and the dangers of… teen pregnancy?

It got even *stickier* when the character revealed she’d apparently been in therapy for a decade and a half, only for her therapist to shrug and go ‘I guess you’re stuck with it’ while her mental health issue became a physical health issue, because she should have had a crippling eating disorder that the narrative didn't at all take seriously.

Why would you want the stress of writing this?

—

I am not at all saying you can’t write anxious characters if you yourself are not anxious. But make that an ingredient of the pie and not the entire pie, yeah?

Ask yourself why you’re doing this. The fundamental argument of that book seemed to be “anxiety can be loved away” and from the very first page, it was doomed. That was the book’s thesis. The entire story hinged on the success of this depiction.

I can’t even be mad, because it wasn’t intended to be harmful, but it inadvertently reaffirmed so many dangerous and incorrect assumptions and stereotypes about mental health. Good intentions historically do not guarantee good results.

If you do not suffer from anxiety, you are still allowed to write a character who experiences it (Or OCD, specific phobias, BPD, what have you). I tip my hat to anyone willing to do all the work to get it right because those are all tall orders, but you aren’t blacklisted from these characters.

But with any minority, anyone who isn’t “cis, straight, white, male, neurotypical, and able-bodied” write a character who is also X, instead of an X stereotype, who happens to be your character.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writeblr #writing #character design #character development #mental health #mental health in media #anxiety disorder #anxiety #write what you know

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charg3rs0ck3t · 1 year

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Anti-heroism

(Alt title- “Save me?”)

TASM! Peter Parker x (vigilante) reader

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of domestic crimes, reader kills someone (not too graphic), almost death, knives, it’s really fucking long, some fluff.

((Unedited))

———————————————————————

Not everyone is worth being saved.

———————————————————————

The first time you really met Spiderman, your hands were around his neck. You were slowly tightening your grip, but, as you looked up to watch the life leave his eyes, something you had eagerly awaited, you stopped as he began to mumble.

You knew that voice.

God fucking damnit.

———————————————————————

You hated heroes. Hated how they were considered salvations to a broken society. Maybe if the rich gave a shit the divide wouldn’t be so great.

Society is run off greed.

And yeah, sometimes the rich do give a shit, you weren’t saying thats the prime evil, the problem comes when assholes use chaos and desperation to make quick cash.

New York City was a prime example of the cesspits designed by and for humanity. In the beginning, there was no night that went by without the sound of an ambulance and a hearse in pursuit with last nights leftovers.

Now they just skipped the ambulance and went straight in with the hearse.

The city chewed people up and spat them out dead.

Heroism is dangerous. It is a false alias for mass destruction and major loss of life, and yet claims to be for the good of the people. A core of wickedness, hidden in a faux utilitarian shell. A being not whole unless causing harm and calling themself in favour of those who they massacre.

Heroism is a plague of the mind, but it doesn’t acquaint to the evil it fights. In concept, the idea was perfect. That’s where you came in.

Neither hero nor villain, but one who admits and atones to their wrongs without a need to do so. You had no image to uphold, doing what was right and paying the cost that took.

At least.. at least until you decided to catch the attention of the ‘local hero’.

———————————————————————

Growing up in New York City had its perks, one such being direction. But it was still a big city, things where constantly changing, so it wasn’t uncommon for you to drop into an alley a block or so over from your intended destination.

Usually, this was fine, however how were you to react when you come face to face with The Spiderman adjusting his costume and packing away casual clothes into a duffle.

Clearly, he didn’t know either because as he seemed to be adjusting the material at his shoulders, he turned a caught a glimpse of you.

There you two stood, at a stale mate, perfectly acquainted through previous minor conflicts and slightly contrasting morals. He began to panic, it was dreadfully obvious when all he could seem to do was gape like a fish.

“Don’t worry spider-boy, knowing what you look like would take all the fun out of it!” You exclaimed, turning your back and walking away, chuckling to yourself as you scale a wall onto another building. Hoping to finally enjoy some peace.

What you didn’t expect however, was for him to follow you.

“Where are you going?” He said, trailing just behind you. He didn’t exactly know why he had followed you up here, but you confused him so and he was intrigued.

Peter knew he was no distinguished labelled hero, Hell, he was reminded by the papers every day. He knew and he accepted that, but he had every intention to be one, no matter what.

You however, you perplexed him. You seemed to hate the evil in the city, and so you did something about it. But you hated being called a hero, you didn’t do anything by the book. In fact there were times Peter found your methods barbaric and oddly personal.

He had watched you beat the literal shit out of your fair share of criminals, but you’d really let it out in cases of domestic crimes. For being so violent, you were so passionate and so caring to victims.

But you just didn’t want to be a hero. Trust that he knows that, he’s asked you on multiple occasions and that black eye from the last time he snuck up on you still aches on occasion.

“None of your business.” You retaliated to him tiredly, soon following with a yawn. You were exhausted, Rightfully so however. You had been parading around since your class ended and it was almost 11 PM by now.

All you wanted to do was get home, finish your coursework, take a bath and sleep.

But here you were, with an eyesore in tight spandex on your ass. You couldn’t go home with him tailing you, so you’d have to go horizontal to your apartment. Sitting on some random roof and hanging your legs over a darkened alley.

Hoping to have lost him, you glanced over your shoulder, only to see him staring at you from across the roof. You sighed, getting out some protein bar and opening it. Eating away as you stared into the busy streets.

The city truly never slept and amongst the ugliness and sorrow, the chaos and twinkling lights seemed ever beautiful and you smiled at the thought.

“Why do you do it?” He muttered as he sat next to you. Getting a hum in response only prompted him to continue. “I mean, you say you hate the city, that you’d leave it first chance you have.. but somewhere in there you must love it, or you wouldn’t do this, put yourself in danger just for the innocent.”

“That’s a dark way of looking at it Spider-man, I thought you were meant to be this place’s glimmer of light!” You laughed a little, majorly just trying to release the harsh tension. “It’s not the city, it’s the people, it’s the people who this place don’t deserve. I think no matter where I was I would have ended up like this because people need something to believe in.”

“Superhero speech! That was totally a superhero speech don’t even deny it! I got it all down!” He yelled accusingly but in a light tone, pointing at you. It was fond, as if you were just two old friends bantering with each other. Even if you did push him off the roof in response with a loud ‘would a superhero do this asshole!?’

But you knew he would catch himself, that he expected it was coming.

You hated heroes, but this one just seemed to be the exception.

———————————————————————

Peter was a sweet boy, respectful, but he was pained.

You could tell he was always hiding a deeper pain, sorrow he never let himself truly feel, sorrow he may never cure himself of.

He was your best friend, a shining ray of hope even through all the dirt, but even the brightest rays where darkened and scarred by the ugly smog that was the city.

Every time you talked to him, every happy moment, he never seemed to let himself truly enjoy it. He seemed to live in the future but always worry about the present.

How can one hope to fix the present if they treat it as the past? Simple answer, you can’t.

———————————————————————

It was another night in New York, even the lume of the many billboards couldn’t shine upon every shadowed corner. So, evil continued in the darkness.

You already hadn’t been having a great day, your job had double booked you for 2 meetings and you had spent hours being yelled at for trying to point out the issue. Plus, you had to miss one of your lectures because the meeting went over by an hour. So really you were just sick of today, wanting nothing more than to curl up at home with a bottle of wine and some shitty tv.

But, unfortunately for you, one of the gangs you’ve been trailing, notedly unsuccessfully, for the past month finally left a huge clue. They would be sending out another shipment tonight, dabbling in special enhancement drugs that made most people go insane.

So here you were, sat on a rooftop watching some goons bicker in-front of the entrance of the warehouse. You were calculating how long until the anonymous tip you’d send to the police would take to dispatch. Either way you had a good Fifteen minutes before anyone came running.

At least, that was until Spiderman decided to grace you with his presence. A presence that you really didn’t need right now, especially when already peeved off.

“What are we doing?~” He whispered mockingly, getting a glare in retaliation. But, not content with that answer he repeated the question again.

“Oh lord give me patience, or atleast a fucking knife.” You muttered to yourself. “ ‘we’ are doing nothing, you, you are going to leave me alone and go save another cat from a tree and I, I am going to go actually make a change in this city.”

He just laughed and shook his head at your response, “oh cmon! Why can’t we be partners! An iconic duo! Like Batman and Robin, Bonnie and Clyde or something!”

“We are not going to be either of those thi- wait shut up for a second.” He began to open his mouth but closed it as you stared intently below, the doors of the warehouse opening mockingly.

“Stay here!” You whispered, the last thing you needed was his moralistic hero speeches as you were using some guy as a punching bag. So as he stood obediently, you scaled down the building to an open window, Three stories high.

The room you entered seemed empty and cold, as though no one had been inside in years. Merely a week prior, their main base of operations was set up in here. It was all a trap.

But who had known you would be coming?

You got your answer in the form of a sharp stab at your side, looking down to find a knife expertly lodged in your flesh. It didn’t seem fatal or anything at the time, but it definitely hurt like a bitch.

Turning around to see the man, hands now covered in your blood, was effortless, even more so as your body seemed to simply flow, contorting in quivers of motion as you eventually left him a bloody pulp, dead, sprawled still upon the floor.

You couldn’t continue, you were tired, woozy and bleeding. Shipment or not, you would have to do this another night, plus you definitely couldn’t be around when the police turned up.

Seeing the flashing lights and hearing the sirens was what drove you to stand up and finally clamber out the window. Admittedly, not as gracefully as usual, but you got a free pass since the knife was still lodged pitifully into your side.

———————————————————————

It comes to a point in a persons life (typically as they’re jumping and weaving from one rooftop to another with their only intention to get home and patch up a literal stab wound), when they wonder if it’s all worth it.

This was that moment for you. As you stumbled from another roof, almost falling into the bustling streets below, you had to take a moment to catch a breath.

Turns out, even that seemed a bad idea because as you closed your eyes, you heard a whoosh of air and the thump of the hero, the one you seemed to come to know so much of, landing next to you.

Today really wasn’t your finest and all you seemed to want to do was sleep. It was infuriating and nothing was going your way.

“What do you want?” You hissed at him, you were in no mood to entertain. All you wanted was to close your eyes, maybe have a little nap, just so you could finally get home tonight.

He took one long look at you, staring at your slumping figure, drooping before him.

It was depressing to see you like this, he didn’t know what happened in the 20 minutes it’d been since you parted, but you were not in a good state. He was worried, and maybe, just maybe, he was scared.

As he went to go pick you up, or at least help you to your feet, his arms wrapped around you. His fingers finally trailed to the bloody hilt of the knife and he gasped, it was light and restricted, but he was shocked nonetheless and didn’t hide it well. He pulled his hand back and observing the reddened substance on his hands, before his eyes landed on your face.

“Calm down, it’s not toxic or anything- it’s just blood- not all of us can be ‘mr I never get hurt in fights’.” You slurred and hiccuped out the sentence, trying to uphold the typical rivalling ‘banter’ you two thrived on.

But He didn’t laugh.

The blank eyes of that mask just bore into yours, especially when he seemed to take in every detail of the injury.

“You are so lucky I care!-“ He was angry, thrashing his arms and pacing back and forward. “If I didn’t I’d shove you in a hospital right now and let them expose you to the world! Shove you off and not let you be my problem.” He was being mean, spiteful, but he was also saddened.

“If I recall Spiderman- you were the one who bothered me.” You laughed in a hushed tone, at least before grabbing at your side as a sharp sensation jolted through it. It hurt and you let out a soft sob.

“My name is Peter, If you’re gonna die here, tonight, on this shitty run down roof, you deserve to know my name.” He was downcast, turning to face you, to grasp a reaction. All he could see was the small shape of a smile under your own mask. How could you just sit there and smile at him? How could you do this to him at a time like this?

“I know, I’ve always known Pete. I probably wouldn’t have put up with you for so long if I didn’t…” you whispered out cautiously, causing his head to whip in your direction.

“How- wait! Wait- No- Please tell me it’s not you! Please (Name)! Please No!” He ran over, dropping to your side and ripping off his own mask before gently going to remove your own.

So you smiled at him, it’d been a few days since you last saw his real face. Even tear stained, his was your favourite.

“I’m sorry Pete, I didn’t mean for it to go this way. I knew, I knew since the first time I met you in costume. I tried to kill you, my hands were around your throat. You only escaped that night because of your voice. So maybe.. maybe this is karma? Maybe this is what I get for killing all of these people! Hell, I don’t regret it, maybe that makes it worse, but what does it all matter anyways if I die on this rooftop tonight?” It all came out in a blur, maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was fear, you couldn’t tell.

“You’re not gonna die tonight, not now I know it’s you. I’m gonna make sure you live.” He was crying, big tears welled up in his eyes, spilling onto his reddened cheeks.

“You can’t save everyone Peter, I know you want to, but you can’t. You can’t save me, not from what I’ve done and not from the consequences of that.” You knew you had done terrible things, and you knew that you didn’t regret a single one. You didn’t regret anything, except maybe dying without apologising, without telling him how you feel.

“No, no I can’t. But you can save yourself.”

———————————————————————

It all went by in a flash, there were moments when you were semi-lucid. You could look around, take it all in, but you couldn’t speak, couldn’t see faces.

You had been treated, not professionally and definitely not in a hospital, but well enough. You would live.

Finally waking up, you felt exhausted. You craved the idea of sleep, but you detested the days of nightmares you had been trapped in.

Not speaking when awake was something you could handle, but being stuck in a constant terror of false reality drove you insane. You saw Peter’s face in them, he was always distorted and full of rage.

“I hate you.” He’d say

“I will never forgive you.” He’d spit.

“If you had died, I’d have one less criminal on the streets to worry about.” He’d hiss.

You knew it wasn’t real, but it hurt all the same. Whilst you knew that those things he was saying were all in your dreams, all the things you had done were very much real.

It was cliché. You had only once rethought your path before now, that was the first time you had ever met him. He was a small boy, hardly could stand up for himself, but he was something good, infinitely flowing with hope for a better future.

Now here you were, trudging your way from the made up bed on his apartments couch. You’d been here many times before, when he was significantly less aware. Before, it always felt like home, but now it felt like even the walls had eyes that looked upon you with hate, pity and betrayal.

If anything, you wished you could apologise to this place you loved so much, to the lies you told under this sturdy roof and to the cement foundations that had fallen akin a victim to your actions.

You stood outside Peters room for a long while, staring at the Chipping paint at the corners of the door. Debating returning to the couch, but before you could retreat back a voice rang from within the room.

“Are you coming in?” He seemed calm, composed and confident.

Entering the room, he seemed all but that, he seemed anxious and at the same time relieved, he was scared and he was happy. He was confusing.

Walking forward was subconscious. Peter often struggled getting to sleep so you had slept in his room many times.

This time was different though, you weren’t just here because your study date ran over.

He gestured to the empty space upon the bed, so you tucked yourself under the duvet. His bed was comfortable, but you wrapped an arm around him and rested your head upon his chest. Your bodies both suddenly began jolting, he had begin to silently sob, and so you laid there, quietly shushing him as he cried, arms wrapped around him.

Finally the world felt right again, maybe he could save you, because If the world felt this good all the time you wouldn’t have to fight.

“Never do that to me again” he muttered finally.

“Okay.. I love you..” you murmured in response, nuzzling your head further into his chest.

“I love you too, we’ll talk in the morning.” He shuffled slightly to place a delicate kiss on your forehead before falling asleep with you finally in his arms again.

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murdrdocs · 1 year

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im so srry if im doing this wrong, its my first time hehe

i was wondering if you could write something about studying w ethan??

def okay if not, i understand that people r busy!!

I love ur work sm btw 💞

you did nothing wrong luv ! (and tysm <333) this is so rom-comy tehe

multiple textbooks, worksheets, lined sheets of paper with ethan's writing, two computers, multiple pens and pencils, lined sheets of paper with your handwriting on it. each thing the both of you had pulled out during your studying surrounded the two of you, incidentally closing both of you in at the top of your bed, unable to leave unless you wanted to do some massive rearranging.

it's not like you wanted to move, anyway. you're comfortable here, sitting next to the guy in econ that you'd been crushing on for a while. staring at his side profile as he types on his computer, you think about how you went from crushing on ethan landry from afar, to being confident enough to invite him over to study a few times a month (if your schedules would allow it). you still get a little giddy thinking about it, your heart rate speeding up and a funny feeling settling in your stomach as you watch him lick his lips and furrow his bushy eyebrows.

"okay, i think i got it," he announces, sitting straight and turning his computer to face you. you quickly look towards the bright screen, pursing your lips and squinting to pretend like you were working the entire time and definitely not admiring ethan.

he explains what you've both been stumped on to you, stuttering over the words a little and having to back track a few times. oddly enough, you're able to understand the concept even through his mishaps, a bright smile growing onto your lips whenever you repeat the information back to him and he nods.

"yeah, exactly!" his hand raises, yours does to, and the clap of both of your hands meeting sounds throughout the room.

you're too focused on how warm and comforting his hand feels against yours that you don't notice that both of you have frozen in place. your eyes turn from your combined hands to his eyes, yours widening just a bit when you see that his brown doe eyes are already looking at you.

you go to say something, still refusing to take your hand away from his. "um," is all you're able to get out before ethan's speaking.

"can i kiss you?"

wow.

it's like all breath has been knocked out of your body. you suck in a large gulp of air, the sound both audible and visual as your chest rises. it takes you a second to say something, but ethan doesn't use the hesitance to take his question back, so you timidly smile, and nod.

your hands are still mid-high five when ethan leans in to press his lips to yours, but once the kiss moves past a single chaste peck, your hand cups his cheeks and his moves to your waist. you shift in an attempt to get close to him, and your pen bites into your skin and your papers crinkle, but it doesn't matter when your knee brushes against ethan's and you can feel his warmth through the layers of his sweatshirt and jeans. he kisses you gently, with a little hesitance that breeds precision, and curiosity that creates intensity.

it feel so good to kiss ethan landry. to take something you've literally dreamt about and turn it into reality. you hadn't expected his lips to be this soft, nor did you expect his hair to be the same. you'd thought about his hands on your waist as he would pull you closer, but you couldn't imagine how secure the gesture would feel. and, you wouldn't admit it, but you've definitely thought about the heat in your loins when he would kiss you.

you pull back, looking at his face, watching the way he licks his lips, and part your own slicked lips to speak. "are you sure you just want a kiss? we can do more, if you'd like. i'm always willing to go further with you."

the prettiest little sound that is above the expanse of your imagination slips past his lips and his eyes flutter just a bit. you take his response as a good one, and you can't help the slightly teasing grin on your lips as you ask for confirmation. "yeah?"

"yeah," and then his lips are back on yours and he's pulling you into his lap, both of you doing your part to push away textbooks and papers and computers on the way.

#Proof read ☒#ethan fluff >>>#ethansworld!#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry #scream 6 fluff #scream 6

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miilkyrolls · 5 days

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okay fine, Murder at homecoming, YOU WIN

so i finally finished MaH after putting off continuing past chapter 1 since like...february and, i almost used this book as a diamond mine cause i preemptively was like "this looks lame 😒"

... i came, i laughed, i gasped, i yelled, i cried and i left... then i CAME BACK BECAUSE HOLY MOTHER OF REPLAY-ABILITY BATMAN🥲

but no this book hits right where it needed too. I know one of the biggest upsets people have with MaH is A) the villain being guessable and B) not solving Perdita's disappearance and sorta C/ B.2) it being a standalone. and imo for A, that's up to you to feel that way. imo cause choices is a visual form of content, it's kinda hard to have genuinely surprising "twist" villains cause the visuals already clue you into who done-did it unless they pull the twist straight out they ass(i feel this way about movies and shows too. the only way surprises genuinely get me is in books or podcasts, so non visual entertainment)

and B/C, i actually think NOT solving perdita's story AND making it a standalone was actually very mature of PB (first and possibly last time i'll ever say that in this day and age 💀). it's possible they might've made it their next teen drama series if they had the budget. But unfortunately it's honestly realistic. unfortunately a lot of women go missing and rarely do they get found alive and in a short amount of time (esp if you have as a bipoc mc/ perdita). it's an extremely tragic cookie crumble that unfortunately a lot of mysteries in our lives often take us our entire lives to solve and a lot of them we'll never solve in our lifetime. it's a great paradox / parallel to gabbie's death. it took us all of say 4/5 months (cause in the US, most schools go on winter break in late December) to solve with justice being fairly swift, fair, and harsh but unfortunately a lot of victims don't get their day for a long while, if ever. it's a healthy ying and yang of enjoying fictional justice but it being unrealistic with acknowledging the devastation of losing real victims while acknowledging those lost and their unsung stories that we should never completely give up on their days to come. (ofc however, i hc that perdita is still alive and uncovered corruption in the city and knew that making her family deal with legal repercussions would make their lives more difficult and be ostracized by the elites of Beachwood, so she just left and changed her identity. i like to think she did it also cause MC deserved to have a normal teenhood and not be ousted for her actions)

also i love the open and candid conversations around the treatment of queer children, bipoc mistreatment , misogyny, sa and grief. idk why but the ability to choose if you'd experienced homophobia/ transphobia based on your pronouns and who you've romanced, and tyler talking about thinking he was straight before meeting us (i had a masc body) idk why but i like that touch. i feel like PB kinda grazes over the aspect of being queer / trans and the concept of love, coming out, and society acceptance when your same sex romancing/ nonbinary so it's real shocking when they actually..idk address that thing😭. it's nice to have characters acknowledging their sexuality rather then just be automatically playersexual and everyone around them is just immediately accepting/ suddenly bigotry just seems to evaporate for mc's life/ society

also also, WE CAN BE POLY AND LIKE ITS CALLED POLY AND EVERYONE IS HAPPY AND THE LI WE DON'T CHOOSE AREN'T FORCED ONTO US/ GIVEN AS A OPTION

smaller things: i like the heavy usage of sound effects, idk why but i do. i like the flashbacks into mc's and perdita's relationship, the mix of free and paid clues that are non linear, STEVIE (yes she needs her own category)

overall: 9.2/10. i really like this book, it's going on my personal shelf next to the likes of crimes of passion (minus proposal...), Queen B, big sky country, blood bound, immortal desires 1, and with every heartbeat for my good book shelf

#PLS give MaH the fandom she DESERVES #pixelberry #choices #choices stories we play #playchoices #choices stories you play #murder at homecoming

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howlonomy · 2 months

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Here it is:

Alright, the Lore Shit: After killing Zenith Martlet and absorbing Asgore's SOUL, Clover decided to kill literally everyone in the Underground (minus the Ruins since they can't get back there) to make sure that any humans to fall in the future can't be killed by them (their ass was NOT listening to Flowey about how the Barrier works). So the constant release of ambient magic from the killed monsters plus them having Asgore's SOUL started to, slowly but surely, turn them into a Monster (and because of how slow it was, they didn't have any balance issues with the tail). Unknown to them, Asgore's SOUL had been collecting that magic, which is what caused them to change. They don't even realize that they've transformed since, as Sans states, they have distanced themself so much by having a LOVE of 20 that they don't even really seem to be there (also they have not looked in a mirror, no "It's you"s to be seen here)

For some reason I thought of this too, but their theme would either be straight up Enemy Retreating or a remixed All's Fair (which I have decided to call "Is It Fair?")

Stats: Same as always for the same reason, it just makes sense here.

Check: DOUBLE MEANING ALERT! DOUBLE MEANING ALERT! WEEWOO WEEWOO!

Sorry, but yeah. Traitor in the sense of "You killed everyone who cares for me" and "You killed all* the monsters while also being a monster" (a "You have become the very thing you swore to destroy" moment if ever there were). And "Justice" because killing people is never justice (unless it's the death penalty and ruled by a court of law but eh, semantics)

FLAVOR TEXT BECAUSE I HAVE THOUGHT THIS OUT WAY TOO MUCH:

Clover seems hesitant.

Clover can't seem to attack!

Are they... crying?

Because this fight is from the POV of a Pacifist Ending Clover (most likely in between exploring Ceroba's house and meeting up with Martlet on top off UG Apartments, again I have thought this out way too much) that means that nmm!Clover is fighting a human, which they really don't want to do, especially since that human is themself, so they hesitate and sometimes just straight up don't attack (I thought about including Familiarity again, but decided against it just so that I could have new material, it would absolutely fit, though)

Also, fun little fact I guess, but this is a complete inversion of the dt!Clover vs. nm!Clover fight! A murderous monster Clover fighting a pacifistic human Clover, and BOTH don't want to fight this time!

I realize that this may be a bit much considering this IS your au, but I can't help it when my brain starts thinking of this stuff, and it's so cool that I can't NOT draw it and share it.

ANYWAYS now I only have like one idea left. I am so close, but I will probably gain like seven others as soon as it's done, oh well. Enjoy!

WHAAAAATTT ALL OF THIS IS SO FUN???? the concept of slowly turning into the thing you swore to destroy is SOOO EVERYTHING…. and the play on alls fair??!??!? literally insane i am obsessed with it being called is it fair. because its not but i imagine nmm!clover being so distraught about being turned into a creature they hate and having to fight themselves. but its almost like penance for what they did.

AND THE INVERSE IS SO FUNNNN so many interesting new dynamics there; like if this fight took place before the final ceroba fight, clover wouldnt be nearly as close with everyone. sure, theyre angry at nmm!clover but also. they get it. im sure they would understand where they were coming from.

AARUGHHH THIS IS SO FUN I LOVE THIS LITTLE IDEA!!! ITS SO RICH IN CHARACTER AND LITTLE FLAVOR TEXTS

#asked and answered #monster clover au #mcau au #DIES. I LOVE THE LITTLE THINGS…. IT ALWAYS PULLS IT TOGETHER #the theme name. the flavor text. the stats. SIGHS!!!!!!

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that-ari-blogger · 1 month

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The Cooler She-Ra (Huntara)

Let me clear something up.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power doesn't get good, and it doesn't go places. It is good, and it has been in those places since day one. The first story discusses the cost of war with considerable nuance, lest we forget. Yes, the quality of the writing, animation, and debatably the acting increases as the series goes on as the crew finds their feet. But the themes of this series are explicit from the jump and do not change.

Reading that back, that was a bit more confrontational than I intended, so let me try and phrase it a different way.

For a lot of episodic stories, good and bad, the overwhelming vibe is of acceleration. The themes start out slow, then get piled in over time. Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated, for example, starts with the basic idea of friendship and secrecy, but matures to discussion of family, history, and legacy over time. This isn’t a flaw with the writing of Mystery Inc. at all, it’s just a way of writing.

Watching She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is like being in a single roomed house with a few small windows. You can see the outside world and the story through those windows, its clear enough to know there’s something interesting, but you can’t see the whole thing.

Then in season three, the walls start falling down and you start to realise where you have been the whole time.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD: (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power)

I’m going to start with something small that isn’t particularly related to the rest of the post, but I think it’s of equal importance and can’t be ignored. Huntara is gay.

This may not seem like a big deal, but it kinda reframes the rest of the series. Because up until this point, the queer coding we have seen has been a few background characters, and Spinnarella and Netossa, who have an implied relationship.

That’s just what it is, coding. They are coded together, but it isn’t dwelled upon. If it had only been season one that got made, I guarantee you there would be eejits online who would argue that they were platonic friends.

But Huntara explicitly flirts with another woman in a bar. This is a named character, who is casually queer, and that is what sets the precedent retroactively. Now it can no-longer be argued that this series isn’t interested in showing queer stories. Now Spinnerella and Netossa’s relationship is essentially confirmed, as the series has made itself and its stance abundantly clear. This is a show with queer people, it isn’t subtext, and it hasn’t been subtext this whole time.

Let me be clear, I am not arguing that Spinnarella and Netossa aren’t married in the first season at all. They are together, end of argument. But on a literary level, it is coding in that season, and it stops being coding retroactively.

The reason for the coding angle is actually linked to the casualness of Huntara’s sexuality.

Unfortunately, in popular culture and mainstream storytelling, the idea that a character is straight unless proven otherwise is a general attitude. This often means that a queer character isn’t queer unless proven so.

But Huntara establishes a different precedent, casualness. Huntara is just gay, there is no fanfare about it. The episode doesn’t dwell on it. But at the same time, it’s undeniable. This is a series where people are just queer, there doesn’t need to be confirmation, you can assume.

Anyway, Huntara, the episode, is still early on in season two, so it is still setting up what ideas the series will focus on. I mentioned earlier that the series as a whole has themes that it has been discussing from the get go, and I stick by that, but every season and every episode has to zero in on something (with exceptions) for clarity’s sake. In this case, Huntara centres around the idea of revelations, hence this post. Nothing in this episode is what it seems.

Worldbuilding is a key storytelling concept that is rarely dwelled upon except by Game Masters for TTRPGs, and Necrit. But it’s actually one of the most important elements of any work of fiction. Stories are based around vibes, and the easiest and most effective way to set up a specific feeling is to evoke that through the setting.

For a few key examples, Bloodborne is a story about injustice, horror, and monsters hiding in plain sight, so what better place to put it than the false civility of Victorian London? Similarly, The Magnus Archives is a story about injustice, horror, and monsters hiding in plain sight, so it is set in modern London. As a contrasting example, Robert Galbraith’s series, “Harold Pots and the Magicky Magic Stuff”, is about how the status quo is fine, actually, and that any attempts to change that is tantamount to murder, so it is set in a British boarding school. I disagree with the premise of one of these stories, can you tell which one?

The Crimson Wastes is an area where nothing is what it seems and everything wants to kill you. The ground could easily be quicksand, or deadly bushes, or a pile of snakes.

The opening scene is a phenomenal way of establishing the new territory. Not the dialogue, but what it shows you. Enormous skeletons of creatures that couldn’t handle the environment litter the ground, fossils that stand as a testament to life that had to adapt to survive

A bird drifts past the characters, landing on a plant. It’s peaceful. Then the bird literally iced, and falls from view, leaving the camera to focus only on the plant itself and all of that terrifying glory. This is telling you a few things. One, look twice at things before jumping in, not everything is as it seems. Two, this story is dangerous, and not even a cute little bird is safe from death. Three, nature and magic are one and the same. I wonder what that will mean going forward.

Also, there is a reason that the Horde hasn’t managed to conquer this area. I think praise needs to be given to the sound design of this episode. The scratching noise that accompanies the skeleton is unsettling, and it exists to make you remember that image. This area is dangerous in a different way to anything you have seen before. Not even the villains of this story can reach you here.

However, there is humanoid life here, which comes back to the theme of revelations and things not being what they seem. Making a living in the Wastes is possible, and that bar being literally inside an enormous skeleton is about as blunt of a metaphor as you are going to get. Surrounded by death, there is life.

Enter Huntara’s eponym, and let's take her apart, starting with her character design.

Huntara is practical, first and foremost. She carries a weapon that can double as a stick to poke things with from a distance (remember this), in case they turn out to be dangerous. She is dressed in simple clothes, not too heavy as to cause her to overheat, but enough to protect her from the sun. She is partially armoured (remember this too), and wears the exact same shoes as Adora, hinting at her background, although she has reinforced and repaired them, again, she’s practical.

But there are two things that I’m missing, and they are the two most obvious things about her. She’s built like a brick privvy, and she’s cool as all hell.

The coolness thing is partly based on her sense of self image. This is someone with a distinct sense of style, utilitarian as it may be. She has styled her hair, wears clawed earrings, and has that tattoo across her head, as well as the torn crop top. Despite her surroundings, Huntara has taken effort to make herself look good. She’s confident in herself.

The strength thing, on top of being the other seventy percent of her coolness factor, leads me into something weird about her design: she looks like Adora. Bear with me on this one.

This isn’t exact. Don’t get me wrong, the designs aren’t a one-to-one thing. Her design just has the same energy as Adora’s. The short jacket, with its jagged collar, kinda matches Adora’s jacket. But where Huntara’s is open (remember this too), showing off her strength and confidence, Adora’s is closed in, restricting her and keeping her polished and refined. I mean “polished and refined” here in less of a mark of quality, but more in the sense that she has a lot holding her back and holding her down.

Similarly, Adora has those shoulder pauldrons, making herself look bigger, like a prey animal with false eyes. But Huntara has boxy shoulders that form a shape language, as she has actually developed the defences Adora pretends to have. In that way, she acts as a more completed version of Adora, which is interesting.

Finally, there is that hair, which is put up in a similar way to Adora’s, not the same, but alike enough to make the silhouettes echo. The shot below is about as much proof I have for this crackpot theory.

But she’s not exactly a good role model, is she? She’s duplicitous, which harks back to those ideas of revelations and second glances that I mentioned earlier. But she’s also standoffish, at which point I will bring back those elements of her design I said to remember, the spear, the partial armour, and the open jacket.

Huntara isn’t emotionally healthy, she has just dealt with PTSD in a different way to Adora, she has run. She has adapted to keeping things at a distance, and not letting people get close, exemplified by the polearm that doubles as a long range weapon. She is also terrifying, which also helps her stay isolated.

This all covers up for the fact that she has very few emotional defences. She is only partially armoured, and despite her best efforts, she has nothing protecting her heart. Adora brings up something that is a little too close to Huntara for comfort, then asks her about it, and her only reaction is to make a threat.

She does this twice in this episode. She feels emotionally vulnerable, and immediately pins the cause of that vulnerability to the closest wall. It's as if it's a stock reaction.

“Huntara doesn’t run from anything. I want to be here.”

I call bollocks on that. It’s a mantra, a myth, not an actual response. It’s like saying “haven’t you heard the legend”. But I actually want to talk about the vernacular a bit here.

The second sentence is reminiscent of a character not yet mentioned in this episode. She has intellectually acknowledged that things are bad, but she has convinced herself, emotionally, that this is where she wants to be. She wants this, this is her life, she cannot be out of control. Similarly, if things go wrong, it’s what she deserves, because she wanted this. If the phrasing of that and the need for a feeling of control doesn’t sound exactly like Catra, I don’t know what does.

On a different note, the third person thing isn’t done by many other people in this series, but isn’t it a funny coincidence that two of the people who do it are in the same place at the same time? Who could have foreseen this?

Putting it mildly, Adora, throughout the series, has an identity crisis going on. She cannot decide if she is Adora or She-Ra, and it leads into a true Jeckyl and Hyde plot that I discussed in more detail in this post, which manifests most acutely as her referring to herself in third person. When she is most powerful, she is She-Ra, and Adora is a different person. But when she is feeling weak, she is Adora, and She-Ra will save her.

Although, in another weird twist of fate, Huntara knows more about She-Ra than anyone else besides Razz and Light Hope, because she has heard of the legends and has studied what Mara left behind, she gives us a summary of what this whole She-Ra thing is, through all the biases of Adora and Mara. So don’t think this line escaped me:

“She-Ra is a person?”

From everything that Huntara has seen and heard, nothing has told her that She-Ra is an individual. Instead, it's a thing to be revered, a concept rather than an identity and this is… correct?

She-Ra isn’t another person who Adora becomes, it isn’t an identity for Adora to assume, its something to be, like a hero, or a friend. It’s a facet of Adora, rather than her whole being. But Adora can’t see that, because of the aforementioned identity crisis.

I mentioned in my last post that season three gets as close as this series gets to evading the tragic format without actually breaking free, and I think that the talk of identity is a good place to explain where Adora fits into this.

Adora’s tragic flaw is also her greatest strength. She thinks incredibly quickly. This makes her a phenomenal tactician in the short term but causes her to be incredibly shortsighted. This is in contrast to Catra, who is always about ten steps ahead of everyone, ut can’t see the forest for the trees most of the time.

So, Adora internalises things quickly, and a majour side effect of this is that she doesn’t always complete things rationally. Her identity problem isn’t so much this incarnate as just this problem exactly.

She has been given a magic sword and told a bunch of things about it, and she has taken that at face value and moved on, internalising this in a way that isn’t accurate. She is She-Ra, but that doesn’t remove everything else about her.

Adora has been tossing up the idea of giving up her past and embracing this new identity that she has been given, and season three presents her moving away from that idea. Huntara is an example of that extreme, and it isn’t enviable.

But at the end of the season… well, you will just have to wait for more of my blog to see how that works out.

Or you could just watch the show.

Lastly, I would like to talk about Hordack and Entrapta, because their scenes in this episode are both really cute and really thematic.

The reveal of Hordack’s frailty plays into that idea of revelations that I have been talking about, but it also plays into his and Entrapta’s themes of failure and self worth and sets up those themes in Horde Prime.

Stylisation is something that this series plays around with a lot when it comes to backstories and asides (I conveniently have a post talking about this idea in detail), and that comes back for Hordack’s flashback.

This is simple, incredibly so. There are simple shapes, and very few colours on display. It is flat, but in a way that is very clearly intentional. Hordak has an extremely simple worldview. He isn’t a two dimensional character, but like Glimmer, he sees the world in an overly reductive way.

The colouration also sets Horde Prime out from the rest of the scene here, holding him up on a pedestal. Hordak and everything around him is a shade of red, orange, or yellow. It’s warm in tone, but also blends together with the purple to make Hordak look at home, and one with his surroundings. But Horde Prime stands out, and the eye of the viewer is drawn to him because of that abrasive green. He is at the centre of Hordak’s mind.

The flashback does this multiple times, using that green like a highlighter to focus the viewer's eye on the most important part of the image.

Also, this looks like a political poster, doesn’t it? It’s propaganda, and Hordak has taken it, hook line and sinker. That actually serves to explain the flat stylisation, it’s conveying simple ideas. Horde Prime doesn’t get any detail to what he actually looks like other than “he probably looks like Hordak” and “he’s got a cape and that collar thing”. This is the idea of Horde Prime, not the actual guy. We are looking at the pedestal this character stands upon, rather than the character itself.

That collar thing is actually a neat little character design element that is reflected in Hordak until this episode. Entrapta replaces it with her armour, and I think its important that Entrapta and Horde Prime are immediately presented as opposites.

The literal only thing we learn about Horde Prime’s personality in this episode is that he doesn’t particularly like individuality. Failure, defects, and deviations are all worthy of being killed for. You have to prove your worth, instead of it being assumed. And even then, I am inclined to doubt whether Hordak will be able to prove himself, no matter what he does.

Entrapta is villainous, kinda. She is aligned with a machine of war and death, which isn’t the most ethically sound of activities. But, she opposes the main villain of this story on principle.

“Everybody needs help sometimes. And you shouldn't be upset that you're not perfect. Take Emily! Her programming is glitchy, the left leg sticks, and she's loud. Emily's got quirks, but that's why I like her. Imperfection is what makes scientific experimentation possible. Imperfection is beautiful. At least to me. … And you're really too obsessed with this whole failure thing, I mean, I'm a failure... I don't fit in. I became friends with Adora, but she abandoned me. Then, I became friends with Catra, but she doesn't talk to me anymore. But that doesn't mean I give up. I scrounged up a few more pieces of First Ones Tech, and I can't think of a better use for it than this.”

Imperfection is beautiful.

There is also the scientific aspect of Entrapta, which I think hasn’t been discussed that much. She-ra makes a point of equating the natural with the good, and the artificial with the bad. But Entrapta is a scientist and an inventor, where does she fit into that?

Curiosity. Science is the study of the world. It is a means of learning more about nature, and to create things from that nature. She experiments, and understands. Imperfection is beautiful, and if there is one thing nature is good at, it’s variation.

Entrapta doesn’t exist in contrast to nature, but parallel to it. All she does is express the natural aspect of this story in a different way to everyone else.

Final Thoughts

The sound design of this episode is unrivalled so far in the series, and it will get better over time. The sting at the start with the skeleton is perfectly unsettling, and the ambience of the Wastes is superb.

Also, the cinematography of the fight in this episode is really well done, filled with motion and dynamism and tactical expressions of character. The sword duel is cool, and the fact that Glimmer is out for blood isn’t really dwelled upon, but it's notable that both of the goons she fights survive the experience through sheer force of luck.

However, Huntara figuring out Adora was from the Horde because of how she fights was a little weak to me. “I recognise that training”, really? Not the boots? Not the fact that she keeps bringing up the Horde? Ok.

Next week, I will be looking at One Upon A Time In The Wastes, so stick if that interests you.

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