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loriache · 21 days

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"I've been waiting for ages for somebody to unmask them."

This moment tends to elicit negative reactions in a first read through, and I've got some opinions about why where Kabru is coming from here actually makes a lot of logical sense. So I thought I'd elaborate on that.

I think people hear this and go, "He thinks they must be hiding something because they gave money to someone? What a cynic." Or "he dislikes them because they did charity?? What's wrong with this guy!". And obviously, a lot, a lot is wrong with him. But I think this makes more sense than it seems at first glance! What people evaluating this judgement miss is why Kabru is paying attention to Laios and co to begin with.

Kabru knows of the Touden siblings because (he's a little bit of a stalker-) he is keeping an eye on all the relevant parties in events developing on the island, in order to be able to guide them to his preferred outcome. This includes adventurers because they are the ones actually exploring the dungeon! He's well aware that something as minor as internal tensions between party members could be key to the historical events that are developing. (He would love the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.)

His desired outcome is that whatever the rewards are of breaking the dungeon's curse, whether that's kingship or the ancient elven secrets of dungeons, are claimed by:

A) a short lived person

B) Someone who will be a good, effective leader and/or use those secrets and the power they carry wisely, with foresight, and to establish a political bloc for short lived people.

The person he can best trust to do this is, of course, himself. But due to his PTSD regarding dungeons and monsters, he's not able to develop the necessary skills to conquer the dungeon. Once he realises this, he starts looking for someone else who he can support to that end.

But most of the adventurers don't have any intentions of conquering the dungeon, don't have the skills, or are unsuitable in other ways. In fact, it seems like some potentially suitable people are the Toudens. There are a lot of good rumours about them going around - they actually seem to have a very positive reputation! That's what Kabru means when he says "unmask".

So when Kabru is observing something like them giving money to an old comrade from their gold-peeling days, he doesn't consider it a problem because "they're giving money to this person who doesn't actually need it" or because they must have some dark secret if they act superficially nice. I think he actually understands this situation and what it implies about Laios (in particular) perfectly well.

Laios and Falin gave money to an old comrade who got injured and couldn't work. That person then healed up but kept taking their money. Then he used the money to start smuggling illicit goods to the island.

The key is that for Kabru, the problem here is the same as with the corpse retrievers - people using the dungeon's resources to fuel dangerous, selfish, or violent pursuits cause problems for the island, attract more criminals and people with motives other than breaking the curse, and increase the chances of the whole situation ending in tragedy.

Kabru is willing to work with the Shadow Lord of the island if it gets him to his goal - he isn't scrupulous - but the criminal element of the island increasing is something he sees as a major issue.

Also, when you're evaluating someone as a candidate for power, riches, secrets, potentially kingship - then being curious about how the money you give to people is going to be used is kind of a relevant trait!

Interpersonally, Kabru's actually very easygoing - I mean, Mickbell isn't exactly an upstanding guy, is he! But Kabru likes him and they get along well. These traits wouldn't be a problem at all in a friend, or a comrade, or someone Kabru was confident he could use. But he can't get a handle on Laios, and Laios is someone who has the potential to be a major player!

On Laios' end, this is the same as with the marriage seeker who joined their party. She kept asking for things and he gave them to her, because he tries to be nice to others. He even gives her money! It's the exact same thing.

That's fine, but it became a problem because he basically wasn't interested in her motives, didn't notice she was trying to manipulate him, and it also didn't occur to him that the other party members would notice or be affected. We can assume the situation with the gold peeler is the same. When Kabru says that "It's not that they're bad people, they just aren't interested in humans," he isn't wrong.

The extent to which this is true of Laios is linked to his autism imo, (because it isn't just disinterest - he genuinely isn't able to notice nonverbal cues that people are lying to him or have ulterior motives) but to a greater or lesser extent I think it's a very common trait. Most people aren't actually that interested in other people who aren't close to them. Kabru is the weird one here. It isn't an issue except as a leader - which is why we see an immediate comparison to the Island's Lord, because that's how Kabru is evaluating them.

And disinterest in/lack of ability with people to the extent Laios exhibits it, it does, actually, make him a worse leader... it's just that as we see in the story, people can help him out. The rest of the party tell him the marriage seeker is taking advantage of him so he tells her he can't give her special treatment anymore. They're pissed and it's a crisis point - he couldn't have recovered their trust without Marcille and Falin - but that's exactly the point. With Marcille and Falin, he was able to recover their trust.

And he has other good traits that make up for it, such as his intelligence, strategic knowledge, open-mindedness and sense of fairplay.

Kabru doesn't disqualify Laios as a candidate based on what he sees about him from afar, though - he still tries very hard to get close to him, obviously hoping that if he manages he can steer Laios to defeat the dungeon and make up for his lack of people-skills in the aftermath. (Which... he does eventually achieve that goal!) He completely fails until the events of the story, so... definitely I think "They just aren't interested in humans" could also partially be a stung reaction to Laios' complete disinterest in him.

Anyway, that's my read on what exactly Kabru's "issue" with Laios is. Obviously, once he does find out what Laios' true nature is like - about his love for monsters - he develops an entirely new set of fears about Laios' priorities. But since Laios kept that a secret until the start of the story, he has no idea of that yet.

Given all that, I think it's interesting that he says that he doesn't think that the Toudens are suitable to defeat the dungeon, and that he's hoping they'll turn out to be the thieves. As some of his few potential candidates, people who he thinks may play a big role in the island's future, you'd think he'd hope they would be good people!

I suppose it's better, in his eyes, because it means that he's involved in something "interesting". They haven't just had their stuff stolen by regular criminals (boring, puts them further away from his goal) - they've been caught up in the beginning stages of "a historic event". The desperate and dwindling group forgetting morals in their quest to retrieve their lost comrade probably appeals to his sense of melodrama. Because he also just... loves drama.

Despite it being "uglier than anything he was expecting", he still pursues Laios as the person he wants to conquer the dungeon pretty much as soon as it becomes clear that he won't be able to do it himself and they are out of time. That's because... well, to be fair, there aren't any other options. And he fits standard A: he's short-lived!

and Kabru still hopes he can fit standard B, too, and be persuaded to use the power he wins for good. No matter how many nightmares he has about Laios, or whether he thinks about killing him. He doubts him, but ultimately he puts his faith in him and seems happy after the manga's ending that he made the right decision.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi manga spoilers #dungeon meshi meta #kabru of utaya #laios touden #labru #laios x kabru #dunmeshi #og post #kabru is such a big picture thinker. and he evaluates people more than he judges them imo #the hater jokes are funny but the people he judges most harshly arent laios and co. they're people like the island's lord.#but you don't see that as clearly because he isn't interested in the island's lord. he understands him. finds him contemptible but useful.#whereas laios lives in his brain rent free because he WANTS to understand him but doesnt quite.#even though he sees the elves as a major threat to his ultimate goals and dislikes the way they treat short lived races #he still understands and evaluates mithrun as an individual based on his own merits #he's one of the characters who is least judgemental in that sense because while he's always making judgements and evaluations #he's also constantly revising them whenever he gets more information #my beautiful machiavellian prince <3 #it's genuinely a really laudable way of understanding others imo.#the only problem is that because he's driven towards his goals by his PTSD and survivors guilt #he pushes himself into situations (the dungeon and also interpersonally) that trigger him or even just upset him #without regard for what he authentically wants or his own wellbeing.

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kissatoru · 8 months

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★ ₊˚ WEAK FOR YOU

content. college au, dom/sub dynamics, bratty sub!eren, mean to soft dom!reader, gn!reader, dry humping, humiliation, nipple play, degradation, praise, edging, handjob, blowjob

wc. ~6.8k

house parties aren’t really your thing. you’ve been to a few but you quickly discovered that they involve a lot more vomit and interpersonal drama than you have the tolerance for, so you tend to avoid them. you would’ve turned down the invitation for this one too, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was eren jaeger who offered it up to you. that’s why you’re here, at the house of someone who’s a friend of a friend’s friend, at sometime past midnight. you’re leaning against the wall, sipping on a half-empty can of pop.

you finally spot eren, making his way over to you with a grin much too wide for someone who’s late to a party he invited you to. he looks good, dressed in a white tank top that brings out the musculature of his arms and black skinny jeans you’ve only ever seen him wear to parties like this one, since he usually wears sweatpants everywhere else. his hair is half-down and half-up in a bun, not too different from the usual messy man bun he goes for.

once he arrives at your side, beer can in hand, you exchange greetings and small talk, talking about nothing and everything. in the middle of a conversation, some drunk rando throws up by your feet, so you and eren migrate to a different room. on the way though, another person bumps into you and spills their drink down your shirt. it doesn’t help that you were already damp with sweat from how hot and stuffy it is, as well as nauseous from the lingering stench of vomit mixed with alcohol and BO. you meet their eyes with hellfire on your tongue and in any other situation, you would’ve let it loose, but the way they paw at your clothes and slur their apology reminds you that you’re in a house full of clumsy idiots just like them, so you just shrug it off and focus on finding a bathroom to clean up in.

that’s what eren likes about you. you’re down-to-earth and keep to yourself, but don’t let people walk over you and speak out when you need to; you’re not exactly timid, but you’re soft-spoken in a way that suits your voice and nice to people without being overly nice. oh and don’t get him started on your witty humour and the way you play off other people’s jokes so effortlessly; even when you shake your head or roll your eyes or just ignore him after he tells a joke that doesn’t land, he’s buzzing. that’s why he’s been ogling you during your shared lectures, the reason he keeps ‘losing’ his pens and asking to borrow from you, the reason he keeps ‘forgetting’ to give them back, the reason he asked you out to this party! something about you just got eren hooked, to the point that he couldn’t stop thinking about you, to the point he would wake up with a boner almost every morning and jerk off from what he remembered of his dreams about you; to the point those dreams turned into fantasies, imagining what your body looks like under your clothes, what your moans sound like, what faces you’d make.

you, on the other hand, didn’t have any strong feelings toward eren until later. you thought of him as kind of average, if not a little loud and annoying at times, such as when he disrupted class, but in a word, tolerable, and definitely not the worst classmate you’ve ever had. usually, you’d never give a guy like him the time of day unless he actually tried to pursue you (instead of just flirting and joking around aimlessly) but your interest was piqued after your friends passed on to you some rumours about him being a self-proclaimed ‘hardcore dom’. from that point on, you were just as hooked. you became less dismissive and a little more friendly, playing along with his game — long enough so that he’d never see it coming once you finally sunk your claws into him.

that’s why, when you finally find the bathroom, you stop in the doorway, turn to eren in your stained shirt and say, “do you mind helping me clean up?”

the excitement in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he answers a nonchalant, “yeah, sure,” and follows you inside. the soft click of the lock has eren’s pulse jumping because he knows exactly where this is going. he knew you had to feel something back, that you couldn’t resist his advances forever. his eyes scan you shamelessly while you pull your top over your head and start wiping your chest down with a towel. he leans against the door and comments, “hey now, you might give a guy the wrong idea taking off your clothes like that,” and that’s what sets everything else into motion.

“yeah?” you say as you step closer. your voice is hushed, lowered, as if to whisper a dirty secret. “how do you know it’s the wrong idea?”

eren falters at your forwardness, but runs a palm over his hair and regains his composure. “i guess i don’t,” he says, not even trying to hide the way he’s staring at your lips. “so, is it?” his dark gaze flicks back up to your eyes. “the wrong idea?”

you smile and make sure to bat your eyelashes extra prettily as you whisper, “why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

his lips are on you as soon as you finish the question and his hands grasp at you while he backs you up against the door. he kisses you feverishly and as impatiently as you’ve been feeling this entire night. you let him kiss along your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone, but before he can get too carried away, you guide him back to your lips. this time, you take over leadership in the kiss. eren smirks, mistaking it for eagerness, until a skilled tongue slides into his mouth and your hands begin to touch him with confidence and ease. his breath hitches once, twice, and it only spirals from there. he’s gasping and panting in seconds, overwhelmed and barely managing to keep up. slowly but surely, you’re pushing back, and he can feel himself giving in, involuntarily yielding to you like it’s a biological instinct. he doesn’t even realise how bad it is until it’s too late, until his back is pressed against the door and his centre of gravity becomes you, staring at him with a look he’s never seen on your face before.

“you’re real pretty, you know that, right?” you tell him as you tuck some of the loose hair from his bun behind his ear. eren opens his mouth, presumably to bark out a retort at your (what he believes to be) demeaning choice of words, but all that comes out is a quiet moan as your knee rides up between his legs. you take advantage of that and slip your thumb inside, pressing down on his tongue and opening his mouth wider. “so pretty,” you add in a croon, but then he brings his teeth down and bites your thumb. you don’t give him the satisfaction of a pained reaction, settling for a disappointed glare and a tight grip of his jaw. “don’t be a brat now, jaeger. you don’t wanna know what i do to brats.” interestingly, the lump against your knee twitches. you arch an eyebrow. “oh? or maybe you do?”

his eyes are on yours, seemingly stern and rebellious but you know it’s just a ruse; you know begging for mercy when you see it. such eyes suit him, you’ll give him that, but you’d have to be a fool not to take this opportunity, to give him that final nudge, those final few centimetres he needs to be all yours. so you whisper into his ear, the kinds of things he’s used to saying and worse, until he’s flushed and speechless, stuttering over his breaths and holding back whines. it’s almost too easy when you lean down to his neck, and he just lifts his chin and gives it to you, without you even having to ask. you reward him with red kisses and purple lovebites that have the skin beneath your lips thrumming with suppressed moans. it’s such a treat too, how affected he is when you’ve barely even started.

some part of eren is still screaming at him to steal back his dignity and the role he’s made a reputation out of, but his pants are damp and so tight it hurts, it’s really not his fault when he starts grinding against your knee in search of relief. you find it adorable, really, and smirk against his neck as you press your knee forward in an act of pity. a whimper slips from him and he ruts against you faster, more desperately, so desperately. he almost sobs because he was sure your actions would be as cruel as your words, but he’s too caught up in chasing his high to feel relieved or thankful. he focuses only on moving his hips, back and forth, back and forth, and holy shit, is he really about to cum already? in his pants, like some teenager?

he stops his movements, shaking with the effort of keeping still. with clammy hands, he hurries to undo his jeans, but you snatch them away and pin them to the wall. your curled lips indicate that you understand the situation just fine without an explanation, yet you still have the audacity to say, “what’s the matter? don’t you wanna cum?” your tone all flowery and pure as you pick up where he left off, mercilessly rubbing his cock through the fabric.

“no, no, no, fuck,” eren chokes out, even as he betrays himself by meeting your knee halfway, but he just can’t stop! his peak is drawing closer and closer and his downward motions just get harder and faster. it feels so good and he’s so, so close–

“don’t cum yet.”

eren’s first thought is: how the fuck is he supposed to do that? but then his second thought is: why would he listen to you anyway? what authority do you have over him? and yet what comes out of his mouth is, “please–”

“begging so soon?” you say against his lips. “that’s sweet, it really is.” you let go of his wrists and trail your hands down his arms to his chest, then over a nipple experimentally, grinning when you feel it pebble under your light touch. you give it some more attention, circling and rubbing it through the fabric until eren’s hands are clutching your shoulders and he’s curling in on himself trying to escape the foreign sensation. he never thought that part of his body could feel... good?

you suddenly pinch and twist it and eren whines. the pain is sharp, and yet that’s what has his orgasm returning. with only a few more grinds against your knee, it’s hitting him fast, from all angles, and the thing he’s been dreading finally comes true. he soaks his underwear with cum, hot and sticky and disgusting. he moans weakly, digging his blunt fingernails into your shoulders as his head raises up against the door.

you sigh, disappointed. “i didn’t say you could cum.”

eren is standing there, trying to catch his breath and too out of it to respond to you, when you suddenly grab him through his pants. his back arches at the overstimulation and you’re smiling because of course you are as your hand massages over his bulge and the horrid squelching sounds remind him of his shame. he tries to get away from the stimulation, gasping out, “stop, stop, stop!” but when you don’t hear that lovely ‘please’ you only quicken your ministrations.

“you’re such a pervert, eren,” you taunt, soft and sultry, as if you weren’t humiliating him with your words. “cumming in your pants from having your nipples played with? and it’s only been like, what, a minute?”

his cheeks turn pink, his eyebrows knit together, and all he can say is a shaky, “shut up.”

you snicker. “aw, don’t be embarrassed. it’s cute! you’re just like a virgin.”

“i’m not a virgin,” he croaks out, and it’s true, but you pretend to be unconvinced so you can watch him rush to make you believe him while his face blooms a darker shade of pink and his cock hardens at your touch — or maybe your words? either way, you continue palming him until his defiant expression fades, until it’s replaced by parted lips and hooded eyes.

then you pull away, just as he’s starting to buck into your palm. you relish the way he looks at you, so questioning and betrayed. you wish you could see what other faces you can get him to make, but now that you’ve given him a taste, you intend to take it all away. it’s the funnest part of this all; leaving him wanting after planting the seed of what could be into his mind, letting him continue with his life of hook-ups and one-night-stands before he inevitably comes running back to you. it would be so easy now to lose your patience and ravage him like a starved man, sure, but that takes away the fun in taking him apart piece by piece. you’ve come all this way; it would be a shame not to savour it.

“why did you stop?”

there it is, you think, and you can’t help smiling. “you told me to,” you answer as you take a step back. eren stands there, the start of a protest falling from his lips. you don’t wait for him to finish, instead reaching for your shirt and putting it back on.

“hey,” eren scoffs and grabs your arm. “you can’t just leave.” his tone is light-hearted, but you can tell he’s being serious, and that it’s more like a plea rather than the statement it’s phrased as.

“oh, can’t i?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “why not?”

eren looks at you, then his crotch. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this lost for words.

you just laugh through your nose, like he’s told a bad joke. “this is your punishment, eren. you should remember it next time you think about disobeying me.” you wave your hand for him to move, but he lingers, so you give him a pointed look, a silent demand. he steps out of the way and you open the door. “see you in class on monday,” you say over your shoulder before shutting the door behind you.

standing there with his heart still pounding with adrenaline, eren realises that he was right before; your actions are as cruel as your words, crueller even, he just guessed too soon. he should be livid — you’ve left him covered in hickeys, with an aching boner and cum that’s still warm in his pants — but all he can think about is two words: next time. even after days have passed, he doesn’t stop thinking about them. he clings to them like a lifeline, every day and every class with you after that; turning those words over, listening to the echo of your voice in his mind, the way your lips moved around those two bittersweet syllables. he thinks about them for an entire three weeks before they finally come into existence thanks to a class assignment that gets the two of you paired up.

you avoid inviting him over too soon, purposely offering to meet up at cafés and the campus library. at first, they were nothing more than that: just doing actual work for the assignment. but soon enough, you start to tease and distract him; a foot skimming his inner calf one too many times to be an accident, a hand on his thigh that rubs up and down but never more. it’s torture, yet eren feels giddy at the prospect of it leading up to something more, every single time, wondering if this will be the time you go further.

there’s one time he’s sure you will. it starts out innocent, you asking him to get a book that’s too high up for you. as he reaches for it, his shirt lifts up, revealing a strip of his v-line and the waistband of his boxers, how the edge of skin above it is slightly paler, where his tan didn’t reach...

it’s gone as soon as it appears and usually your thoughts would vanish with it — except the aisle happens to be dowsed in shadows from a broken light and the closest person around is on the other side of the library. so instead of your urges slipping away, it’s your self-restraint, and rather than taking the book, you take his wrist. then you pin him to wall and use your other hand to push his lips into yours, all in one fell swoop. the intensity with which you kiss him and the way you have him pressed against the wall brings him back to that night. he kisses back just as passionately, all slippery saliva and clashing teeth. he’s sweating already, hot with the thrill of what else you’re willing to do, how far you’re willing to go in a public place like this. would you touch him? make him cum in his pants? leave him hard?

a hand clutching onto your shirt brings you back to your senses. you pull away and eren tries to chase your lips, but you catch his jaw before he can. he’s still panting from the residual excitement of earlier. his eyes stare at you, puppy-like in the way they speak a silent plea and twinkle with the reflection of the library ceiling lights behind you. you just smile and pet his spit-slick lips with a thumb, the gentle touch distracting him long enough for you to grab the book he’s still holding and step back. “thanks,” you say, gesturing to the book before walking away.

just seconds ago, eren’s mind was racing with thoughts, but as he stares at your retreating back, his only thought is that you really are cruel — and yet it is that thought, and that moment, that replay in his head that very night as he’s roughly pumping his cock and cumming in his underwear, if only to pretend you forced him to, just like back then. he’s pathetic, he knows that, but at the same time, it’s all he can do. he just feels so... he doesn’t even know what to call it, but it has him drooling after everything you do. he’s never felt this way about anyone. he’s only ever slept around with people, too afraid of committment for even friends with benefits or a situationship. he’s not even all that great with friendships, with only two friends he’s been lucky enough to have by his side since childhood, and a few guys he talks to and has lunch with at uni, but never actually hangs out with outside of class. but you? you have something that makes him want to stay, to keep going after you; you’re the reason he hasn’t slept with anyone since the party. he’s tried to, but it’s just not the same. he feels like you’ve ruined him for everyone else. that’s why he has no other choice but to fuck his fist after every meet-up with you, imagining it as your fist while the words you left him with loop in his head.

it isn’t until over halfway through the project that eren’s pining finally reaches its peak with a single message:

let’s work at my place today, usual time

the way it’s not a question does something to him, which is when he realises how pent-up he is. he knows he shouldn’t get his hopes up, but by the time he reaches your dorm, he’s already half-hard. he wipes his sweaty hands off on his tee and adjusts himself in his sweatpants before knocking on your door. when you open it, you’re in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, legs bare and feet clad in slippers.

“you’re early,” you say as eren strolls inside.

he scoffs. “not on purpose,” he says, hoping you don’t see through his façade (you do). he slides his hands into his pockets and takes a look around your room. various shelves and decoration on your walls, reflecting your interests; memorabilia and clutter on different surfaces and furniture. some clothes thrown over your desk chair, a few plants and books. there’s a scent in the air too, not too strong but prominent and uniquely you.

“when you’re done snooping around my room like a creep,” you call out from your bed, “we should get on with the assignment.” your fingers clack away on your laptop keyboard for a bit before looking at eren. “i know the deadline’s next friday but i’d rather get it done as soon as, y’know?”

eren’s stomach drops. he completely forgot the real reason he was invited here; the innocent reason he was invited here. your tone was casual, gave no indication that you knew, yet as he stands there in front of you, he feels like you’re in his head. do you know the effect you had on him at the party? the effect you continue to have on him? shit, eren thinks, as he clenches and unclenches his fists. he wants to respond, play it off cool and act like he only agreed to come so enthusiastically because he cares about his grades, but his mind is blank.

“cat got your tongue?” you tease, shifting into a position that has you face-on to eren. then you slide to the edge of the bed and lean forward. “why so quiet, jaeger? that’s not like you, your loud mouth usually always has something to say.” those scrutinising eyes scan him from head to toe. slowly. “and where are all the materials anyway? the ones you were meant to bring? for the assignment?”

he feels caught, trapped like prey, and with every few-second flick of your eyes, every purposely chosen word and perfectly timed pause, he feels himself get smaller and smaller.

“don’t tell me,” you start, but with those three words alone, eren already knows his fate has been sealed, “you thought we wouldn’t actually be doing the assignment?” you’re smiling now, the same smile you had in that bathroom three weeks ago as you palmed him through his cum-soaked pants. “what did you think we were going to do, huh? please, tell me...” your eyes narrow into slits and your lips stretch out in a smile, showing off teeth that flash like a predator’s. “i am so curious.”

you’re pushing his buttons, making him feel like the desperate one, and maybe he is, but could you blame him? eren just wants another taste of what you gave him at the party, and most of all, he wants you. he realises that maybe you really did just send that text with the intention of working on the assignment, but there’s no denying that in this moment, that’s not what this is; in this moment, you’re nudging him forward after toying with his sexual frustration, and in this moment, eren decides to put a stop to it.

he stomps forward until he’s looming over you, a sharp scowl twisting his features. “stop playing dumb, (name). you know damn well what you were doing when you sent me that text,” he snarls, sea green eyes stormy and narrowed. “i’m done with these games, alright? if you’re not going to take responsibility for making me like this, then– then i will.” he almost falters from the weight of your eyes, the way they just sit there, waiting and unfazed, but he steels his composure. “you’re just a brat anyway,” he says, leaning in. “all you really want is for someone to put you back in your place.”

that smile hasn’t left; hasn’t so much as twitched. in the position you’re in, you’re looking up at him, but the way you’re doing it makes it feel as though eren is the one looking up, the one being looked down on. “well... you’re right about me knowing what i was doing,” you admit, “but the rest? not so much. not for me, anyway.” you trace the collar of eren’s t-shirt with your fingertips, drag your palm down his chest...

you suddenly bunch up the fabric and yank it with a tight fist. your other hand catches eren’s shoulder and keeps him steady as his palms land on either side of you, knees bent and head in the crook of your neck. “come now, jaeger. do you really think i’m the brat in this situation?” you say softly, your breath warm and your lips featherlight as they graze his ear lobe. “put me back in my place?” you giggle quietly and it reverberates through eren’s skull like a thunder clap. “does that really sound like something you want to do to me?” he can feel the way you smile against the shell of his ear, the wetness of your teeth. “or is that just the only way you know how to ask for something to be done to you?”

eren is hidden in your neck yet he feels completely exposed. he wants to mask the way your words make his breathing stutter, but when you’re this close, even he knows it’s no use. all he can do is stay right where he is, frozen in a mixture of embarrassment and anticipation.

you shove eren back and he crumbles to the floor on all fours. “that’s more like it.” you tilt your head at him as he sits up on his knees. “doesn’t this feel so much better?”

eren doesn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but it does feel better. his gaze drops to his lap in shame but that’s where he sees the even more shameful bulge that’s formed between his legs. he instinctually covers it up, but he’s too late, and his attempt at hiding it only confirms what you already know. you reach over and angle his head up by his chin. you have an unimpressed expression on your face, but your eyes contrast it with their fiery intrigue. “wow, eren,” you say through an amused sigh as you lean in close to his face. “are you seriously hard right now?”

he swallows nervously and presses his thighs together. his breathing is already faltering in his chest, but he tries to keep it steady as he replies, “you can’t blame me. you’ve been teasing me ever since you left me at the party. just like this.”

a hand yanks his head back by his hair and eren is unable to stop the moan that escapes him. he chews on his lip as you sneer down at him. “being left like that was exactly what you deserved,” you mutter, then you raise your eyebrows, feigning a contemplative expression, “but maybe another, harsher punishment is what you need to learn your lesson, hm?”

eren’s dick twitches and he would’ve nodded too, if he didn’t register at the last minute that punishments aren’t meant to be enjoyed.

you catch it anyway, and scoff. “of course, you’d like that, you fucking whore.” you let go of his hair and lean back. eren stares at you, confused, until you pat your lap. “sit,” you tell him. your posture is relaxed, in contrast to his, which tenses as he straddles your lap, resting his hands on your shoulders. your eyes widen and you smile incredulously. “i guess leaving you like that wasn’t entirely useless, huh?” you laugh to yourself and massage along his hips and thighs before finally tugging the waistband of his sweatpants down, slowly, along with his underwear. a shudder runs down eren’s spine at the touch of cool air on his skin. his hard cock bumps against his abdomen, leaving behind a shiny smudge of precum. you tap his wet tip and draw circles around it, making eren hiss and briefly dig his nails into your shoulders.

“don’t–” he stops himself when you glance up at him.

your eyebrows raise. “what was that?” you ask, but he just swallows and remains silent. “use your manners, baby. you’ve done it once before, so i know you can.” your other hand snakes under his t-shirt and caresses his side. “don’t get shy now. if you’re cute enough, i might give you a reward.”

eren shifts in your lap. there’s a pause. then, “please.”

you chuckle. “come on, ‘ren,” you say, “you can do better than that.”

he looks exasperated, but tries again anyway. “please,” he repeats. “please just– just touch me. please.”

he makes it too easy to tease him, you think, as you grin wickedly. “but i’m touching you right now, aren’t i?”

eren groans. “yes but– you’re not–” he jumps as you dip your nail gently into his slit. “fuck, just put your hand around my cock please.”

you surprise him by doing exactly that, a loud moan being torn out of him. your grip is tight as you drag your fingers down his length, spreading his precum. with how pent up he’s been, eren feels like he’s close already. his body tingles with pleasure and anticipation. it’s almost too much, yet not enough, the way you slide your hand up then down, up then down, steady and unrushed. just as eren is about to ask you to go faster, you rotate your hand over his leaking tip and he chokes on his words. you do it again, and again, before returning to your previous motions. you repeat this, changing your pace a few times, just to watch him squirm, before resuming your steady pumping. eren begins to wonder if you’re waiting for him to beg more, if you’ll just keep doing this until he asks you to go faster, but the next time you change your pace, it’s fast and doesn’t stop, just goes even faster. eren stumbles over his breaths. he’s relieved, but at the same time it’s too fast. “fuck, slo– slow down,” he says in a strangled voice. he is hurtling toward his orgasm, he’s definitely not going to last. shit, how were you able to go so fast and hard at the same time? it felt like he was on fire. he’s so–

you stop.

a single meek drop of precum trickles down eren’s dick.

“no–” he groans. “what the fuck? why did– why didn’t you–”

“did you forget already?” you interrupt, grinning from ear to ear. eren’s lips remain pursed in frustration. “this is your punishment, remember?”

a range of emotions pass over eren’s face: realisation, horror, anger, desperation, self-pity. you watch his inner conflict set aflame, how he looks down at his aching dick, how his fingers twitch and one hand even goes as far as to dip down to try and touch himself, but you grab it and place it back around your neck. “only i get to touch you, and only i will decide when you get to cum,” you tell him and eren curses under his breath but stays put. from there, you go back to touching him. you bring him to the edge, over and over, abusing your knowledge of all his weak spots, squeezing and rubbing and pumping vigourously for what must be at least eight times; until his speech is slurred and his pleas are barely intelligible.

when you let go for the final time, you hear him sniffle against your neck.

“that bad, huh?” you mumble, mostly to yourself. you slip your hands beneath his shirt and trace the smooth plains of his torso, up and down, feeling the muscles ripple and writhe from the barely-there touch. “okay,” you say, “you’ve been good, so i’ll reward you now.” his hips jut out violently and grind against your stomach. you grab his drenched cock and suck your teeth in disapproval. “don’t ruin it by getting too greedy now, eren.”

he stares at you, turquoise irises engulfed in black pupils, and licks his lips. “what’s my reward?”

you just smile. “you’ll find out soon enough,” you answer. you pull up his waistband and snap it against his sensitive cock, making him yelp. “first, i want you to get up and take off your clothes.”

eren is eager and obeys quickly, making a show of it as he does; flexing his muscles a little more than necessary, his movements slow and sensual and tempting because that’s just how he’s done this every time before this. but the sooner that usual ego of his rises, the sooner it falls, because once he’s down to his last item of clothing — his boxers — he just stands there like he doesn’t know what to do next. he does, of course, but he’s feeling what seems like dread at the idea of being completely naked in front of you. not because he’s insecure, but the fact that it’s you he’s showing it to; you with your fox grins and cruel, humiliating words, your rough treatment and watchful eyes... fuck, just the thought is making him harder, and then even harder as he wonders if you can see it. will you point it out? will you make fun of him? call him names?

eren jumps when you graze his crotch with the end of your foot. “having second thoughts?” you say, teasing but serious all the same.

“no,” he says without hesitating.

“then go on.” you lift your foot and eren tenses in anticipation, but you just grin wider and point to the head of his dick, peering out slightly from his boxers, without touching it. “don’t keep me waiting.”

he slides the waistband down his thighs and lets it drop to his feet, then steps out and tosses the garment aside. you’re still fully clothed and relaxed while you look him up and down. eren slides a hand over the top of his hair, pushing away the fallen strands. he thought he felt exposed earlier, but now it’s even worse. your eyes are practically devouring him, but you can’t help it. the way he’s standing there, completely nude while you aren’t, waiting for your next command while staring at you with those dark aqua eyes from under pretty dark eyelashes. no number of late-night fantasising would do this sight justice, yet you wonder if you can make it even better. you wonder if you can push him just a little bit further, see how much more you can bend him before he breaks.

“you look nervous, eren,” you say. “are you sure you–”

“yes! yes, i’m sure,” he all but gasps out.

you arch an eyebrow at his interruption. “i was going to say are you sure you want this? are you sure you want me?” you clarify. “for all i know, you’re just a slut who’ll pounce on anyone. how do i know i’m not just a set of holes to you, hm?”

eren frowns. “no, that’s not–” he steps closer to you and sinks to his knees in front of you. “i only want you, (name). no one...” his cheeks flush hot and he looks away from your eyes. “no one else could fuck me as good as you.”

it’s not the entire truth and you know that. you’ve always been good at reading people. though eren may be better than the average person at lying, around you? all of that depletes and he becomes an open book. “and how would you know that?” you say as you lean back on your palms.

“i don’t,” eren says as he places his hands on your knees, “but maybe you can show me?”

it’s pathetic yet so beautiful to see a man like eren jaeger like this: on his knees and at your disposal. it’s almost a shame you couldn’t get here sooner, but you’ve always believed in delayed gratification, in trusting the process and the like; that’s why you adore men like him, who’ve only ever been doms and have never even considered anything else. it’s so much fun to string them along, allow them to unknowingly fall into a false sense of security, to make them think you’re just another obedient little sub, and how once you’ve built that up enough, breaking them is all the sweeter.

the shift of you leaning forward makes eren sit up. he’s not sure what he’s expecting, but you gently petting his hair definitely isn’t it. he melts, dropping his head and resting his cheek against your knee, just like you thought he would. after all, you noticed that pushing back loose hair is a nervous tic of his, and so naturally this kind of touch comforts him. you smile fondly at that.

the tender moment is broken by eren humping your leg. you’re not sure if he even realises he’s doing it. his eyes are shut and he’s whimpering like a dog. the grasp he has around your knees tightens. “eren,” you say to him and he seems to regain some awareness, stopping his movement and looking up at you. “would you like your reward?”

he breathes out like he’s been holding it. “please.”

you pat the space behind you. “come lay down.”

he does so and you wait for him to get comfortable before perching yourself on his lap. you begin by sliding your hands up his torso and back down again, tracing the dips and curves of his body. you litter kisses from his neck to his collarbone and chest. your breath ghosts over a nipple and eren shivers. you take a second to smile before flicking your tongue over the dark pink bud. his chest raises off the bed and into your mouth as you latch onto the nub and swirl your tongue around it. your hand makes work of his other nipple and eren’s hips buck into you. a string of spit forms and snaps as you pull away and resume your path down his torso, pecking down his belly, hip and finally, his inner thigh. you feel eren squirm as your cool breaths hit his drooling cock. you flatten your tongue and lick up from the base, kissing the tip wetly before taking it into your mouth and sucking hard. eren throws his head back and moans, fallen strands fanning out against the pillows. his hips are restless, so you hold them down while you slide down to the base, then back up to suck on the tip again. your motions are smooth, aided by saliva and precum, as you begin to bob your head up and down his length.

eren’s fingers find your hair and cling there. you break away to mutter a cautionary, “easy,” then swallow down his cock again, moving quicker now. with how you’ve been teasing and edging him, you suspect that he’ll cum soon. his sounds get higher and louder, more frequent, and every so often the hands on your head flinch or scratch or curl.

“i’m close, i’m close,” eren warns through laboured breaths. his skin is damp with sweat, long strands sticking to his forehead in curled shapes. “please le– let me cum.”

you answer him by not stopping, by using your hand to pump the bottom half of his cock while continuing to suck on the rest with hollowed cheeks and wet lips.

“fuck, m’gonna c– ah! fuck, please let– please!” his back arches, sheets peeling off his skin before he collapses again, abdomen contracting. “please say i can–” his nails dig into your scalp as he moans, drawn out and loud. hot fluid fills up your mouth and throat. you swallow and don’t cease moving until eren is pawing at your face and mumbling about how it’s too much. afterwards, unable to hold back your teasing nature, you give a few kitten licks to his reddened tip, enjoying how it makes him whine and jolt.

“i take it you liked your reward then?” you say, pushing away the stringy hair around his cheeks and forehead.

“yeah,” eren pants, and as he’s lying there, all blissed out and in the process of winding down from his high, you’re gazing down at him in a way he’s only been able to dream of until now and he realises that sure, blowjobs aren’t anything special or revolutionary, but everything leading up to it is what made it so amazing, you are what made it so amazing. you’re everything he didn’t know he wanted, the key that unlocked his hidden desires, and even if you were to leave him hard and aching for your touch again, even if you teased him to no end and laughed at him and called him names, he’d still come back if you gave him the chance because he loves it. he loves you.

you lean in and kiss eren; delicately, kindly, with care and a gentle want, a peaceful want reserved for lovers, because somewhere along the way you started to develop feelings for him. eren had only hoped for such a thing, thought that it was wishful thinking and delusion that gave him the impression you might feel the same way. maybe you didn’t at the beginning; maybe it started out as just lust, but right now you love him and he loves you. the lust is still there, but it’s soft now, and so much more than it was.

notes. couldn’t help making it soft at the end! i’ve reread this so many times i genuinely have no idea if it’s good but i hope you enjoyed it<3

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ponett · 8 months

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Whenever I complain about graphic or dark content in media I watch, I keep hearing people retort with this apparently very popular opinion that people who enjoy comfy, wholesome things are actually more likely to be raging assholes than people who love things like death metal and gore. As someone who seems to enjoy comfy, wholesome things yourself and likely met many others who enjoy similar such things, do you agree with this opinion? If so, why do you think this happens?

So I've been sitting on this ask for like a week, not knowing whether or not I wanted to touch it because it kind of feels like being handed a live grenade

For one, I don't like being pigeonholed as someone who just likes "comfy" or "wholesome" things. Yeah, I enjoy My Little Pony and Animal Crossing. I made a game with cute furry characters and lots of bright colors. I also enjoy things like Berserk and Chainsaw Man and Doom and violent crime dramas and punk rock with vulgar lyrics and porn. Variety is the spice of life

Anyway: I generally don't think it's a good idea to make sweeping statements about peoples' moral or intellectual character based on what genres of story they enjoy, regardless of what direction you're coming at it from. But this is a very leading question that kind of skirts around the root problems

There's frequent (perhaps a bit exaggerated) pushback these days against people who prefer their fiction to be a warm blanket, a form of escapism meant to distract you from the real world. In particular, the dreaded "person who only watches kids' cartoons" is a form of this that gets brought up a lot. I don't think the root problem here is what media people enjoy or don't personally enjoy - taste is subjective, and I don't think it's a moral obligation for everyone to have diverse tastes in TV shows - but I do think some folks should try to get out of their comfort zone a bit more. Sometimes stuff that seems like it won't be for you on a surface level will really end up speaking to you, but you won't know until you give it a shot. Trust me, I've been there many times

It becomes a problem when people demand that media ONLY cater to that "warm blanket" attitude. And I think that's part of the reason why that stereotype you mentioned about fans of ""wholesome""" media being assholes exists. People who view dark or violent content as an inherent flaw because it's not what they like. People who yell at creators when they make bad things happen in their stories, because how dare you do this to my comfort characters? People who say movies should never have sex scenes. People who want "problematic" moral complexity stripped out in favor of black and white moral instruction. People who seem to hate any sort of interpersonal conflict in fiction at all

These attitudes can be the result of many different cultural factors, factors that can't all be traced back to Tumblr or what shows you like, but sometimes it's definitely because of that lack of broader perspective on media. You can tell when someone's opinions on The Right And Wrong Ways To Write Fiction were shaped almost entirely by, like, Steven Universe discourse. (Yes, this is a jab at Lily Orchard.) And when these people are very loud about their opinions, well, it becomes a trend people notice

Like. I don't know you. You sent this anonymously. But when you say you "complain about graphic or dark content in media you watch"... that could mean a few wildly different things! Maybe you're just venting about something that unexpectedly triggered you, and that's totally fine. But the wording could also imply that, like, you take issue with these things being present at all, and that you expect a person who likes "death metal and gore" to be more of a "raging asshole" than someone who likes the "wholesome" things you like. So... well, maybe you're more dismissive or judgmental of things outside your comfort zone than you realize?

Unfortunately, in case it's not already obvious, on the internet this shit quickly becomes a proxy battle over dozens of intersecting cultural issues at once where everyone is kinda just talking past each other. So it gets messy

For example, I have no reason to believe that the people who run the "Wholesome Games" showcases have anything against games that are dark or violent or contain adult themes. (They've outright said they don't. Many times!) But when you see people going "why is Spiritfarer allowed in the showcase? That's a game about DEATH and that's NOT WHOLESOME, why would you make me think about death?" or "Ugh, why does Disco Elysium have to be about a cop? Why can't we apply these systems to a game about a young witch who's trying to find a lost cat in an idyllic village instead?" it... Well, it makes me sympathetic towards the indies who don't feel comfortable with the "Wholesome Games" label and consider it limiting. But it also doesn't make me think that devs catering to a demand for more chill, nonviolent video games are categorically facilitating fascist censorship from the Christian right

It's complicated! The written word is imprecise and the internet is a nightmare

I've kind of gone off on multiple tangents here. Basically: I do think that people can kinda turn fans of "comfy" media or "adults who only watch Bluey" into an overblown boogeyman these days. I think people online generally have a habit of swinging too hard in one direction or another in their stances on certain things, overcompensating based on what group of people online are currently annoying them the most and turning said group into like The Main Problem With Society Today. But I also think that boogeyman only exists because of very real examples of people demanding that everything cater to their narrow comfort zone. Go like what you like, but also, y'know. Don't be that person

#anon #ask

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drdemonprince · 1 month

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What if your unmasked self is unacceptable even to other autistics? I feel like if I don't carefully curate myself I'm too weird and annoying to sustain friendships even with other weirdos. This thing where unmasking makes people like you more because it's more ~authentic~ just hasn't been true for me and it makes me really sad.

Well, what does "weird" and "annoying" mean in this case? In unmaskers I frequently see a lot of understandable social trauma playing out in, let's just say, not the most socially effective of ways at times. No longer mindreading and people pleasing and fawning is all to the good; becoming completely unfiltered while still harboring a ton of deep-seated fear of abandonment and then spilling it out all over people will understandably drive them away. No longer faking emotions and tone of voice preserves energy and helps us feel more genuine, but never putting any energy into trying to understand a friend's interests or emotions will kill a friendship.

There is a messy counterbalancing that has to occur for many unmaskers; at first we focus on never doing anything false and allowing our unbridled selves to roam free -- and then we often recognize that we will need certain self-advocacy, listening, communication, and even diplomacy skills to actually relate to other people, even while remaining true to who we are.

It's normal for the unmasking process to initially seem like it's making you harder to love, more annoying, more bizzaree -- that's a necessary corrective to having previously aimed to make yourself unremarkable or widely liked.

But if you find yourself repeatedly socially alienating even out and proud neurodivergent people, it may be worth asking whether you are taking actions that are pushing them away. Things like interrupting people when they are trying to open up to you, invalidating their feelings, seeking reassurances that no other person can provide, not interacting, self-victimizing, just generally hurtful interpersonal stuff that us traumatized folks sometimes do even in community with one another. If this is the case, you will have to work on accepting the feedback when people are kind enough to tell you that you're bothering them or disrespecting them -- it is not the end of the world, it is a habit you can notice and correct.

Or you might just still be withdrawing and inhibiting very hard, and doing self-protective things that convey to others that they should give you a wide berth. Lots of unmaskers give off really strong "dont talk to me dont come up to me i feel socially unsafe right now" vibes that are completely honest and authentic to where they are at the moment, even if they wish they could seem more welcoming. Please give yourself some grace to feel all that if that's what it is.

No one is too weird or too annoying to make friends. But you might need to find the people who are weird enough and mad enough and disabled enough for you. Alternatively, you might have some interpersonal baggage that affects how you treat others you still need to work on. Or your internalized disability stigma might just be telling you that youre being too much when youre barely taking up social space at all.

You know your pattern of experiences and the feedback others have given you, so hopefully you can sort out what is currently missing in your social life based on that and some reflection and more testing. Good luck and let me know what you figure out.

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omartinyosef · 26 days

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ST5 POTENTIAL SPOILERS!!!

GUYS I FOUND THIS ON REDDIT AND ACTUALLY IT'S QUITE INTERESTING

ST5 Leaks/Fleaks

Gen Plot

Season picks up briefly where we left off in 1986 before jumping into either late 1987 or early 1988. The season is contained entirely in apocalyptic Hawkins. Things with the government are shaky. Owens doesn't appear in the beginning of the season and it's unclear if he's returning, but Ellen Stinson is the new Owens. Hawkins is like a combination of the UD and Kamchatka.

Labyrinths/Mazes being important to both the supernatural plot and the interpersonal relationships. They're inherently linked.

Two songs to be featured are 'Listen to Your Heart' and 'Alone,' both of which were apparently foreshadowed in a previous conversation between Hopper and Joyce, similar to how Hopper's "I'm the puppet, you're the master" to Joyce in S3 basically foreshadowed Eddie's 'Master of Puppets' in S4.

S1 and 2 scenes being referenced are "Nancy and Mike's conversation in the bathtub" and "Hopper + Lando Calrissian"

Lots of importance in COLOR CODING and blocking from the final shot of S4, and a good chunk is told in the costuming—like passing the torch from one character to another as their arcs overlap. For example, Hopper and Will share the "am I the curse and therefore putting my loved ones at risk by being near them?" sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, whereas Eleven stands out because she's the first one coming into her own this season. The white for her represents shedding of false skins.

Character duos this season will be primarily dressed in colors of blue/green and yellow/red.

There's lots of symbolism and foreshadowing for every character in S5 from the moment Will touches his neck in the last sequence of S4.

S4 focused on themes of lies and miscommunication, and everyone is going to have to work through these lies before they can defeat Vecna.

Murray and Argyle are both back. Dimitri and Yuri don't seem to be in the beginning of the season.

One thing left unresolved with the Russian plot. Something important will happen involving the machine and the green liquid from the Starcourt bunker. Reference of Dustin vowing to die with Steve when they initially discovered it.

Hopper, Joyce, Mike, Will, and El had to be away from Hawkins, otherwise Vecna wouldn't have won.

An important death that they're nervous about given the reception to Eddie (not Joyce or Jonathan—see details below).

Eleven

We'll see her unlike we've seen her before. A badass who doesn't take shit from anyone. Not a Monster, not a Hero, Jane. Think: adult El could be headed for a Charles Xavier type role.

Erica, Lucas, and El will share scenes together.

El has significant blocking and development with many characters this season.

Max, Eleven & Max

The "kaleidoscope of colors" from a script the writers posted makes a feature in both the scene where young El remembers her mother's love in order to defeat Henry in the lab, as well as the scene where El revives Max. This is significant because it's the first time we see El using her powers on someone in a non-violent way.

El was able to revive Max because of she, herself, being revived in the bunker by Brenner and Co. It's a show, don't tell moment from the writers.

Max getting Vecna'd was foreshadowed in the beginning of 2x01.

Will, Henry/Vecna, The UD

Filming was supposed to commence mid-June, but Noah and Jamie were set to begin in May due to more complicated costuming. Will is going to require heavy prosthetics at some point.

Will's character design is blocked in three stages. The more the UD bleeds into Hawkins, the more connected to it he feels. The gates being open will physically influence him, especially when he's not as mentally strong.

He's kind of like "the card up Vecna's sleeve."

It appears they want to confuse the audience about Will.

Will wrestling with his own morality

Henry/Will mirrors. Will will sympathize with Henry because, unlike El, he knows how and what Henry thinks, and he can feel him.

Vecna and Will are very similar, but the difference is Will is made stronger by love not hate. They will play into that duality.

Vecna was nerfed in S4 compared to how we see him in S5. He'll be much stronger.

At the beginning, he'll be taking a hiatus while he plans how to divide and conquer now that everyone's back together in Hawkins.

Soteria will be the key to saving Will. If they want Will to be untraceable to Henry, they'll have to insert it into his neck and it'll be painful. Vecna not having access to Will fucks up his ability to leave the UD.

Byler/Mileven Triangle

Apparently, it's complicated and up in the air as of now.

Mike dealing with guilt this season. He feels guilty/responsibility for El. He feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.

Will and Mike to spend a good chunk of the season together based on character designs and blocking.

Will telling El that Mike won't like being lied to comes back with the painting. During a pre-time jump scene in 5x01, while everyone's together plotting how to defeat Vecna and brainstorming how to save Max, Mike brings up the painting El commissioned for a D&D analogy. Will has to pull Mike aside and confess he lied about El commissioning the painting. Mike gets angry, because he doesn't know about Will's feelings and feels embarrassed that Will thought he was that pathetic he needed to be given a pep talk. Their own version of a "fight you can't come back from." Immediately after their fight, we get the time skip.

Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps. After the time jump, he and El won't be talking as much because he's keeping the details about Will's painting from her. She's gonna ask what's wrong between him and Will, and he lies/is very vague.

Joyce, Hopper, Jopper

Joyce feels immense guilt/responsible over Bob's death since she's the one that asked him to help in S2, which is why she pushed Hopper away at first.

Hopper has a secret from S1 that was never addressed, and it comes back to haunt him.

Joyce sustains an injury in S5 that is reminiscent of the way someone was injured in S3, but it isn't critical and she'll be okay.

Jopper are the most established couple after the time jump. Lots of bickering still, but Hopper trusts Joyce more than he ever has.

Jonathan, Nancy, Jancy

So far, does not seem like a breakup is happening.

Jonathan's still lying about the college letter and distant because of it, and Nancy thinks he's not as into the relationship and that there might be someone else. She confronts him, which leads to a talk. She's touched by the lengths he would go to try and protect her and any of their future children even from himself.

A moment where we're led to believe Jonathan dies but doesn't, like Hopper in S3.

Hopper-Byers Family

These five characters slowly unraveling their arcs together and have always been closely linked. Their perfect endings are together.

We see the family combining, especially in relation to El.

Joyce gets to witness Hopper being paternal and tender towards the boys.

Scenes with Joyce, Jonathan, and Will

Hopper being back lifts a weight off Jonathan's shoulders.

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

So, now time to shine.

''(...) sentiment for S5, therefore their wardrobe in the final shot of S4 is similar. Joyce/Jonathan and Nancy/Mike's costuming also similar for the same reason, (...)''

Okay. How did we see Nancy in S4? Confused. Confused with the love triangle between Jonathan, her and Steve. Jonathan is her actual boyfriend. And Steve is her posible love interest again.

So, putting this in byler language: Nancy = Mike Jonathan = Eleven Will = Steve

If Mike's and Nancy's character's clothing is important at this point of the time line and that means they feel similar feelings, this could mean that byler has a chance. BUT then we read this: ''(...) He (Mike) feels stuck in a loop that keeps him from a truth he's scared to face.'' And

''Mike's character motivations are unclear and seem to be kept under wraps.''

THIS LITERALLY MEANS BYLER. FOR REAL. Like byler could be endgame. Also, remember Eleven's injury in S3? Do you remember the leak of a shoe covered in blood?

It's Joyce. ALSO YOU CAN READ THAT WE'LL HAVE SCENES BEFORE THE TIME JUMP. And here it comes. Look at this freaking hair:

Does this look more like this

or this?

The season 4 bowl cut right? So maybe this is right in some part? I dont know. But that could make sense why Will is wearing Mike's pants, because his clothes were in California by that moment. But i really do think that the pic that was leaked a few days ago is before the time jump.

Im so late with this info haha :) but i kinda think some things here make sense. Even if this is too well explained to be a leak.

#stranger things s5 #st5 spoilers #stranger things 5 #st5 #stranger things #st5 speculation #st5 leaks #st5 production #will byers #stranger things season 5 #will byers is gay #byler tumblr #william byers #byler is endgame #byler endgame #byler nation #byler #mike wheeler is gay

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copperbadge · 1 month

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RE watching thoughts: I’m not 100% sure, but it might be that the whole “I am not my thoughts” is about engaging and identifying with your metacognition MORE than your initial thoughts. Because I get where you’re coming from - what is a consciousness but a collection of thoughts and feelings? But you can also have thoughts about your own thoughts that are more useful for dealing with whatever situation you’re in, I guess. (Random aside - every time I start thinking about thinking about thinking my brain inevitably starts thinking about Tiffany Aching and The Wee Free Men.)

I really should have replied to this ask sooner because it's going to seem like a non-sequitur now (this was sent much earlier in March) but I'm kind of glad I didn't, because I've been chatting with people about this and I think I understand more why there's an emphasis in some therapies on the idea that we are not our thoughts.

(I uh, haven't read the Tiffany books so I'm not much help there.)

I am coming to understand that many, perhaps most, people judge themselves, comprehensively and harshly, based on their thoughts. Perhaps it's just a lot of people who struggle with mental health, but given the commonality of the sentiment I don't know if I'd confine it that tightly; generally it appears that people cannot conceive of themselves as anything other than a binary of good or bad. So many people I've talked to about this portion of DBT, the watching-questioning-identifying thoughts portion, say that it helps to snap them out of a spiral of "I'm a horrible person, I deserve to suffer/die, I can never be redeemed" after they've failed at something, or had a negative thought, or reacted poorly to an unexpected event.

That is not something I've ever experienced. I mean, jokingly maybe, but not in a real, internal sense.

And that's not to brag -- I'm not saying I think I'm a good person, either, because I don't think I'm a good person. I don't conceive of myself in terms of good or bad. I never cuddle my cats and think "I'm such a good cat dad" or forget to feed them and think "I should die now." I have a perpetual morally neutral attitude towards my own existence; my thoughts and actions might trend me one direction or another but I'm aware of the temporary nature of that. If I fuck up I'll worry about who I might have hurt or whether I'll be fired or what's going to happen as a consequence, if I am polite to someone who didn't deserve it I know I was acting kindly in the moment, but I don't make an inherent moral judgement of myself based on that. And it seems like the vast majority of people do. Which you would think would make me feel pretty good about myself, but honestly...I don't know.

A lot of people I know who have ADHD or are Autistic have talked about seeing themselves as other, as alien -- like that one webcomic artist who draws themself with little antennae to indicate they're strange and different. I've always understood why one might do that, but I never felt that way myself, before or after the diagnosis. After all, let's remember, I was The Normal* Child of my siblings, and if I was The Normal One before the diagnosis, why wouldn't I remain Mostly Normal after?

* As ever, I'm using "normal" as a cultural term, to indicate what we think of as mainstream, not because normal is a thing that really exists.

My life has been relatively solitary -- I have friends and family and I love them but I'm rarely part of a large group, I don't spend a lot of time out in public interacting with people, I'm not a big socializer. Before the Adderall, I really couldn't be, I took too much psychic damage from interpersonal interaction, so I chose those very carefully. And now my DBT class has been a rare moment when I'm encountering contradictions to a lot of my assumptions about the way human beings in our society interact, react, and behave. I just...don't fit that mold very well. I think of it as having crossed wiring, not in the sense that I'm faulty but just in the sense that I'm very, very different. Not Normal. It's not exactly a bad feeling but it's certainly not a great one, internalizing the sensation of alienness.

DBT is proving to be a mixed bag but not in the way I or my therapist intended -- it seems to be either things I was already instinctively doing or things that simply do not apply to me. In one way it's disappointing because it means there isn't much help to be had (we're a little over halfway through the course and I keep thinking "Maybe next class will be useful") but on the other hand it's validating that so much of what I came up with myself as unconscious coping mechanisms is literally what I would have been told to do anyway.

Sometimes it's a combination of both, though, which really blows. I guess most people, if they reframe another person's actions, actually find emotional relief in that, and I don't. An example from the class is that if someone is rude to you, you can consider how they might be having a hard day, and be polite in return; that's great, in terms of defusing a situation, and it's something I do a fair amount of. But apparently it's also something that for most people results in feeling less awful about the interaction, and that's not the case for me. Which is why so much of DBT feels to me like lying to oneself. It's not lying for most people.

So, yeah. I'm going to finish out the course and keep trying things with the therapist but I suspect given everything, I might already be at "as good as it gets" in terms of emotional work. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, and there is still the option to try medication that could help, but I think there will come a point where I'm going to have to deal with the fallout of just how different I am, and how that has impacted my life. Might end up a good thing; something I've really been trying to resolve is unhappiness over being unpartnered and highly likely to remain that way, and at least if this provides a better understanding of why, then perhaps I can process that and put it to rest in a way I've been trying to do but not succeeding well at.

So, we'll see. But I find it both fascinating and kind of horrifying how many people can believe they are irredeemably bad, even if the belief is only temporary, simply because they had an uncharitable thought or impulse. It makes me somewhat grateful for the crossed wires, at least.

#sam has adhd #therapy #dbt

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tacroyy · 9 months

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losing my shit about the two times vimes gets slapped by a woman in the guards books (night watch and snuff; spoilers for both below). terry pratchett is completely goddamn brilliant.

both times, it's near enough to the beginning of the plot that vimes is partially convinced he doesn't know what's going on and is still information gathering (so, working a little on autopilot, although thoughts are starting to coalesce). the women he encounters show up after a watershed moment—major transformative plot points on both occasions—and both help him and help move the narrative along with the information they provide. and this is my favorite detail—he's tired both times, too, and just needs to think, because of the amount of new information he's processing.

from night watch:

"I think perhaps I lost my memory when I was attacked," he said. That sounded good, he thought. What he really needed now was somewhere quiet, to think.

"Really? Perhaps I'm the Queen of Hersheba," said Rosie [Palm]. "Just remember, kind sir. I'm not doing this because I'm interested in you, although I'd admit to a macabre fascination about how long you're going to survive. If it hadn't been a cold wet night I'd have left you in the road. I'm a working girl, and I don't need trouble. But you look like a man who can lay his hands on a few dollars, and there will be a bill."

"I'll leave the money on the dressing table," said Vimes.

The slap in the face knocked him against the wall. /end quote

and from snuff:

She [Felicity Beedle] turned to Vimes. "It would seem, commander, that providence has brought you here in time to solve the murder of the goblin girl, who was an excellent pupil. I came up here as soon as I heard, but the goblins are used to undeserved and casual death. I"ll walk with you to the entrance, and then I've got a class to teach."

Vimes tugged at Feeny to make him keep up as they followed Miss Beedle and her charge toward the surface and blessed fresh air. He wondered what had become of the corpse. What did they do with their dead? Bury them, eat them, throw them on the midden? Or was he just not thinking right, a thought which itself had been knocking at his brain for some time. Without thinking, he said, "What else do you teach them, Miss Beedle? To be better citizens?"

The slap caught him on the chin, probably because even in her anger Miss Beedle realized that he still had his steel helmet on. /end quote

vimes makes mistakes. he makes mistakes all the time, and he knows this, and pays attention to them. vimes spends a lot of time thinking about thinking (engaging in productive, internally motivated metacognition well within his zone of proximal development, my master's in teaching insists i say). he thinks about his thinking, and he thinks about other people's thinking through the lens of his own.

in both instances, vimes is coming to realizations about the true nature of things.

in night watch, this would initially seem to be more surface than deep: he's getting to physical grips with exactly when and where (and who) in the past he is; he's learning the ground, mapping, figuring things out—but vimes is also trying to settle himself back in to what he knows, and what society is in these different times, to see if that fits. plotwise, in vimes's present, the seamstresses have a guild, rights, safety, standards, rules, regulations, and even societal respect—although certainly not close to what they deserve, it's much more than what they had before vetinari made their guild a reality. but in the past, where vimes is now, the seamstresses don't have this level of security, and are subject to violence (although it is shown to be societal and legal violence [being arrested for working during their profession's peak, etc] rather than interpersonal or sexual violence [the agony aunts exist and, it is clearly stated, dispense the same justice that they do in the future, specifically to individual clients rather than to larger institutional structures]).

so, when vimes puts down rosie by making a disparaging joke about her profession—oh, you're actually not important to me or to men or to society at all; your labor is not to be respected; i got what i needed from you and will of course pay you, but in the most insulting way possible—he's not only communicating what society thinks, but a moral issue of the novel as well. night watch, after all, is about revolution: who gets to be in power, and who gets to control who gets to be in power? it's frankly revolutionary for pratchett, a mainstream english author, to treat sex workers and sex work as positively as he does (of course, his depictions are not without flaws). he makes it clear that, after all, shouldn't we view sex work as physical labor? isn't it true that anyone who is employed is engaging in physical labor? how is a seamstress really different from a "seamstress"? (it's the power dynamics and misogyny standard to western/european/american/christian society: women and sex must be controlled by the patriarchial majority, kept small and afraid and in chains.) pratchett legitimizes the seamstresses in vimes's present. in vetinari's ankh-morpork, the seamstresses have just as much power as the merchants, the armorers, the assassins—and vimes knows this, but he did grow up in the past he's in now.

in snuff, vimes's approaching anagnorisis is more obviously manifested. brilliantly, pratchett begins vimes's encounter with the goblins by talking about vimes's childhood teacher, mistress slightly, who "taught [him] how not to be afraid" and made him blackboard monitor, "the first time anyone had entrusted him with anything;" vimes thinks he'll put a bag of peppermints on her grave if he gets out of this alive. all positive, and in fact clearly transformative, praise from our hero. but vimes is in a goblin cave, and pratchett has brought up mistress slightly because vimes is remembering his first (educational, not physical) encounter with goblins. this paragraph is worth quoting in full:

"[Mistress Slightly] had one book in her tiny sitting room, and the first time she had given it to young Sam Vimes to read he had got as far as page seven when he froze. The page showed a goblin: the jolly goblin, according to the text. Was it laughing, was it scowling, was it hungry, was it about to bite your head off? Young Sam Vimes hadn't waited to find out and had spent the rest of the morning under a chair. These days he excused himself by remembering that most of the other kids felt the same way. When it came to the innocence of childhood, adults often got it wrong. In any case, she had sat him on her always slightly damp knee after class and made him really look at the goblin. It was made of lots of dots! Tiny dots, if you looked closely. The closer you looked at the goblin the more it wasn't there. Stare it down and it lost all its power to frighten. 'I hear that they are wretched, badly made mortals,' the dame had said sadly. 'Half-finished folk, or so I hear. It's only a blessing this one had something to be jolly about.'"

a near-perfect depiction, unfortunately, of the educational experience. encounter something that scares you and makes you uncomfortable, examine it with the help of a pedagogist, examine it on your own, take it apart so that you are not afraid anymore, and instead understand what it is and how it is made: that's the experience from the first word of the quote all the way until "Stare it down and lost all its power to frighten." and then, a heel-turn: your teacher shows that they completely misunderstood the lesson they were teaching—and that you, the child, understood both parts of the lesson perfectly: you absorbed the critical thinking skills and that this existing societal prejudice is, in fact, totally correct and should not be examined using the skills you just learned.

thus, pratchett has vimes, our hero, our moral center, spout the violent, ingrained, dehumanizing, incitement-to-genocide nonsense of the society in which he has been formed. vimes does this tiredly, without thinking, without making the connection between how things are and how they ought to be, missing the direct relationship of that required moral reevaluation to the case and situation at hand. and pratchett throws that directly back in vimes's face, physically. both times, pratchett says: even if you're tired, even if there's shit going down, even if your worldview is being turned upside down, even if you're in the dead middle of processing everything you've so recently learned, you cannot make the mistake of dehumanization/depersonalization. and you, of all people, have to know that, vimes. not one drop of alcohol passes your lips, not one minute after six goes by without you reading to your son, not one arrestee is subjected to even small or casual police brutality. and not one person—seamstress or goblin—is to be insulted and discriminated against and excluded from deserving to live. to do so, to make that mistake even once, is to face the immediate physical consequences of it from someone deeply and fundamentally in the know. you need the sense smacked into you.

from night watch:

"Consider that a sign of my complete lack of a sense of humor, will you?" said Rosie, shaking some life back into her hand.

"I'm... sorry," said Vimes. "I didn't mean to... I mean... look, thak you for everything. I mean it. But this is not being a good night."

"Yes, I can see that."

"It's worse than you think. Believe me."

"We all have our troubles. Believe me," said Rosie. /end quote.

from snuff:

It was a corker, nonetheless, and out of the corner of his stinging gaze he saw Feeny take a step back. At least the boy had some sense.

"You are the gods' own fool, Commander Vimes! No, I'm not teaching them to be fake humans, I'm teaching them how to be goblins, clever goblins! Do you know that they have only five names for colors? Even trolls have around sixty, and a lot more than that if they find a paint salesman! Does this mean goblins are stupid? No, they have a vast number of names for things that even poets haven't come up with, for things like the colors shift and change, the melting of one hue into another. They have single words for the most complicated of feelings; I know about two hundred of them, I think, and I'm sure there are a lot more! What you may think are grunts and growls and snarls are in fact carrying vast amounts of information! They're like an iceberg, commander: most of them is where you can't see or understand, and I'm teaching Tears of the Mushroom and some of her friends so that they may be able to speak to people like you, who think they are dumb. And do you know what, commander? There isn't much time! They're being slaughtered! It's not called that, of course, but slaughter is how it ends, because they're just dumb nuisances, you see. Why don't you ask Mr. Upshot what happened to the rest of the goblins three years ago, Commander Vimes?"

And with that, Miss Beedle turned on her heel and disappeared down into the darkness of the cave with Tears of the Mushroom bobbing along behind her, leaving Vimes to walk the last few yards out into the glorious light. /end quote.

#sam vimes #terry pratchett #original flavor #dw tag

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bulbabutt · 11 months

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ok i wanna talk about tmnt 2007 and the way i think this is the best version of a leo and raph conflict, and also leo as a character

for context i've been talking about tmnt things kinda chronologically, so i'm gonna mention an unconditional understanding in 03 i bring that up in a previous post about that show and the family dynamics in it here if u want context for what i mean

i think this movie can really be appreciated for the place it has between adaptations, and the way character-wise everyone is more or less the same as they've always been but with a more interpersonal relationship as the focus. the main villain of this movie doesn't really matter, the conflict, the fights, that's not where the strength is (although, it is reflected in the conflict and ill get into that)

so tmnt 07 is one movie that kind of combines the 90s movies, 03, and mirage all in one place, and tonally is is similar to the show that will come after it, 12. if the 90s movies give us conflict between leo and raph, and 03 gives us the unconditional understanding between the two, 07 takes these two aspects and creates a story out of it. (debate in your own mind if this movie is a literal sequel to the 90s ones or not, its not that important)

the set up of this movie is we are in a post killing the shredder world. leo has been told by splinter to go get training elsewhere, there isn't much context for what happened to cause this, but i would bet its a similar cause to 03, where he had ptsd and lashed out at his father to which splinter sends him to his grandfather to get better advice than he thinks he can give him. the difference here is there is no grandfather hes sent to, he's sent on a journey of self discovery around the world to learn about it and himself.

the thing about leo as a character, and this goes for all leos, he's has a very black and white way of thinking. leo thinks he's been sent away because he's failing his family, that he's not a good enough leader. so he stays away for longer because he doesn't feel good enough. he finds a place where he can help and he does that. leo always needs a bad guy to fight, or else he's fighting his own demons. so he stays there for a long time. finding a place he can help quietly, never letting anyone see him, and becoming a legend to the locals because no one knows what's really going down.

april manages to track him down and tell him about whats going on with his brothers, how they're holding up without him and without being a team, and i think thats a good reminder for him that they miss him. he doesn't tell april but he finds a way home only after hearing about this. when he arrives and speaks to splinter, he says "i was so caught up in my own world i forgot about everyone else, i'm sorry i failed" he still doesn't feel like he's done anything of worth.

i'm gonna jump in here and say, you know how we all love rise raph? cuz hes the big brother and some traits that come from that are like being overprotective and taking on everyone else's problems and trying to handle emotions alone? well that's a trait thats usually leo's. but the difference with leo is sometimes that concept doesn't make you as likeable. sometimes it means you come off like a nagging mother hen who thinks they know best but in an arrogant way. sometimes it makes you mirror being a parent when no one asked you to be. leo's less of a passionate character than raph, hes more analytical and full of himself. he takes splinters lessons more seriously, and hes always trying to do whats best for everyone so they don't have to worry. this is something evident with 03 and 12, but its so specifically noticeable here because these traits make up the main conflict. i just want to bring that up so we start seeing leo as no different than some of our other favourite iterations.

splinter responds to his apology by saying "you owe me no apology, but perhaps you should talk to raphael, your absence has been particularly difficult for him, though he'll never admit it" but when leo greets him raph is brushing him off.

on raph's end, this is him being angry that leo left, and angry that hes back and everyone wants to pretend that he wasn't gone at all. as if the time he was gone didn't happen. hes lashing out because he too cant handle talking about these emotions. and hes lashing out by becoming a vigilante in his own right.

i see a lot of people misunderstand what raph is doing here, that "this is what the turtles always do" or "this is the same as what leo was doing how could he be mad" when that is not true. that's what casey does. its true that both leo and raph have been fighting bad guys on their own (as a way of dealing with their issues) but raphael has made himself a costume to disguise himself which means hes prepared to be seen. hes riding a motorcycle around, which is loud. this isn't stealthy, this is aggressive. his vigilante name is in the news. the turtles are ninjas, they silently help where they can and fade into the night and, very specifically, they work as a team. these turtles live in a dangerous world, what if something happened to him while no one else was around? they would never know because he never told anyone.

so raph is lashing out, and leo doesn't have a good way of dealing with it. he tries to slide back into being leader, doing what splinter says but he forgets how his brothers are, and with raph egging them on they get into fights they shouldn't. which leo specifically gets in trouble for, as the oldest brother, and as their leader. leo tries to be this better leader hes supposed to have learned to be, but it doesn't work and raph ends up back out there in his vigilante get up. leo tracks down said vigilante, and in his peak "leo knows best" moment, lectures him, not knowing its his brother. there's a scuffle, and the mask comes off. let me point out that casey knew this vigilante was raph but his own brother didn't, because leo has been gone that long.

so lets get into what this fight is really about. on the surface, its "wow you've been going out at night alone putting yourself in dangerous situations with no backup" and "so what you're just mad that i can do it without you" which leo would be right about. and this is the analytical leo, he really thinks that's all that's going on here. what hes missing is that raphael has missed him as a brother, and hes hurt that leonardo left and just came back no big deal. that he wants everything to be normal. raphael is always a character with big emotions and the only outlet he knows to express them is violence.

leo, who as we've established, went away to learn to be better for his family is angry that raph doesn't see that. he's mad raph doesn't appreciate the effort he went to, and he thinks he's just angry because he's not in charge. each brother sees the other as being arrogant.

this leads them to the big fight. no one can disagree that this is the best part of the movie (seriously watch the movie for this scene if you haven't seen it before) , but the real best part of it is that raphael wins. raph proves hes just as capable of a fighter as his brother, if not more-so. he uses those sais as they're supposed to be used, catching leo's swords and in a fit of rage he fucking breaks them, leaving leo defenceless and completely vulnerable to attack. you'd think he'd be smug that leo lost but he pauses, going through a lot of emotions in a moment, questioning what he's doing, why hes doing it. and leo finally looks his brother in the eye and sees raph going through something he didn't before, realizing raph hasn't been angry that he's back, but that he's angry that he ever left. they don't have a conversation, because raph cant handle all these emotions and he runs away, crying as he does. leo just watches him, taking it all in and realizing the error of his ways.

hearing leo scream turns raph around, but he's too late to help him, and this is where raph regrets his own actions because right then, leo is also proven right in his argument. because he gets kidnapped. if leo hadn't chased raph down, there is a very good chance that would have been raph being kidnapped. with no backup, with no one knowing what happened to him. that's why its important that the turtles are a team.

raph goes home full of guilt, and there's a good moment of showing how he cannot open up emotionally here, because he grunts, punches the wall, knocks over some weights and forces splinter to ask him what happened, because that's how raphael is. he laments to his father that he finally understands why leo is the better son, proving that to raph none of this was about their team, but about their family. conflating the two ideas in his head. splinter gives him a talk that mirrors what he said to leo when he returned earlier in the movie, encouraging him that he is a good son and brother. this shows that these brothers have very similar insecurities about their value to their family.

the rest of the movie plays out as you expect, they go save leo, they stop the bad guy, they reconcile and behave as the team they're supposed to be. but i just want to point out that the villains plot is mirrored in leo and raph's conflict. the 'villain' here is a brother who has been cursed to be immortal without his own siblings. for 3000 years he lived to regret his actions and decided to undo his curse, but he used the cursed stone versions of his siblings to do so. no communication, just thinking he knew better (which maybe he did) and lying about it. that caused them to lie to him right back, and try to overthrow him and destroy the world. this is just one family whose inner turmoil could have destroyed the world. you might say, oh that's not a very interesting turtles villain, but its not supposed to be. its not the focus.

this movie is all about the complicated relationship between a family, and i see so many people talk about it by trying to ask who's right and who's wrong. that's not how it works. life is more complicated than that, people are more complicated than that. its boring to look at this movie and just say "leo is wrong and raph is right" because that's not even how the characters see it. this movie is about leo and raph being mirrors of each other in their arrogance, in their insecurities, and in their stubborn pig-headed refusal to let the other know how they feel. splinter says as much at the start of the movie. this whole movie shows that without each other, they need to be fighting something so they don't get swept up by their own emotions, which they are both bad at processing. they are SUCH brothers. they are so similar emotionally, yet they have such a hard time understanding each other.

personally 07 leo is my favourite leo for his complexity, his flaws his strength, his growth. its sad we never got those sequel movies to get into the other brothers heads as much as we got into leo and raphs heads.

also nolan north and james arnold taylor gave the best vocal performances in this movie and they deserve all the credit for it.

#tmnt #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 07 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #07 leo #i will defend 07 leo to death does no one understand his autistic swag like i do #all leos are like this he just got to shine cuz the movie was ABOUT his and raphs issues #this has been in the drafts for a while and in the mind a LOT longer than that #sorry its long idek if thats all i have to say about him but CLEARLY its long enough #thoughts

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johnwickb1tsch · 3 months

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bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 2 <<Part 1

-You are sitting on a bench in the lakeside park, reading a book and enjoying the bright winter sunshine when a cold nose presses into your hand. You look up to find a blue pitbull nuzzling you for pets. “Oh hi there, baby,” you coo, scratching his broad head without a thought. You follow the leash to the owner, and are very surprised to see Mr. Wick standing there, looking endearingly embarrassed about it all. “Sorry,” he says. “He pulled me over here.” He gives the dog a look as it leans against you, getting side scritches with a blissed-out doggo look. You have a notion that Mr. Wick might be jealous, somehow, but you push it away.

“That’s ok. What a good boy. What’s his name?”

“Um…Dog.”

You smirk up at him. “Original.”

He sighs, looking at you through his hair, and it pulls at your heartstrings for some reason. You pat the bench beside you, and he accepts, though he sits as far away as he can. “He likes you,” he says, looking ruefully down at the dog. “Do you have pets?”

“No,” you admit. “I travel too much.”

“Yeah?”

You can tell he’s surprised to hear this. Most people are. But you live frugally on your barista’s salary so you can go abroad for a month or so. You’re a budget traveler for sure, but you’ve been all over the world.

“Yes. I’m going to Italy this summer.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You’ve been?”

“Several times. For work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m retired.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you leave it for now. You don’t really talk anymore, just look at the lake, and pet his dog who leans all his solid weight against your leg. You are content in the companionable silence.

You think he is too.

- It’s interesting sometimes, watching the interpersonal pageants of the regulars. When thrice divorced Victoria Fraser-Sims lays eyes on Mr. Wick for the first time in what you have come to consider his corner, she starts coming in for a lot more no-fat double-shot sugar-free vanilla lattés. All the locals are quite…aware…of Vicky’s predatory habits. A part of you wonders if you should warn Mr. Wick, but you reckon a single man who looks like him is quite used to fending off hungry cougars.

She starts by sitting near his table in her tight workout clothes, ostensibly bending over to pick up repeatedly dropped objects, affording various views of her generous cleavage and spin-class toned rear end. You know you have no right to feel so pleased that Mr. Wick seems to ignore her.

But then she ups her game, so bold as to sit down at his table with him to chat. He talks to her politely. One day, she actually succeeds in making him laugh. You hear it, loosed like an arrow that strikes you from across the room.

You have zero right to be jealous, of course, but you can’t help it. You and Mr. Wick have a thing.

Maybe just in your own head, but still.

But maybe they would be a good couple, you reason sadly, making yourself think realistically. Closer to the same age. And he does seem so lonely.

A few days later they come in the door together, seeming content, and your heart plummets to your feet. Holy shit, she actually pulled it off. They’re dating, you’re perfectly convinced.

In that moment you decide to back off. Mr. Wick is at least twenty years your elder. What the fuck would he want with an awkward little gremlin like you? It’s amazing sometimes, how well you can delude yourself. A curse of having a vivid imagination, perhaps. He’s just polite, and you are kind to him, because he seems a little broken. You resolve to behave. No more quips. No more teasing. From this day forward it shall be only, Here’s your coffee, yes sir, have a good day.

You’ve never been terribly good at keeping resolutions, but you’re going to try.

-Your determination to leave Mr. Wick alone is timed conveniently with a new hire who is around your age. He is and cute, and you get on immediately. Your flirting is fairly harmless, though you know the shop is filled with loud laughter from the two of you when your shifts coincide. Sometimes you feel Mr. Wick looking over at you after you’ve had a good chortle, and you sense he is annoyed.

Once, you catch him glaring at Brian’s back like he might like to carve the boy’s liver.

You try to quiet down, but it never really lasts. It’s been a while, since you’ve met someone who you click with so well. A comrade makes working in the service industry slightly more endurable, after all.

-One day, you burn yourself on the steamer wand while Mr. Wick is waiting for his order. Maybe it’s the volume of the unladylike expletive that spills from your lips, but he does not hesitate to come around the counter to check on you. It hurts like a motherfucker, and while you blink back tears you are quick to dig out ice to put on it. He even more quickly bats it into the sink, flipping the faucet on. “Cold water is better.”

Before you know it he is guiding your wrist into the stream with a gentle but exacting grip. “Hold that there,” he instructs. You can’t fathom disobeying him.

Brian stares rather dumbfoundedly at the customer behind the counter. “Um…sir? You can’t be back here.”

“Then get her the first aid kit instead of standing there looking useless,” he snaps, and the young man jumps into action, scurrying away.

John gives a low whistle once you’ve finished with the cold water, blotting you dry at the butt end of the counter. “You got yourself good.”

“It’s not the first time,” you sigh. You’re not particularly clumsy, but it happens when you’re juggling five things at once to keep the drink orders moving.

John bandages the burn for you, frowning at the salve provided in the first aid kit that expired years ago, but deciding it will do in a pinch. His long-fingered hands are precise, but gentle, and as he touches you, you feel your brain turn to mush. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this.

Maybe he’s not mad at you after all.

Later that day you appear from the back, to find a little paper pharmacy bag on the counter with your name written in concise black print. Inside there is more ointment, large Band-aids, and a little Snickers chocolate bar.

How did he know it’s your favorite?

Even though you didn’t see him come or go, you know it was Mr. Wick, and this small gesture touches you to tips of your toes.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves #yandere john wick #yandere #bittersweet john wick imagine #john wick fic #john wick imagine

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ghostandsoap · 1 year

Text

The Best of the Best

John Price x Fem! Reader

Tags: Explosion. Fire. Building burning down. Typical Soap behavior. Protective Ghost. Price is a simp.

A/N: A huge thank you to @venomous-ragno who contributed to assisting me in working out the details of this fic! I appreciate you!

Word Count: 4.0k

“As long as it’s from you, then I’d definitely say so.”

The best of the best.

That’s how Captain Price described you since the moment that he could really see what you were made of. He found you beyond impressive, one of the best soldiers to ever cross his path. Everyone had their strengths and weaknesses – their areas that they excelled in and their areas that they could always improve.

When it came to you, Price had never seen you not completely dominate a skill. He knew you were quick on your feet and even quicker in your head. No one could hack, track, shoot, and kill quite like you.

You were, in Price’s opinion, the absolute best of the best.

Everybody knew your reputation. Not many people teased you or challenged your abilities. The ones who had were embarrassingly proven wrong, and it was never a mistake that was made twice. It was a well known fact how much Price admired you. And maybe, just maybe, he favorited you just a bit. Where there was Price, you were there too.

That was common knowledge.

But his assessment of you didn’t come just from your tactical skill. He found you to be unmatched in a lot of ways that weren’t related to your job at all. You knew you were one of his better soldiers, yet you never let it get to your head. You were kind to others and always willing to lend a helping hand. You looked out for your friends and colleagues, and underneath a hard exterior – you were all heart.

He trusted you to be obedient. He never doubted that you wouldn’t give your all each and every time you had a job to do. You were a natural leader, but also a trustworthy follower. Not many people could be both.

Price was drawn to you, he would admit. He liked just about everything about you, except maybe your smart mouth – that was the only thing that ever got you into trouble. He enjoyed having conversations with you – ones that were work related or not. He had shared a drink with you a time or two, and he found you to be pleasant company. He had this fuzzy feeling in his chest whenever the two of you would take watch together, a feeling that wasn’t the most familiar to him. The time he spent with you outside of a mission or job was the time he valued the most.

Before he knew it, he realized that he liked you just a little more than he probably should’ve.

He had offered to buy you dinner here and there – all of his attempts being shot down by your humble modesty and fear of breaking one of his most important rules.

Avoid romance within Force 141.

It seemed that his rantings about “avoiding romantic interpersonal relationships within the force” had gotten to you. He shouldn’t have been surprised. You looked up to him, and you were his most loyal soldier. Of course you weren’t going to break one of his rules…even if he was the one who was asking you to break it.

It took him some time to realize that he was asking a lot of you. He understood that it probably wasn’t the most comfortable situation that he had put you in.

Price wasn’t too discouraged though. He knew there was something between the two of you. A hot ember that was just begging for some fuel to really roar into a ball of flames. Over time, there had been small moments that had been causing that spark to grow at a painfully slow pace.

He was buttering you up in the most sincere way for the right moment. The lingering stares, the way his hand “accidentally” brushed yours when he passed you by, the compliments he made that brought a blushing heat to your face. These were all mini victories that gradually softened you up to him.

Then, of course, there was that…one incident.

Price had felt terrible after it happened. The look on your face had immediately let him know that he had totally pushed you too far, too quickly. It had been a simple kiss. Not one that was heated or lustful. It was passionate, sure – but it was the most tender, romantic kiss that John Price had ever had the pleasure of receiving.

In his defense, he hadn’t forced you to kiss him. It had been a mutual thing, so there couldn’t be any claims of “he kissed first” or “she kissed first.” It was genuinely one of those “the moment was right” kind of situations. It had been after a long mission, one that had lasted a few days – and those few days had been stressful torture. It was touch-and-go the whole time, and the team had been very nervous that it wouldn’t get done.

You and Price had been attached at the hip for the duration of that particular mission, working together to get the job completed. The tension had been building up and stewing for days. There was so much emotion and so much riding on this job that it was unavoidable. When the mission did turn out in the team’s favor, and the two of you had your first moment alone – both of you gave into your desires.

The kiss had lasted only a few seconds, much shorter than Price would’ve liked. But when he pulled away and saw the expression on your face, he knew that it had been way too soon.

He didn’t see you for about a week after that. The days that passed consisted of you dodging him and avoiding him. It wasn’t until the next morning briefing that he took his chance to corner you, and the two of you worked it out enough to where you could go back to the way you were before.

Price had been relieved. He didn’t want to lose you as a friend or as a colleague. He needed you around – for multiple reasons.

He made a solemn swear to himself that he wouldn’t push it anymore. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off to the point where you really didn’t want anything to do with him. After all, Price was a patient man.

And he had no problem waiting for what he wanted.

***

The mission had been doomed from the start.

There were too many outside factors that were a part of it that were playing against you. This mission was going to be more work and effort than it was worth (most of them were), despite its seemingly easy end goal.

Clear the building. Find and make your way into the server room. Obtain and transfer the files to your drive to deliver back to the general. It seemed straightforward, and it seemed like something that could be done with no issues.

However, there were two very crucial catches to this.

This job was a little bit different from past missions. Hacking and data transfers were one of your specialties. Speed and accuracy were your strong suits, and it made the most sense to put you at the head of this task. In some ways, the success of this mission fell on you.

The other kicker was that this specific group of terrorists was much more prepared than you originally gave them credit for. It shouldn’t have been a shock that the whole building was bugged. They knew that the force had been on their tails for a while, so it really only made sense that they made the proper measures in place to wipe their trace clean when the time was right.

The terrorist group knew that you were there the moment the Force’s boots hit the back doorway. The goal of the mission was suddenly stricken by the enemy of time. A countdown to the demise of the server room had begun the moment that you thought you were in the homestretch.

The building had been eerily silent. There wasn’t another person (outside of 141) in sight. That was your main indicator that something wasn’t right. If this place was guarding the top secret information, then it should’ve been littered with folks to protect it. As far as you could see, this place was abandoned and left for dead.

Soap had been the first to make a comment on how this all seemed too convenient. His suspicions weren’t unreasonable, considering the pit of nausea that had opened in your stomach the moment that you realized the team was truly alone.

Ghost was rigid, scanning every single door, out of place floor tile, and desolate corner. He had gone stoically silent, prepared for the bottom to fall out at any moment. Price and Gaz didn’t stray far. They were far too uneasy to let the group get separated.

You weren’t rushed as you navigated the halls of the building, carefully working your way to the upper floors where the server room was located. The stairwells were echo chambers of every single sound, another reminder that no one was around. Five pairs of heavy footsteps trudged up each flight of stairs, your nerves growing more and more worn with each step.

You reached the correct floor, entering the hallway from the stairwell with goosebumps erupting all over your skin. Something in your gut didn’t feel right. Just as you were about to suggest to Price that 141 take a different approach, there was a loud, unmistakable noise.

The sound of the explosion and the roar of fire had caused an annoying ringing noise in everyone’s ears, and had sent everybody into overdrive. The entire building shook and rattled from the initial impact, a rush of black smoke billowing from the doorway of the room. The room had self-destructed, which was a no doubt sign that the enemy group had known you’d be coming.

Flames engulfed the room immediately and wasted no time spreading down the hall with the final goal of destroying every square inch of the place. The heat that spread from the room was indescribable. A temperature so intense that no one in their right mind would even attempt to go through it.

The mission was simultaneously aborted, considering that there wasn’t even a mission to complete now. The only objective now was for Task Force 141 to get out alive without being trapped, burned, or crushed to death. It was a mad scramble to escape the fiery death trap, the heavy gear that all of you were carrying felt weightless from the adrenaline.

The stairs that you had taken your time to climb were cleared in seconds, all of you using every ounce of energy and speed to get to safety. If one room was tricked, then there was no telling what the other parts of the building had been bugged with.

It was all a blur in your mind. In reality, it had only taken about 60 seconds for the five of you to get out of the structure, but it had felt like an hour long endeavor. There was a point when 141 was safe enough to come to halt, located far off in the distance from the building that had never blown you all to smithereens. There wasn’t much that you could do other than report back to the General to explain the situation and watch the building go up in flames.

The dread in your chest had morphed into something else. The sensation of knowing that not only had the data been destroyed, but the target enemies had likely been intelligent enough to make a backup to take it with them. The information was out there again, lost in the world to the point where it could literally be anywhere.

This mission was back to square one. And you couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz were kneeling in a halfway huddle, heaving with each breath in an attempt to regain control of their breathing. Price kept his eyes locked on you, watching the way that you were standing still – eyes fixed on the deteriorating building just in your view.

The sun was setting on the horizon, the sky’s hues of orange and purple nearly matching the embers and flames that were currently (and had already) destroyed the golden ticket of your mission. Months of work and weeks of preparation had been wasted on the fact that (admittedly) you had been outsmarted.

The best of the best.

That’s what Price had always said about you – that you were the best of the best. Your first mission as the leader, the person responsible for the success of the job and the wellbeing of your colleagues, had gone south faster than you could’ve ever imagined.

For the first time in a very, VERY long time…

You had failed at something.

He knew you were in for a long night of overthinking this whole thing. A long night of questioning your skills and abilities. He knew you all too well. And he knew you would blame yourself for the rest of your life for this.

Price took a few steps closer to you, resting his hand gently on your shoulder to announce his presence.

“Come on,” Price said in his most neutral yet sympathetic voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

No one had seen you since returning to the safe house.

Everyone had dispersed upon returning, taking the time to decompress and regain their composure.

Gaz and Soap had crashed nearly the moment that their bodies collapsed on opposite sides of the living space of the house. Soap didn’t even bother taking off his pack or boots, but Gaz at least made the time to get his gear off.

Ghost immediately went on watch, sitting at the window near the front door to keep an eye out for unwanted guests and intruders. Ghost never slept much.

Price unpacked all of his belongings in his pack, noting the inventory of each item and what needed to be rearranged. It was busy work really, because he was preoccupied with thinking about you. In some ways, he felt responsible for this whole thing.

He thought that he had done you a favor by letting you take the reins on this one. He knew it would be a good experience for you, and it was just another thing that Price would brag on you about. But he hadn’t expected it to go the way that it had. If he had known that it was going to blow up (literally) in your face then he never would’ve appointed this to you

He supposed that really he felt responsible for how you were feeling about it.

Price was trying to give you space. He didn’t want to crowd you when he knew you were feeling lousy and down. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea to let you stew in your own unnecessary guilt.

He gave it some time, allowing at least the initial emotions to simmer down. He rearranged and organized his backpack about three or four times before he made the steps to find you. He had assumed that you were in the single bedroom to be alone, but when he checked only to find an empty, untouched bed, he began to panic.

While he trusted you completely, there was the quick thought of you potentially going back by yourself to rummage through the remains of burned rubble for any kind of salvation to failure did cross his mind. That would’ve been stupid and reckless, but Price knew what sort of desperate things people would do just to prove that they hadn’t failed.

He stepped over Soap and Gaz in the living room, who were both sound asleep and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Price knew that Ghost, who was the most aware of the five of you, would likely know where you were.

He approached the colossal man that was scanning the area outside, but was appreciative when Simon Riley’s mysterious eyes gave attention to him.

“Captain.” Ghost said both as a greeting and a question to his sudden approach.

“Where is she?” Price posed to Ghost, who was always on the same page as him.

“Been keeping my eye on her. She’s outside,” Ghost motioned towards the pickup truck that was parked towards the side of the house. “Hasn’t said a word.”

From where he stood, Price could just barely make out the image of your frame that was sitting on the lowered tailgate of the vehicle. Price let out a long sigh, unsure of what to do. Sometimes addressing the situation made it worse. It made the embarrassment and the disappointment feel unbearable. But other times, not addressing it set a foundation of discouragement that would build on itself. It could ruin your confidence inside and out.

“In my opinion…I think you should have a chat with her, Captain.” Ghost spoke again, as if he knew that Price were weighing his options.

“Think that would be more helpful than leaving her alone?” Price asked.

Beneath the infamous balaclava there was a silhouette of a smirk. It was a knowing expression that said it all.

“As long as it’s from you, then I’d definitely say so.” Ghost replied.

Price nodded with understanding. No sense in beating around the bush if it was that plainly clear. Without another word to Ghost, Price opened the front door and walked outside into the world. Darkness had painted the sky long ago, the night time hours were well upon the 141.

The air outside had a breeze to it. The weather was clear and the temperature was at least comfortable. He loved nights like this, but they meant nothing if you couldn’t enjoy them too. He stopped at the side of the tailgate, his eyes never leaving you.

He noted your lowered head and slumped shoulders, the anxious swings of your feet and the blank stare at the ground beneath you. He had never seen you so defeated.

“It’s awfully quiet out here,” Price remarked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “A beautiful night as well.”

“Yeah.” You mumbled, staring at your feet that were barely swinging beneath you.

Price knew you were hiding out. The embarrassment of facing your teammates and friends after failing to get the job done was tough on anybody. What was worse was trying to work through the disappointment in yourself.

“These things happen.” Price said, wasting no time getting to the point.

A rush of air whispered all around you. It felt like it was mocking you, taunting you for the day’s failure. It was all around you, consuming you in a way that was inescapable.

“Not to me they don’t.”

Price sighed, watching you gaze off into the sky as if there was something worth watching floating around up there. He knew that you were discouraged, and he understood what that felt like.

“Time wasn’t on our side. That’s the only reason that we failed today.” Price went on, taking it upon himself to take the open spot next to you.

He groaned as he hoisted himself up, sitting on the hard metal of the lowered tailgate.

“I blew it. I completely and utterly blew it.” You rambled, your voice thick with disappointment only in yourself.

“What is all of this ‘I’ and ‘me’ shit?” He scoffed. “We all failed to get the job done. This doesn’t fall on you.”

“I was the one who was supposed to get the data transferred,” You argued. “I was the one who wasn’t quick enough.”

Price knew where your head was at. He had been there before, it wasn’t comfortable nor pleasant – but it was something that you just had to work through.

“The room was corrupted. No matter how quick you were, we would’ve lost the information. You’re lucky that we lost the data before any of us made it into the room.” Price pointed out, which truly was something that you hadn’t thought about.

You didn’t have a response. You felt no need to try to argue. Price wouldn’t be able to change your mind.

“If you think you’re going to be perfect all the time and go your entire career without fucking up, then I’m here to tell you right now that you couldn’t be more wrong,” Price rumbled. “You did your best.”

“My best wasn’t good enough, Captain.”

The emphasis on his title stung him. It was that subtle reminder that your relationship was still rather strictly professional.

Fuck. Just call me John!

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” He returned. “You know that.”

It hadn’t been your fault. Deep down, underneath all the damaged pride, you knew that there wasn’t a thing differently that you could’ve done to avoid this outcome. None of you knew that the place was wired and that it was going to vanish right in front of you.

But this was much harder than it should’ve been. Captain Price, the man that you admired and adored so much, had allowed himself to step aside to let you take the lead on this mission. In turn, he witnessed you fail firsthand as a leader.

That hurt more than anything.

The best of the best.

Suddenly, your “best” wasn’t so great after all.

“If you don’t hear anything else I say tonight, at least hear this…” Price sighed, realizing that his words weren’t having any effect on you. “I’m proud of you.”

This time a rush of heat surrounded and flooded you, but it wasn’t from the wind.

“You’re just saying that.” You grumbled.

“I’m not. I’d never say something like that to you if I didn’t mean it.” Price “readjusted” the way that he was sitting.

He was closer to you now, the outside of his thigh was touching yours in a way that sent electrical static through every vein in your body. His eyes were piercing yours the way that they always did when he was thinking about you.

“I am proud of you. You’ve never let me down, and I’ve never seen you as anything less than perfect,” He said, and you were suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. “I care about you.”

You didn’t panic. Breathless and speechless, yes – but in no way were you off put or stunned. This felt…right this time. The other times that the two of you had shared a moment like this (yes, including that one kiss), you had shied away from it. But this time it felt perfect, like right now was the moment that was really supposed to happen.

“John…” You whispered in a way that was more of a plea than anything.

He nearly fainted. His name from your mouth drove him wild, the sound practically touching his own lips. He had waited so long to hear it that it almost didn’t sound like anything. If you didn’t kiss him right now, he was sure he might actually just keel over and die.

There was a moment of unwanted hesitation. This was the very last chance for you to back out. If you had any discomfort with this happening or if you had any question about how you felt about John Price, then this was your only window of opportunity to escape.

“Don’t do this if you’re going to get spooked.” Price’s lips were millimeters from yours, almost close enough to where you could feel the smirk on his face.

But you didn’t take that opportunity.

“I won’t.”

And you kissed him. It was just as tender as the first time and even more passionate. Price chuckled, his laugh muffled by the two of you nearly suffocating each other. The wait had been well worth it, and he felt like everything was falling into place.

Price knew that this was the first of many. The first of many kisses, heartfelt chats, and special moments that he got to share with the most special woman in the world.

Just this once, you could go against a rule. It wouldn’t hurt you, and it surely would benefit you. If going against one of your standards meant that you could have John Price all to yourself? Then it was worth it.

Besides, every rule is meant to be broken.

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good-griief · 1 year

Text

Red - Ellie's Version

this is ellie's version of my safeword headcanon, but i also wrote one for abby here! sorry ellie's is a little more angsty lolol

my hc!

so unlike abby, i think ellie is more interpersonally educated than personally— in the sense that she doesn’t particularly want to focus on how shes feeling unless it’s in a specific context. so i think that means she’s more likely to try and see when you may need to use a safeword, so she can ‘fix’ whatever she’s doing and avoid that. i think she’s probably scared of something like that. even though safewords should indicate trust with your partner, i think she sees that as her doing something wrong and it may make you not trust her, so she doesn’t know exactly what to do without instruction from you— also unlike abby. i think they’re actually pretty similar in how they deal with this, but i think ellie is just a little more unprepared and reliant on you. i think it may make her feel helpless to not know what to do, but she’d rather you instruct her than she do something wrong ‘again’

Safewords were a thing you didn’t particularly like using. You didn’t want to disappoint Ellie, and you didn’t want to make her feel bad, but sometimes it was necessary. She usually tried to gauge when you needed to use one, asking for colors or how you were feeling, but you never said anything other than green, yellow, or good. She would still tone it down, though, knowing you were trying to please her, and making sure not to let you know that she’d caught on in case it made you feel any kind of way.

Tonight, though, you couldn’t take any more of her relentless teasing, fingering, fucking… anything. You were tired, overwhelmed, and unable to handle anymore.

And now, after she’d said you couldn’t look at her anymore and made you get on your hands and knees before having to hold you up, degrading you in the process for not being able to do it yourself, you were giving in to your needs.

“Red,” you choked out quietly, almost quiet enough that she didn’t hear it, but she paused, a— what you interpreted as disgruntled— ‘what?’ coming from her and making you lower your head.

She stopped immediately, carefully letting you lie on the bed as you crossed your arms in front of you and tucked your head into your elbow.

“I… I’m gonna pull out, okay?” Even though you didn’t respond, she carefully pulled the silicone strap from you, swallowing harshly when she heard you cry. She quickly got the strap off, tossing it aside without care and moving to you as you curled into yourself shakily. “Can I touch you?” She reached out but stopped herself when you shook her head. Her lips pursed, nose reddening. She thought she knew you well enough to know when she was going too far, but this time you’d fooled her into thinking you were fine when you weren’t. “I’m gonna get you something comfortable to wear, alright?”

She got up without waiting for a response, going into her drawers for a hoodie and gym shorts for you. She got joggers on herself, leaving finding a shirt alone since she still had a sports bra on.

“Baby?” She spoke tentatively, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you want me to put these on you?”

You pushed yourself up, nearly faltering. Ellie caught you instinctively, as she always held you after sex, but that only made tears fall from your eyes.

“I’m sorry— fuck, I’m sorry,” she stammered out quickly, pulling her hands away from you and getting up. She turned her back as you got on her clothes, cursing at herself internally each time she heard you sniffle. “I’ll go get you some tea,” she said, making sure to tell you why she was walking toward the door.

She braced her hands on the kitchen counter of your shared apartment after turning on the kettle and blowing a slow breath. She knew you needed space, but she didn’t want to give it to you for fear that you’d feel like she didn’t care. She was stuck in a place of not knowing what to do, as she always was on the rare occasions that you really told her to stop. It was only two times before this, and both times you needed different things, but they definitely weren’t her not touching you.

She tried to think over what she did that was any different than usual. She knew she overworked you, but you usually asked her to. Maybe it was too much this time? But it wasn’t any more than the last time you had sex and you loved that; in fact, you’d asked her to be more degrading after that.

“Fuck!” She cursed when she touched the kettle instead of the handle, bringing herself out of her thoughts and quickly rinsing her hand and grabbing a mug. She grabbed a bag of your favorite tea, poured the water over it, and set the kettle aside.

She knocked on the door before peeking her head in, noticing that you were dressed and coming in. She held up the mug, offering a small smile as she kicked the door shut behind her and walked to the bed.

“It’s still hot,” she said as she set the mug on the bedside table and sat across from you, still lying down and hugging her sweater to you. “Will you talk to me?” She asked after a moment, reaching down to brush her fingers beneath your eyes, wiping away more tears as they fell. “Tell me why you’re crying?” She asked with a relieved sigh that you were letting her touch you, her hand cupping your cheek. “I can lie with you… if that’ll help?” You scooted over and she lied down next to you, hiding her eagerness to do so and resting her head on her arm as she met your eyes. “You don’t want to talk to me, do you?” You shook your head, feeling her thumb wipe away more tears. “Are you upset with me?” Again, you shook your head. “Then why can’t we talk? I can’t help if I don’t know what I did…” You went to speak but stopped when you felt yourself about to cry again. She frowned, biting the inside of her cheek. “Can I hug you?” As soon as you held your arms out for her, she pulled you close, feeling your cries become more frequent and waiting for you to speak up so she could stop feeling so useless.

“You’re not mad at me?” You asked when you felt her hug you tighter.

“What?” She pulled back, looking down at you with a frown.

“You're not upset that I—“

“What? No! No, of course not.” She pulled you back into her chest. “No, I’d never be upset with you for trusting me enough to feel confident— or comfortable using a safeword—“ She stopped her rambling when you cried even more. “Please… What can I do?”

“You’d be upset if I didn’t use a safeword, then?” She swallowed, knowing her answer would upset you more. “There are times where I think I might need to, but then you make it go away—“

“I know,” she soothed, rubbing your back. “I didn’t catch it this time. I’m sorry. I thought you were okay.”

“I was, but… you said I couldn’t look at you, and I—“ She refrained from speaking, letting you finish instead of telling you how sorry she was. “I was tired, and you don’t usually make me hold myself up when I am… I know you were probably going to hold me up anyway, but…” You hugged her tighter, blinking out and away your tears. “I don’t like disappointing you.”

She sighed, stroking your hair. “You could never disappoint me.” She pulled back once more, finding your eyes. “Ever… You know that, right?” When you nodded, she pressed a loving kiss to your forehead and moved to sit up, bringing you with her before she turned and grabbed your tea. “It’s your favorite. Please.” She held it to you, and you took the warm mug.

“You didn’t make yourself any?” She smiled at the question, head tilting fondly as she looked over you, no longer crying and just looking extremely cute to her with your big shiny eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Mm-mm,” she finally responded, shaking her head and still staring at you almost dreamily, somehow bringing you comfort. Really, she was trying to make sure nothing else was wrong and got caught up in the process.

“I can make you some.” You reached behind her to set your mug down, and she quickly caught you in a sweet kiss. You smiled into it. “I love you, El,” you said before getting up off the bed and going to the door. “Come with me?”

Now, she knew you were seeking comfort in her company, easing her heart and following you with a smile.

The rest of the night was spent making tea and dinner, Ellie hugging you from behind now that she could, forcing you to walk her wherever you were going until it was finally to the couch. You ended up falling asleep there, Ellie holding you in your exhausted state and keeping you close as you slept. She watched you every so often, making sure you were sleeping peacefully and she was really able to comfort you after that long half-hour. She hated to think that you tried to hide things from her to keep her from being upset, but she liked to know that she knew you well. Hearing that she made it better eased her to no end, and seeing you sleep soundly in her arms reminded her that you still trusted her.

#ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #the last of us ellie #tlou ellie #ellie williams ff #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble #ellie x you #ellie x reader

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iri-2 · 5 months

Text

I Love You Like That

Rating: Not Rated Category: F/F Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Mother Miranda/Reader Characters: Mother Miranda, Karl Heisenberg, Salvatore Moreau, Eva

Summary: As a scientist in The Connections, you and Miranda work together in a laboratory. Over time, you develop feelings for this somewhat harsh but seemingly vulnerable woman. One day, she "takes" you to her hometown.

You find yourself falling for Miranda.

A few months ago, she was just a somewhat sharp-tongued colleague who had recently joined. You don't know why you are attracted to her and trap so deeply.

"I think I might have some feelings for you, Miranda." Your fingers tightly gripping the edge of the notepad.

Miranda's scalpel pauses on the corpse. "Why?"

Why?

How would you know? Most of the time, she doesn't seem that friendly towards you. Until recently.

"Lab romances aren't a good idea. Shouldn’t we just focus on researching the combination of the E-type fungus and cadou?" Miranda rejects you directly.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you, you’re too cold to everything." you mutter, the tip of the pen you're holding trembling on the experiment log, leaving messy ink stains.

Several months ago, the leader of The Connections suddenly announced with excitement that they had found a scientist to join the project you were working on.

As the team's most outstanding researcher, you were assigned to the same laboratory as this scientist, in Romania.

Passing through the purification facility at the entrance, you enter the room. You see a woman already dressed in full lab attire, examining a small piece of tissue under a microscope.

"So, you're THE best researcher? You're here REALLY early," the dark-haired woman says.

"You must be Dr. Miranda? I firmly believe that I arrived on time." You try to ignore the unfriendly sharpness in her tone. This new scientist seems to have no understanding of interpersonal communication.

"In my sense of time, you are late." She doesn't lift her head from the eyepiece.

That’s quite rude.

"Okay, first, you’re new. Second, I’m on time. Third, I hope we can get along well at work," you put on your lab coat.

She takes off the slide and finally wants to take a look at you. "That'll take a while."

… For the sake of the experiment's progress, you silently endure her occasional criticism.

She’s mean all the time. She even uses you as her assistant, handing you the used experimental equipment for cleaning.

"For a hundred times, I'm NOT your assistant! I’m a scientist as you." You can't bear it anymore.

She shrugs her shoulders and remains silent.

… One day, she directs her accusations at you again.

"Did you touch my culture dish?" Miranda accuses you without any evidence.

"Why would I touch your culture dish?" you respond, feeling puzzled.

"It's just the two of us here. If it's not me, it must be you. No one else can come in."

"So, you blame me when your experiment doesn't go well?" You're annoyed.

Every time she starts an experiment with anticipation, but after a failure, she becomes unusually desperate.

Her blue eyes dim a bit, and the wrinkles at the corners deepen.

"Sorry." You hear her say the word for the first time.

She looks vulnerable. She has never revealed to you the purpose of her research. However. every time the experiment fails, the gloom in her eyes deepens a bit. She doesn't seem to have only seen biochemical experiments when she looks at the tissues and cells. When the experiment fails, she seems to have lost her most precious thing.

"It's okay," your anger subsides slightly.

In the next few days, Miranda's accusations against you seem to decrease. Once, while testing the biological activity of one kind of cadou, you were about to cut a small piece when Miranda suddenly stopped the next move of your scalpel.

"Put this on." She hands you safety goggles.

You put on the goggles, and soon you understand why.

This type of cadou sprays green slime when stimulated, splattering on your goggles and mask, and it smells awful.

"Well, thanks, Miranda."

"No problem." Miranda says gently.

In the following weeks, she finally treats you completely as a colleague. Sometimes she will leave some very clean culture dishes and test tubes by your side. Once she suddenly appears behind you, tidying up the collar of the lab suit you hastily put on in the morning, and then goes to do her experiment as if nothing has happened.

You have become accustomed to her harshness towards you, and recently her tenderness and concern for you have made you start to worry about her situation. What makes this woman who always uses ridicule and condescension to communicate with others like this? And what makes her depart from her normal behavior?

Sometimes when you observe your chemical reaction, you feel someone looking at you from behind. When you turn around, you only see Miranda writing the experimental report seriously.

… You shouldn't have started caring about her. This has kept your gaze on her for too long, so long that you realize you have fallen in love with her.

But out of professionalism - or more importantly, you still think Miranda will treat you with her cold attitude, just like she has built a defense line in her heart, making your heart break, so you just hold your feelings.

… Six months later, when you place the cells you cultivated under the microscope, you witness unprecedented success.

"Miranda! Come here!" you wave for Miranda to come over.

She observes the cell activity under the microscope.

"These are cells I cultivated with an entirely new serum," you say with joy in your tone.

"Eva…" Miranda murmurs.

"Our project has finally made a breakthrough." You write something in your experiment log.

Miranda looks up, muscles twitching on her face, as if suppressing ecstasy. "You’re better than I thought."

"Let’s just pretend I didn't mention this," you place the notebook on the desk. You regret your impulsiveness. What were you thinking?

Miranda holds the equally cold surgical knife in her cold hand and hovers over the body for a while before continuing with the dissection.

Miranda doesn't speak much that day. At the end of the work, she takes off her lab uniform and speaks to you as if she has made up her mind, "I didn't tell you and most people about my research purpose because people would think I was crazy and that I just needed to find a psychologist,"she continues,"I want you to know my purpose."

"But this is a surprise, and you might not like it."she adds.

"Try me," as someone who has just been rejected, you speak weakly.

Miranda takes a step towards you, and you see her hand getting closer to you, then it lands on your face.

And then you plunge into darkness.

"Wake up, wake up." You hear Miranda calling your name.

"What?" You open your eyes and find yourself leaning on her.

She sees you awake, coughs awkwardly, straightens your body, and steps away from you.

"Is this your idea of a 'surprise'? The best I could think of was that you blindfolded me and took me somewhere, not something resembling a kidnapping." You're a bit annoyed and confused,"How did you make me faint that quick?"

"I did say you might not like it," Miranda avoids your question.

"Where did you bring me?" You glance around, it looks like a vineyard.

"My hometown," she replies.

Miranda guides you out of the vineyard and onto the road.

The houses around are very low, the highest looking like it has only two floors. Some houses have adjacent livestock sheds with pigs and chicks.

The villagers here wear clothes from the last century, some grinding flour, others rolling hay. They stop their activities in surprise when you pass by, and when they see Miranda beside you, surprise turns to fear. They quickly return to their work.

"Don't be surprised, they rarely see outsiders, so they react like that," Miranda calmly explains to you.

"But they seem scared of you," you turn to Miranda.

"Probably because I look different from usual. This village is conservative, and they're not used to new things," Miranda tries to explain.

What is she like usually? Does she wear the same clothes as the villagers? You rarely see Miranda in anything other than a lab coat, and today she wears a simple solid-color cardigan. You can't help but imagine Miranda wearing the villagers' clothes.

"Why don't they go to the outside world?" you mutter.

As you go further, people become scarce until you enter a field where there's no sign of villagers.

"We're here," Miranda leads you to a house.

This house is built against the mountainside, away from the village center.

She opens the door and enters with you. The furnishings inside the house match the vintage theme of the village.

"Is this where you live?" you ask.

"Yes, not used to it?" she gazes at you.

"I just didn't expect someone like you to be so unmodernized," you murmur.

"Come see my lab." She ignores your sarcasm.

"You also have a laboratory here?" The size of this house doesn't look like it can accommodate a laboratory.

She opens a door deep inside the house, leading to a bedroom.

"Well…?"

She goes to a corner and pulls down a switch.

There's a click, and the blank wall in front of you starts moving to the sides, revealing a laboratory still marked by the passage of time.

"I see. But why do you hide the lab?"When you think this woman is strange enough, she still has surprises waiting for you.

She gestures for you to enter her laboratory. A damaged wooden table is scattered with various books and a few black-and-white photos.

You see a photo of a dark haired woman holding a little baby. "Is this you?"

"Yes."You never see her this emotional before, her blue eyes slightly dimming.

"This child…"

"She was my daughter."Miranda's voice carries endless sorrow. "She died when she was ten."

"Oh, I’m sorry, Miranda." You look at her, your voice softens.

"That's why I'm researching the Megamycete; I want to bring Eva back." Miranda's hand holds your arm.

"That's why when your experiment failed, you were like a soul being pulled out of your body?" You feel the coldness of her hand. Has she always been this cold? "I believe you can succeed, our research is progressing well."

Her blue eyes have returned to their original state, looking at you with immense tenderness. "You've helped me a lot. Thank you." She seems to find it awkward to say such things. She lets go of your arm, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She appears so fragile.

"You know, you can tell me directly in our laboratory." You don't think she needs to use "kidnapping" to take you to this village surrounded by deep mountains to tell you this.

"There are still some things that I will let you know here," she doesn't think she does this with great fanfare.

Miranda insists you stay overnight in her bedroom.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll rest on the couch." Miranda is about to sit down.

"Miranda?" You call her from the bedside.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like to hear Eva's story."

Miranda freezes in her movements, then stands up and says, "Not many people ask about her."

"If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to force it." You see sadness engulfing her again.

"It's okay, I don't mind talking about her." She slowly walks towards you and sits beside you.

"Eva was born in August. I remember it was a hot day, and giving birth to that little one exhausted me." Miranda's gaze focuses in the distance as she smiles.

"Her eyes were blue…"

"Like her mother."

She looks at you gently. "Yes, just like me."

"She was the smartest among her peers, learned things quickly. She got along well with other kids, everyone wanted to be friends with her." Miranda speaks softly.

"She even learned carving from the village carpenter. One day, she excitedly ran home, holding something in her hands, shouting, 'Mom! Look at what I made today!' She raised a wood carving in front of me, which was in the shape of a goat. The head and body were divided into two parts and pieced together. I held little Eva in my arms and praised her for doing so well. She was thrilled."

A wood carving of goat? You seem to have seen something similar in the village.

"She used to visit various houses in the village every day, helping them with chores. She was so energetic." Happiness surrounds Miranda as she speaks.

You listen attentively to her storytelling. This is the most time Miranda talks, maybe too much.

After that, it's not your fault. The day-to-day research makes you sleep very little. In Miranda's gentle voice, it feels like listening to a bedtime story, and you grow sleepy.

Your head tilts to the side, hands on your stomach, breathing steady.

Miranda lifts you gently from the bedside, letting you lie down on the bed. She covers you with a blanket, arranges the pillow, and sits by your side, watching you sleep peacefully.

Lab romances? Sounds fun.

You wake up from Miranda's blanket, and the scent of her woody perfume lingers in the air. Getting off the bed, you walk to the kitchen.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty." Miranda sits at the dining table.

"Good morning." You lazily reply.

"Your breakfast." She points to the apple pie and fried egg on the table.

"What about you?" You look at the complete apple pie and ask her.

"I've already eaten." She picks up her tea and takes a sip.

"Any plans for today?" You cut a piece of the fried egg and put it in your mouth.

"We're going to Heisenberg's factory."

"Heisenberg's factory?" You question.

"Yes, Karl Heisenberg is my… assistant. He's advanced in bioelectric research."

"Oh, you have 'assistants' here too? I thought I was the only one of yours." You tease her.

"They are indeed my assistants, but you you're different." She awkwardly coughs.

You feel a bit pleased that you successfully teased Miranda.

"Have your breakfast now, we'll head to the factory. It's located outside the village, a bit far." Miranda gestures towards your breakfast.

"Why not 'kidnap' me there? Seems quicker." You take a bite of the apple pie.

"I could, but I prefer you to walk there with me consciously." Miranda finishes her tea.

"What do you mean by 'I could'?"

"Eat your breakfast."

Miranda and you walk on an ancient bridge. In the village, you still feel the strange gazes of the villagers, but after Miranda glares at them, they dare not stare at you anymore.

"Miranda?" You tilt your head to look at her.

"What's wrong?" Miranda softly responds.

"Why do I feel like the villagers are afraid of you?" You ask her.

"We'll talk about it later." Miranda doesn't want to say more.

Outside Heisenberg's factory, wild grasses are overgrown, and abandoned metal parts are scattered in the bushes.

As if predicting your arrival, the factory gate slowly opens, revealing a man standing at the entrance.

He wears a dirty light green trench coat with a tattered wide brim fedora, but his sunglasses are polished to a shine.

"Ah, Miranda, you're here. Welcome." The man opens his arms to welcome you.

"Heisenberg, this is my colleague." Miranda informs him of your name.

"Hello, Miranda said I should show you how bioelectricity works." Heisenberg produces a cigar from behind his back.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

In his workshop, you see various large instruments emitting orange lights, indicating their operation. They are quite different from the precise instruments you are familiar with in your laboratory.

You swear you hear a hissing sound coming from some tightly closed doors.

Heisenberg leads you and Miranda into a dimly lit room with many surgical tables. On them lie many gray-skinned… people?

"These are my experimental results." Heisenberg proudly says. You can see excitement gleaming behind his sunglasses.

"Are these people?" You point to one with an iron drill replacing its arm.

"They used to be. Don't worry, I only experiment on them after they've passed away. They've been implanted with Cadou, and with some electric stimulation, they’ll 'come alive'."

Like Galvani's frog experiment?

"Although the electricity used now is external, in ongoing research, I've enabled them to gradually activate their own neural potentials, making them have life activities, just like a resurrection." Heisenberg explains.

Your understanding of bioelectricity is limited, but you listen to Heisenberg's enthusiastic explanations, occasionally nodding along.

"Perhaps this can help with your research?" Heisenberg finishes his grand speech and hands you a development notebook.

"Thank you, Mr. Heisenberg."

"Call me Karl." Heisenberg corrects.

You filter out his self-praise in the report, summarize the key points about the experiment in your head.

Heisenberg finishes his cigar, casually tossing it on the ground and extinguishing it with his boot. Taking a step forward, he places his hand on your shoulder — the glove he wears is oily, much like the messy strands of his long gray hair.

"I believe Miranda wouldn't choose the wrong person. She never used to wander around the village with outsiders." He gives you a positive look.

Your gaze shifts to Miranda, who is staring at your shoulder. "HEISENBERG! I appreciate your help today, but it's getting late. We should go."

"But it's only noon. Don't you want to stay for lunch or something?" Heisenberg asks you with a smile.

"No need. We have other things to do. You should focus on your own tasks," Miranda immediately rejects him.

"Alright, suit yourselves." Heisenberg walks towards his workbench, starting to clean a metal hammer.

"What else do we have to do?" You ask Miranda as the factory gate behind you automatically closes.

"We're going to the reservoir."

"The reservoir? I guess it's not for some leisurely fishing."

"No, just taking a walk."

"So, this is the 'other things' you mentioned. Sounds important," your tone carries a hint of mockery.

Miranda purses her lips. "It's important to me. Perhaps to Moreau as well."

"Moreau?" A new name.

"He's another assistant of mine, living near the reservoir. We can pay him a visit."

You follow Miranda towards the windmill. Does Moreau live in a windmill? That’s so weird.

Miranda leads you into an elevator, descending into a cave-like area.

Wow, this guy lives in a place even more unusual than Heisenberg.

You hear the sound of someone vomiting.

You see Miranda frown.

Sounds emanate from a small house in the cave, like a comedy show. You hear an odd laughter, followed by chewing noises.

Miranda knocks on the door.

A peculiar-looking guy opens the door.

"Mother!"

You see Miranda shoot him a fierce look.

Mother?

"Oh, no Moth… Mo… Mi… Miranda, you came! Moreau welcomes you to my reservoir! Y…You brought a newcomer." This hunched-over guy speaks with a strange voice, containing a gurgling element, reminiscent of fish blowing bubbles.

After the door is fully open, you see his face clearly under the indoor lights. Wow, his features seem… really bizarre. His eyes are swollen, half-closed, his nose is short, and below, his mouth is wide open, with teeth seemingly having a mind of their own, growing in various directions.

Oh, God bless him.

He acts unusually excited, his skinny arms trembling. He invites you into his house. Miranda looks somewhat reluctant, but she follows you inside.

"Miranda, you're actually here to see me. You rarely visit me!" He's excited like a child, reaching out to you. "And you brought a newcomer!"

"Salvatore, stop. She's my colleague, here to help me with experiments. We just came from Heisenberg's place. We need some data on Cadou." Miranda halts Moreau's action.

"W…Wait for me here. I'll fetch the experimental data right away." Moreau rushes into the inner room and comes out with a stack of documents.

Miranda takes the documents and hands them to you. You carefully avoid touching the suspicious green marks on top and put them into your backpack.

Miranda seems ready to leave, and so do you.

"Miranda! Newcomer! Stay for lunch with me." The person with a strange appearance shouts.

"No, thanks, Moreau." Miranda replies coldly.

Moreau leans forward and grabs something. You follow Miranda and turn around, seeing Moreau holding onto the corner of Miranda's cardigan hem, hunches his back, appearing so small and weak.

"Fine. I can accompany you for a while. Let go." Miranda pulls out the hem from his hand, speaking extremely reluctantly, "No lunch."

She looks at you inquiringly. You nod.

"Just one episode, just one episode like always," Miranda tells him.

Moreau tries to jump up excitedly, completely unaware of the stiffness in Miranda's tone. He continues playing his comedy and starts chewing on the cheese on the plate.

You and Miranda sit side by side on the stools behind Moreau, facing the TV. The comedy is amusing, Moreau giggles, and at one point, he accidentally chokes on the cheese, producing a loud cough. Miranda sits straight, showing no reaction to the comedy.

Is this cave well-ventilated? Why do you smell such a strong fishy odor?

You frown in disgust, praying for this episode to end quickly so you can leave this damp and gloomy place.

The unpleasant smell allows you to catch a faint fragrance from Miranda, like her blanket, woody and pleasant — something you like.

After another ten minutes, the fishy smell intensifies. Unable to bear it any longer, you start moving closer to Miranda, attempting to use her scent to mask the fishy odor.

The fishy smell is really strong, and your face is almost buried in her neck. When your nose brushes against her skin, she slightly recoils.

Miranda speaks.

"Moreau, control yourself."

"Mo… Miranda, I didn't mean to!" Moreau immediately apologizes.

After a while, you feel the fishy smell diminish significantly. You turn your head to rest it on Miranda's shoulder. She doesn't move, lets you lean on her.

The episode finally comes to an end, and you feel relieved.

Miranda says to Moreau, "We should go now."

You stand up quickly, ready to escape.

Moreau appears reluctant, and there seems to be tears in his eyes. "Goodbye, Miranda. Goodbye, newcomer."

Before you can say goodbye, Miranda, without looking back, pulls you away, leaving Moreau behind.

Leaving the reservoir, the air suddenly becomes incredibly fresh. You feel like your foggy brain has been liberated.

"Miranda? Shouldn't we go for lunch?" you poke her arm.

"Sure," Miranda nods.

"Are we going to the restaurant in the village, or…?"

"We'll buy ingredients and cook ourselves."

"Getting another meal from the great scientist? Looking forward to it! The apple pie and fried eggs you made this morning were just perfect." You recall their aftertaste.

Miranda smiles at your reaction. "Let's go and get some ingredients."

You can also find me here.

Thanks for reading!

#re8 village #resident evil village #re8 #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #resident evil #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #mother miranda x reader #she's a poor little bird

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