#of sincerity and/or humanity and/or vulnerability in some sense

[fideidefenswhore]

Again and again, today's popular media represents Henry VIII as lecherous, insatiable, callous, unfeeling and self-centered. The truth is a lot more complex. The character that has emerged over these pages is of a man of strong feeling but little emotional intelligence, wilful and obstinate but also fiery and charismatic, intelligent but blinkered, attempting to rule and preserve his honour against his profound sense of duty and heavy responsibility to fulfil his divinely ordained role. This was a man who channelled great loss and hurt into physical pursuits, intense theological interest and sometimes savage anger; above all , a proud, awesome, and well-intentioned but also flawed and self-deceiving monarch.

1536: The Year that Changed Henry VIII, Suzannah Lipscomb

[missarchive]

pretty boy - preview

spencer reid

summary; Spencer Reid, intelligent but unversed in certain aspects of life, looks for guidance in unfamiliar territory. When he connects with someone more experienced, a dynamic forms that challenges both of them. As they explore trust, boundaries, and control, they uncover new layers of themselves and each other.

cw; +18 minors dni, heavy bdsm themes (literally the whole plot of the fic), sub!spencer, mommy kink, inexperienced!spencer, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, overstimulation, orgasm denial, edging, use of toys, cumplay, spit, spencer really likes being dominated

an; this is just a teaser for my new series! the content warnings do not apply to this preview, but they will become apparent when i post this in full. as always, feedback is appreciated, let me know what you think so far <3

The city hums in the background, its pulse a constant buzz of movement, opportunity, and noise. For Spencer Reid, the chaos outside is nothing compared to the quiet turmoil inside. A mind brimming with knowledge, yet devoid of the experiences most take for granted. His days with the BAU are filled with cases, theories, and human behaviour—things he can analyse, but never truly understand on a personal level.

In the confines of his apartment, Spencer finds solace in routines, in solitude. Yet, there’s something missing. A craving he’s ignored for too long, one he can’t quite name. His loneliness isn’t just the absence of people—it’s the absence of connection, of something deeper.

This craving takes him down a path he never expected, one that leads him to an online forum—a place where boundaries can be explored, where he can ask questions he’s too hesitant to voice in person. Here, he begins his journey, unsure of what he’s seeking, but certain that something must change.

You sit back in your chair, eyes scanning the screen before you. It's late, and the dim light of your desk lamp casts shadows across the room. The soft hum of your laptop is the only sound, aside from the occasional click of your mouse as you navigate through the forum. The world of BDSM, of dominance and submission, has always intrigued you—not just the physical aspect, but the psychological and emotional depth it brings. You’ve been part of this world for years, and while some things have remained constant, you’ve always known that the most powerful dynamic isn’t about control for the sake of control—it’s about trust, nurturing, and care.

Tonight, though, it’s different.

You weren’t planning to interact with anyone new, but something about a particular post catches your attention. His name is Spencer, a man in his mid-twenties, just beginning his exploration into BDSM. The post is hesitant, a little unsure, yet it holds an honesty you can't ignore. He’s seeking advice, asking for guidance—he doesn’t have much experience, but he’s eager to learn. His words are sincere, almost fragile in their vulnerability. You can sense his hesitation, his uncertainty, but there’s something about his openness that makes you feel a sudden protective instinct.

You’re not new to guiding others, to teaching someone how to navigate their desires and boundaries. But this feels different. Spencer doesn’t seem like someone who’s seeking a casual encounter or someone just wanting to explore for fun. He seems like he’s genuinely seeking a deeper connection, a way to understand himself in a way he hasn’t had the chance to before. And that’s something you can relate to. 

Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you consider your response. You don’t want to scare him off with too much, but you also want to reassure him that he’s not alone in this. He’s not the first person to feel uncertain, and he certainly won’t be the last.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅

[suntoru]

❝ 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ❞

─ ✰ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: scaramouche thinks you’re an awfully clumsy human being. you’re lucky he loves you just as much as you like to see him suffer.

─ ✰ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, kissing, slight blood (you get hurt), 1.4k words

─ ✰ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is very half baked ill write more genshin I SWEARRRR

"stupid," scaramouche mumbles under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

if you didn't know any better you'd think he was degrading you, but his actions betray his words. though his tone may sound brash and condescending, you've grown accustomed to his prickly demeanor. there's a subtle shift in his voice, a hint of concern mingling with a sense of protectiveness. he squats down right next to where you're clutching your bloody knee.

pulling you snug against his chest, his touch is surprisingly gentle as he carefully inspects the scrape you received from tripping over a rock. despite his initial dismissal, there's a sincerity in his actions that speaks volumes. it's as if beneath his layers of harshness and sarcasm, there lies a genuine desire to ensure your well-being, hidden behind a facade of indifference.

he sighs, tenderly blowing air on the scrape in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain. "does it hurt?" he mumbles, his tone attempting to regain some of his abrasive personality. but when it comes to you, he finds it impossible to maintain his usual harshness. you nod softly, your eyes glazed over in a blurry haze, and he can't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest. or rather, the place where he would feel a sensation if he had a heart.

he's at a loss for how to make it feel better, his mildly annoyed faltering in the face of your discomfort. his nose crinkles. if it were him in this situation, he would have brushed it off easily, perhaps even stomped on the flowers in the surrounding area for good measure. a scrape like the one on your knee would be insignificant to him.

but mortals are so fragile, so easily breakable. you cry over small, uncontrollable events, like someone passing away or falling on your knee. you're bad for his health, he swears silently to himself. every time you trip or stumble or shed a tear, he finds himself inexplicably worrying about you. it's a strange feeling, one he's not accustomed to— caring for the emotions of someone other than himself. he doesn't like feeling vulnerable, yet in your presence, vulnerability seems inevitable.

but it's not all mortals he feels this way for. if it were one of his subordinates, he would have had them punished severely for shedding tears over such a small thing. however, with you, he finds it's different. he knows, all too well, the nature of human life, witnessing countless souls fade away in the blink of an eye; your lifespan is but a fleeting moment compared to his eternity. perhaps that's why he worries so much. scolding you for not taking proper care of yourself, angrily patching you up when you get hurt— these actions have become common occurrences.

yet, it doesn't stop the sinking feeling he gets every time it happens. it's as if with each scrape, each tear, he's reminded of the fragility of your existence. and in that reminder, he feels an unfamiliar pang of concern, a whisper of something resembling... affection. how strange.

he finds his fingers instinctively wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek, a frown marring his usually composed features. retrieving a spare bandaid, patterned with cute bunnies that you had insisted on buying, he takes extra caution when tending to your wound. somehow, you always manage to find trouble, a fact that both frustrates and perplexes him.

you're such a baby, always getting yourself into situations that require his attention. and yet, for some reason, he doesn't exactly mind it. after all, he'd rather you seek his comfort over a dimwit like a certain ginger harbinger.

you nuzzle into his touch, letting out soft sniffles as you pout sadly, wincing at the pain. he tries to be as gentle as possible, tenderly placing the bandaid over the scrape with the utmost care. and when you're not looking, he shoots a glare at the stupid rock that caused you harm, silently cursing its existence.

"hurts..." you mumble, tugging on his sleeve with pleading eyes. "will you kiss it better?" you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability. he hesitates, his mind immediately conjuring up logical reasons why such an action would be ineffective and potentially harmful. but the look on your face melts his resolve, and with a resigned sigh, he leans in and tenderly presses a kiss on top of your so-called 'boo boo'. it's a small gesture, but he can't deny the warmth that spreads through him at the sight of your grateful smile.

in one motion, he tilts his oversized hat downwards, completely blocking his face, leaving you blinking softly and cocking your head in confusion. what could he possibly be doing?

"...scara?" you question, attempting to shift to where he seems to be looking. but as soon as you move, he shifts his gaze elsewhere, and you mimic his movements, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

"would you stop that?" he scowls finally, ceasing his movements and refusing to meet your gaze. his cheeks are tinged with a pretty pink hue, gradually deepening into a full-blown red, a clear sign of his embarrassment. you can't help but stare at him innocently before bursting into laughter, playfully pinching his cheek as you tease him about his flushed face.

"aww, scara, you flustered?" you taunt, but he swats away your hand, attempting to evade your playful teasing. "i'm not—" he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to find the right words, but the embarrassment on his face speaks volumes. with a bratty huff, he removes his beloved hat from his head and places it firmly onto yours, obstructing your vision. his hand remains firmly placed on your head to ensure you don't pull it off.

"hey!!!" you protest, squirming in an attempt to lift the hat, but his grip remains steadfast. he's adamant on not letting you see his face; perhaps you've gone a bit too far now. is he pouting at you? gently, you intertwine your delicate fingers with the hand that's pressing down the hat, silently coaxing him to relent. eventually, he does, allowing you to lift the hat and meet his gaze, although he still stubbornly avoids making direct eye contact, staring off into the distance with a petulant expression.

he resembles a toddler at this moment, cheeks puffed in annoyance, yet his hand remains firmly clasped against yours. despite his outward irritation, you don't miss the way his thumb gently moves back and forth, caressing your fingers.

it's endearing, really, and you can't help but smile at his adorable display. surely, he wouldn't mind too much if you continued to tease him, would he? with that mischievous thought in mind, you press a tender kiss to his cheek, lips as soft as custard pressed sweetly against his pale porcelain skin. nuzzling into his face softly, he predictably flinches back, his embarrassment turning a deeper shade of red.

"hah? what was that for?" he hisses, but you can see the subtle fluster dancing in his eyes, betraying his composed facade. suddenly, he feels trapped in a dizzying spiral of butterflies in his stomach, unable to think clearly as every single thought in his head revolves around you. "hm?" you giggle mischievously, playing innocent.

"i'm just... kissing it better."

bonus!!

a day later, scaramouche stealthily makes his way back to the spot where you had tripped and hurt yourself. squatting down, he inspects the object responsible for your fall with a disdainful glare. it's just a stupid, ugly grey rock. annoyingly mundane.

"you'll never be a precious gem like you wish you were," he snarls, his voice dripping with contempt as he channels his elemental skills against it, slamming it against various surfaces with relentless force.

"you're boring. get out of my sight." with each strike, he vents his frustration, punishing the rock for its audacity to cause you harm. he continues to torment the poor rock, his determination unwavering until it's reduced to mere shambles, pebbles scattered haphazardly across the ground. only then does he allow himself a satisfied huff, a smirk of triumph gracing his lips as he surveys his handiwork. with a sense of accomplishment, he strides proudly away, eager to return home to you.

© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[elliespuns]

What would Joel do if Jackson’s sweet lil cinnamon roll, too good for this world gal who can at the same time kick some major ass, confessed to Joel that she has a crush on him? (Assuming the age gap isn’t too big)

Let's say she's in her late 20 or early 30s.

Joel's likely initial reactions

Joel is a man who carries a lot of baggage. He's been through immense trauma, has built walls around himself, and likely doesn't see himself as someone worthy of affection. He'd probably be caught completely off guard. His first thought might be that he misunderstood her, or that she's joking.

He could not believe her at first. Given his past and the world he lives in, Joel is naturally suspicious of people's motives. He'd likely be wondering why she's interested in him. Is she trying to manipulate him? Does she want something from him? Is she just naive?

He'd immediately put up his emotional defenses. He wouldn't want to let himself be vulnerable, especially to someone he cares about—which is likely someone who has all the qualities you’ve mentioned.

But despite his best efforts, there would likely be a flicker of something in his eyes. A hint of surprise, maybe a touch of warmth, or even a glimmer of hope. He's still a human being, and deep down, a part of him probably longs for connection.

What he would likely say/do

Initially, he'd probably try to deflect. He might say something like "You got the wrong idea", "I'm not the guy you think I am" or even "What makes you say that?" as a way of probing her motives without revealing his own feelings.

He would observe her closely. He'd be watching her body language, listening to her tone of voice, trying to discern if she's being genuine.

He might try to gently discourage her. He wouldn't want to hurt her, especially if she's genuinely good-hearted. He'd likely try to emphasize the dangers of his life and his own flaws. He might say something like "I'm not good for you", "My life is... complicated", "You deserve better"

However, if she's persistent and genuine, and he senses that she truly understands his flaws and still cares, he might start to soften.

If she calls him out on his bullsh*t. He's been around enough to know when someone is sincere and seeing him for who he is. If she is able to see his good side, and his bad, something will probably shift.

Factors influencing his reaction

His relationship with her before the confession Were they close friends? Acquaintances? Did he already have feelings for her (consciously or unconsciously)? A pre-existing bond would make him more receptive, but also more cautious.

Her approach Was she direct and vulnerable, or more subtle? A direct approach might shock him, but also impress him with her courage. Something subtle might allow his defenses to be more fortified.

The timing Where are they in the story? What's going on in their lives? Are they in immediate danger? A stressful situation might make him push her away for her own safety.

His own internal state Is he feeling particularly vulnerable or lonely at the time? Has he recently experienced a loss or a moment of connection that has softened him?

[feinv]

John Wick x fem!reader please? 🥺

john wick x f!reader. hurt/comfort (?). reader has abandonment issues. also her hair can be tucked. fluffy fluff.

combined w this ask. and a gif to better understand what’s going on. <3

john felt a warm sense of contentment wash over him as you settled in his lap, your head resting on the pillows underneath his shoulder as you curled up into a ball. he ran his fingers through you hair, gently massaging your scalp as he spoke. "comfortable?" he asked, his baritone voice so affectionate towards you.

you weakly nodded your head, your hands finding his arm and wrapping themselves tightly around it, holding onto it for dear life.

he could tell you were feeling weak and vulnerable, in need of comfort and reassurance. it wasn’t unlike you, but like every other human being, you had your moments too, and he made sure not to leave you in solitude during those.

john felt a pang of concern as you squeezed his arm, your grip tight and tremulous. something was definitely bothering you. "is everything alright, sweetheart?" he questioned, voice laced with worry as his other hand rubbed at your hip.

you buried your nose in the sleeve of his shirt, your fingers tangling with his own before you whispered. “please. don’t ever leave me.”

john's heart ached at your words, the vulnerability in your voice slicing through him like a literal knife. is this the kind of pain his enemies felt when he stabbed them? no. this was undoubtedly so much worse.

"wha- why would i ever leave you?" his tone a mix of confusion and sadness. “darling- hey. look at me.” his free hand tilted your head so he could look down at you, his thumb soothing the soft skin of your cheek, his warm brown eyes staring into your teary ones.

“i…you are the only one worth living. i can’t imagine my life without you. nor do i want to.” he said firmly, his voice rough but at the same time soo so gentle with emotion.

his fingers brushed some strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear gently as your tears finally broke free from your eyes, to which john’s arms protectively encircled your body close to him, his calloused palm on the back of your head burying you into his chest, as you wrapped your hands around his neck.

he patted your hair while you dampened his shirt, his other hand finding his way under your shirt and rubbing gentle circles on the warm nude skin of your lower back. all while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

"you know i will always take care of you, sweetheart. in every possible way.” he said fiercely, voice filled with conviction. he leaned your body back slightly, your puffy lips and red eyes shattering his heart yet again. he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as he spoke.

“i know you don’t like hearing about it but…i would kill for you.” his thumb tracing over the outline of your lips. the lips he so loved kissing every day. “and i would sooner die than hurt you, darlin’. you are my priority.” whispering the last word. “always."

your voice was quivering as you looked up to him, batting your wet eyelashes. “promise?”

“pinky promise.” the seriousness of his tone made you giggle as you squinted your eyes, the last hot tears running down your waterline, the corner of his lips turning upwards as he cheered you up at least in some way.

he captured your mouth in a sweet and loving kiss, his lips moving so soft and tender against yours as if trying to tell you to never doubt his love ever again. all your worries vanished when his tilted your chin up with his thumb and index finger to deepen the kiss, muttering a sincere i love you in between. <3

[grammarpedant]

Crashes in here, hi this is my main blog and I just saw the tags you left on my art of Miki and the CombatBot and I'm going just a little insane over them. I've been thinking of a fic from Miki's POV for Rogue Protocol for a while and while I don't think I have the skill to pull that off I am SO EXCITED to see that someone else has had the same thought!!! Urg... I just love Miki so so much and seeing how the events unfold from its POV would be so interesting.

I think I gotta go draw Miki some more now hehe. Good luck with writing!!

(the Miki art in question)

Hehe, right? Miki is SUCH a character full of so many hidden depths and surprises, greatest of all is that it's also exactly what it looks like on the surface, in full sincerity: a sweet, kind person of a bot that cared very deeply about its friends and wanted to be able to count Murderbot among them. It also deliberately obfuscates the truth from Murderbot and from Don Abene alike on multiple occasions, it seems to sense what MB means and feels through the feed almost better than MB itself, it's a science bot with visual magnification abilities beyond MB's, when it's stressed and pressed for time it stops trying to talk like a human and goes back to its native code language; Miki has in-jokes with its human friends, but I never had a friend like me. And that's just random stuff I pulled from skimming the book looking for something else! Miki is just such a fascinating character!!

And in this fandom we just LOVE our outsider POVs, haha. I'm sure others have done or tried to do Miki POV of the book before, but I'm gonna use this moment as an opportunity to gush about the thing I want to write- I left the tags that I did because what came to me first was the bit leading up to the same scene you've depicted, the tragic beauty of Miki choosing the trajectory that it did. I have a heartwrenching final scene of Miki's POV in those moments that I absolutely cannot show anyone, not least because the scene simply will not hit as hard as it could unless I actually lay the groundwork that would give it a real punch.

Miki would be about (is about) self-determination, right, obviously. But the Miki POV I want to write would also be about a character caught between connection and alienation, a bot among humans and all that entails. —People love and protect Miki, yes, but do they understand it? Don Abene loved it, and Miki loved her too, and what about all the times they struggled to understand each other? The work that it takes to overcome miscommunication? How does Miki feel, knowing that there are some experiences it just cannot share with its human friends, nor they with it? Do they understand each other regardless? Does anybody ever really understand another person? —Miki has a way of talking that's a little clipped and which may seem "childish" to a reader at first glance; given that in times of stress it defaults back to a nonverbal-to-humans mode of bot communication, might we draw parallels between it and the semiverbal disabled experience? —For perhaps the first time in its life Miki met someone who could understand it reflexively, instinctively, empathize with its machinic experiences almost effortlessly. How does it understand this person's refusal to accept the vulnerability of connection? Does Miki understand Murderbot, and if so how much? In what ways?

Those are the themes I'd want to pull at, and to do so I'd use the motifs of Miki's scientific research function. Its literal ability to perceive the world differently from both humans and from MB, its framing of the world through numbers and measurement and factoids and analysis that is nevertheless beautiful to it, even when it struggles to put that beauty to human words. Names. Identity. Choice and free will. Emotion and connection. What Miki was thinking when it looked at MB's camera at the nebula storm and said, Pretty! The jokes and media and little moments it shares with Don Abene. The love and happiness that made it so secure in itself. If I could just get through the groundwork of it all... it would be beautiful. At least as beautiful as the art you drew.

Anyway, I hope you keep drawing Miki, friend! The art you did has already inspired me a bit more 🥰

[linkons-most-wanted]

Magnum Opus - Timeline thoughts

I had a really interesting time deciding where I wanted to place Magnum Opus in their overall relationship timeline. It's a summer memory, where Night of Secrecy is a winter one.

I think the most straightforward interpretation is that, due to the note about Sylus sleeping on the couch/floor, it takes place before Night of Secrecy.

But I really think it can work both ways. Because Sylus remembers her past life and is much more upfront about it than Xavier, there's a thread you can pull in their relationship of things sort of happening "out of order". For example, he calls her his beloved/lover in Grasslands Romance while MC is just warming up to him. We also get surprisingly few on-screen/-page kisses given the palpable sexual tension.

Magnum Opus starts on this note of them not quite saying things outright and preferring to instead leave "marks" and "traces" in each others' lives. Emotionally, for me this fits better after Night of Secrecy because there's still that sense of being indirect, of her asserting herself more into his life. She invites herself along on a dangerous mission, which I interpret as an "earlier" milestone than what we see in Magnum Opus, where they're trying to figure out what it looks like to see each other just-because.

Given Sylus's generally frequent sincere expressions of care, it doesn't strike me as unusual that they'd have sex for the first time before actually figuring out what "boyfriend"/"girlfriend" looks like in their lives.

And then you really get to play with these ideas of restraint and autonomy in their dynamic--how does having slept together change their dynamic? How doesn't it change? How are they navigating the layers of teasing and sincerity in their relationship when it comes to physical intimacy?

That's largely why this Magnum Opus fic ended up being a novelette vs. some fun and indulgent camping sex--these were really interesting ideas to explore while considering Night of Secrecy to have already happened.

It's been especially interesting to work through some of the hesitations that MC might have around being more assertive, and her implicit expectations that Sylus will initiate things, even after saying "a hunter isn't passive" in Night of Secrecy. Humans are often contradictory in this way, having moments of courage followed by stepping back into old patterns, and that's really what sold me on putting Magnum Opus after Night of Secrecy.

There's also an option to think of things like the Touring in Love and Lunar New Year memories as happening either before or after Magnum Opus. If you place them before MO, then you have this idea of them being "special events" and therefore more clear-cut than a just-because date, giving room to have that be a thing that develops separately. A point in support of this is that in those memories we still see Sylus sort of down-playing asking MC out--if I remember correctly, their Touring in Love memory starts with the running into each other.

Alternatively, I think it's just as valid to see those moments as being after MO and reflecting this sort of "new normal" they're adjusting to in terms of being more clear that they want to spend time with each other, and it's easier to do so around special days/events.

As you progress through the affinity unlocks in the "Darling" level, you start to see them check in with each other more and more frequently--Sylus programming Mephisto to be upset if he doesn't see her every day, him calling just to hear her voice, and then eventually them establishing a daily check-in.

So, I like the idea that they both find it a lot easier to spend a holiday with each other than to get to the level of vulnerability required to say, "I want to see you every day, I miss you." And in my interpretation, Magnum Opus is the beginning of them working out how to say that.

Endlessly grateful to the writers for giving us such nuanced, compelling emotional moments to explore. 🥰

[romanticizing-writing]

dear cast, what was your hardest episode to act for (if one applies)?

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

I don't understand why you would want to know (why are people obsessed with seeing me vulnerable), but I suppose I'll entertain my fans. You better appreciate it! The things I'll do for my parent's public image.

I would have to say that the most difficult episode for me to act in was the "Northwest Mansion Mystery" episode. Why? Well, there's multiple reasons behind it, for your information. First of all, Mason is a jerk. ... Okay, fine, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. I'll rephrase — he can be an annoying smart aleck when he wants to. And, for some reason that only he himself will ever know, he decided to be one for the episode. Constantly. So much so that some scenes from the episode weren't planned and instead some of those "times when actors weren't acting" thing. So what if I maybe fired some insults back? Horror is dumb. It's a scientifically proven fact. Besides, he knows that I'm a natural blonde! Yet, he keeps on making comments about how I'm not. Ugh. He's lucky that I don't mind wasting my time with him with how he acts.

Secondly, the episode hit a bit too...personal for me. I may or may not have had a few mental breakdowns that were only calmed down by Mason and the sense of security he gives me, but there's no proof of that. Like, at all. So, don't go poking your nose around any rumors, gossip, or cut takes. Or else I'll sue you. I'm not joking. I'm sure Mr. Stan would be more than willing to be my lawyer for a cut of the profit.

You're Welcome,

Patricia

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

This was a good question! Here — have a sticker for the amazing idea! ^^

Take it! It's a gift between you and me. Anyway— I would have to say that the episode "Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future" was the most difficult for me to act. I'm new at acting, so I didn't know how to make myself emotional or cry at will. Because of this, the ending ended up, admittedly, taking a while to get done. But, everyone was really nice about it! Mr. Stan even gave me some private, one-on-one lessons to help for the scene. It was SO fun. I learned a lot from him! He's the best! I should probably give him a thank-you sticker...

Best wishes,

Mabel <3

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

I don't usually have much trouble when it comes to acting due to my lengthy experience in the film industry. But, I would have to say that the hardest episode to act for was "Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future." Usually, I'm able to detach myself from the other cast members and get deep into the role, but the idea of saying something that was supposed to break Mabel's (the character's) heart when she acted so similar to, well, the actor her was just...

...

It — It took a little longer than it normally would have to get into character for the scene. I don't want to talk about it anymore, nor do I have to. Please don't be like other "fans" and choose to respect my privacy. We're not just people acting for your entertainment — we're real human beings, just like you. I shouldn't have to state that.

Sincerely,

Mason

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

In all honesty, the answer came to me right away — like a dream! Except it's not a dream, since it's the hardest episode I found to act for, heh... Uh, proceeding on, the episode I had the worst time acting for was "The Hand That Rocks the Mabel". Funny, considering that it was my (character's) debut episode, isn't it? It was difficult for me for two reasons. One, it was my first ever time acting with a main role, so I put a teensy bit of pressure onto myself to be perfect. Not too much, but still some. And, two, I — from time to time — got a bit weirded out from the lines and actions I had to act out. Gideon's a lil' creep. I knew this already, of course, but I still got slightly uncomfortable when I finally had to act like one. It's different knowing something about a character beforehand than having it actually play out in front of your eyes. 'Specially if you're the one playing it out. But, I digress.

Best regards,

Deon

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

Thank you for question. I hope that my answer doesn't disappoint, but I can't really think of an episode I had the hardest time acting for, dude (neutral). Like, I had a pretty chill time acting for all of them. Sure, I may have had a little bit of a trouble once in while, but nothing that really stands out. Y'know what I mean? Kinda like when you get all of your dream presents and you're asked to pick a worst one out of all of them. You can't really decide — you feel the same about all of them, but in a positive way. Uh, so yeah. Still, thanks for asking!

Cheers,

Alza (or "Alzamirano" for formality?? Not entirely sure on how to do this, dude...)

P.S. should I have maybe written that extra bit as a "P.S."?

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

I took the moment to think deeply about the question before writing my reply, and I can confirm that I indeed have one! For me personally, I reckon that the episode I had the hardest time acting for was the "Gideon Rises" one. I will be the first one to admit that I'm a huge klutz. Whenever we had to shoot that one scene where I was building Gideon his ginormous robot, I would keep slipping, or dropping stuff, or just straight messing up. We had to do...what? Ten retakes? I don't remember the exact amount. Not that I've developed memory problems like my character, heh. Remembering a specific number just wasn't my top priority.

Respectfully,

Hadron

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

Ooh~! Interesting question. You don't have the intention of stirring up drama, do you? Ah, I'm just messing with you. Haha! Of course you do! Who doesn't? That's why there's an entire genre for it: People crave tragedy and melodrama. Why, it's a fact about society at this point. Why else do you think there are so many angsty fanfictions on WattPad and Ao3? Because people enjoy watching other people suffer!

Oh, and just to clarify, I'm not one of those people. Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a cupcake in my eye (Pinkie Pie, no one could understand your greatness). Sure, I thrive in the chaos and perhaps may cause some of it from time to time, but when it comes down to the serious stuff? Like bad things happening to real people? I'm not going to stand by and make it my own form of entertainment like everyone else.

...

Oh, that got depressing quick, didn't it? My apologies I'mnottrulysorry! Anywho, back to the reason why I'm writing this whole thing — the hardest episode for me to act for? Well, kid, I'll tell ya. It would have to be "Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls". That episode was the main time I struggled out of all of the times I acted for the series. And let me tell you, it was smooth sailing with very little sea monsters threatening the peace when working on the show.

To be more specific, the scene in the Fearamid's Penthouse with Ford was the one I had a difficult time with. Trust me, there's nothing I like more than a challenge, though! Some technical difficulties were overdue after such easy workload and I was prepared for them. Totally. 100%! You better not doubt any of what I'm saying because it's all very much true and if you do you're stupid (jk, I'm sure you're smart if you rightfully have interest in people like me). There definitely was no extra tension between the two of us, and I definitely did not want to bolt the room the moment we were forced to stay onto the same set together. And I definitely did not think back to those days when we met each other in secret. Nor did I remember the twinkle in his brown eyes when he looked at me like I was worth something, stirring up feelings within my heart. I especially did not think of how much I missed him, of how much I regretted our (my) decision to part ways.

Aside from that, everything was a breeze! Acting was — what's the phrase? Oh, yes! Easy peasy lemon squeezy! After all, an actor as talented as moi barely ever has a hard time with the art he perfected.

Yours,

William

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

Ha! You wanna know the episode I had the hardest time acting? You wish. Sure, the question itself may come from innocent motives, but one thing I learned is that if you give the public an inch, they'll take a mile. I reveal what episode was the most difficult for me and why and the information will be spread all across the internet — like a weed growing in a garden! Then, it'll become one big game of telephone where the information gets abridged and summarized and translated to the point where it's phrased entirely differently with some people's personal thoughts added to the mix as if I spoke them aloud. After that, either it's used to turn me into some meme — damaging my reputation and self-worth, but don't tell Ford that — or it'll be used to fuel some controversy or type of slander that only those type of people are capable of coming up with. So, sorry, but I ain't got anything for ya. Try again next time.

Goodbye,

Stan

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

Dear Pickledoesthetumbling,

I compliment you for both your curiosity and decision to take matters into your own hands in order to discover some answers for yourself. Not many people have the confidence to inquire with me about such a subject (though I am absent of any clue why), so I shall reward you for your boldness with an answer.

After thoroughly pondering my many experiences acting for scenes from the show, I have come to a firm and definite conclusion. I can say with absolute certainly that the episode I had the most difficult time acting for was "Weirdmaggedon 3: Take Back the Falls" due to the existence of the Penthouse scene between William and I. I'm sorry to disappoint you in such a manner, but I refuse to give an explanation as for why. It's a personal matter that brings me much discomfort every time my mind thinks of it.

Thank you for your understanding.

Cordially,

Dr. Ford

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

(I'm sorry that this took so long. I ended up being very busy today. I'm planning on eventually writing a fanfic for this AU once I get to the final part of the "Meet the Cast!" series and one of the chapters delves into how William and Ford felt acting out that one scene. Thank you so much for the ask!)

[diekleinesuesse]

Howdy! Date With Death anon here❤️🌻

Heard you were craving a request or two? I've got one: Grim helping a beyond exhausted Sunshine through another sleepless night due to Terrible insomnia from them being a writer? as we writers sometimes stay up into near early mornings of 6 am or 7am while working on projects... (source: a writer who is still up at 7 am working a fanfic project before valentine's day lol.)

Grim’s Gentle Comfort: Helping Sunshine Through the Sleepless Night of Creative Struggle

Grim sat quietly at the edge of the bed, the soft moonlight casting pale shadows across the room. Sunshine, his beloved Sunshine , was hunched over their desk once again, eyes red and tired, yet still staring intently at the blinking cursor on the screen. A mountain of crumpled paper lay scattered around them, remnants of thoughts that refused to take form.

It was the third sleepless night in a row, and Grim could see the toll it was taking. His usually bright and vibrant Sunshine his muse, his everything looked drained, the exhaustion etched deeply into their face. The weight of their insomnia had become more and more apparent, a cloud that refused to lift.

"Hey," Grim’s voice was gentle, almost a whisper, but it still carried his usual undertone of concern. "Sunshine…"

Sunshine didn’t look up. Their fingers hovered over the keyboard, like they were too tired to type, yet unwilling to stop. "I can’t… I just can’t get it right tonight. No matter how hard I try, nothing works." Their voice cracked, a subtle tremor betraying the strength they were trying to muster.

Grim felt his heart ache at the sight. They had been at this for hours, their insomnia turning what should’ve been a peaceful night into an endless cycle of frustration. He hated seeing them like this. He wanted nothing more than to pull them into his arms, to shield them from the weight of their thoughts, but he also understood. Writing wasn’t just a job for Sunshine; it was a passion, a lifeblood that surged through their veins. Yet tonight, the words weren’t coming, and it seemed like the universe itself was testing their limits.

He stood, his skeletal form moving with surprising grace, and slowly crossed the room. “Sunshine, you’ve been at this for too long. You need rest.” His voice was soft but firm, the kind of tone only Grim could pull off always carrying a sense of both authority and tenderness.

"I don’t have time for rest, Grim," Sunshine muttered, their voice flat, the familiar determination creeping back in. "The deadline’s coming up and I’m nowhere near finished. I’ll figure it out, I just need more time."

Grim didn’t even flinch at the mention of deadlines. He understood that pressure all too well. But that didn’t mean he was going to stand idly by and watch them wear themselves thin.

“Sunshine,” he said again, this time his tone shifting slightly. It was more playful, laced with a hint of teasing, but also full of sincerity. "You know, I’m a big fan of your work. And I’ve seen you tackle some of the biggest challenges out there. But this? This is different. You’re running on empty, and I’m not going to sit by and watch you burn yourself out."

Sunshine let out a long sigh, finally lifting their gaze to meet his. There was a flicker of something in their eyes, a mix of exhaustion, frustration, and vulnerability. For a moment, they said nothing, just staring at him as if trying to decide if they were ready to listen.

Grim reached out and gently placed a bony hand on their shoulder, careful not to cause discomfort. “I know you’re a fighter. But even the strongest need help sometimes. And right now, you need me to help you. Let me take care of you.”

Sunshine swallowed hard, their throat tight with emotion. “I don’t want to disappoint you. Or… anyone else. I’ve got to get this right. I’m so close. But I just don’t have it in me anymore…”

Grim’s expression softened, his gaze full of understanding. “You never disappoint me, Sunshine. Not once. You’re human. And sometimes, humans need to rest. You’ve done more than enough. You’ve fought hard to get this far, and I’m proud of you. But you need to take care of yourself, too.”

There was a long pause, the silence hanging between them like a fragile thread. Slowly, Sunshine lowered their head, tears welling in their eyes. “I’m so tired, Grim. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pushing like this.”

Grim’s heart clenched. He knew what it was like to push oneself too far, to keep running even when the body and soul screamed for a break. He couldn’t bear to see them like this any longer.

Without another word, Grim moved closer, pulling Sunshine into his arms. At first, there was a hesitant moment, but soon, Sunshine melted into his embrace, their body sagging with exhaustion. They rested their head against his chest, the coldness of his skeletal form somehow providing the warmth they needed.

“I’ve got you,” Grim murmured softly, running a comforting hand through their hair. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not ever. Rest now. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll take care of everything.”

Tears streamed down Sunshine´s face, but this time, they didn’t try to hide them. The relief of finally letting go, of trusting someone enough to lean on them, was overwhelming. Grim was there, steady and unshakable, and for the first time in days, they felt like they could breathe again.

Grim didn’t speak for a while, simply holding them close, his presence a constant source of reassurance. The quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, the steady warmth that radiated from his touch, was enough to lull Sunshineinto a sense of peace they hadn’t felt in far too long.

“Sleep, Sunshine,” Grim whispered into the quiet night. “You’ve earned it. Tomorrow, we’ll face everything together. But for tonight… tonight, you rest.”

And slowly, as Grim held them in his arms, Sunshine´s body relaxed, the weight of the world momentarily lifting from their shoulders. The insomnia that had plagued them for so long started to fade into the background as they finally allowed themselves to drift off into a much-needed sleep, knowing that Grim would be there when they woke.

♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°☆♡°

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR THIS REQUEST YOU DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU FOR IT<3<3<3<3<3<g3<3<3<3

[cardinalcanis]

Wheel of fortune: part 1.

"Hey kid? Wanna go down this ride as I make my OC miserable?"

[Next]

Summary: Cato discovers a well kept secret between the primarch and his right hand man.

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x Ovidius Sulla (M!OC)

Tw: Cato, violation of privacy

Word count: 707

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

@cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @finchly-tintinnabulation

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

Cato Sicarius strode through the hallways of the Macragge’s Honor  with military precision in each step. He had a simple task: deliver a set of vital documents to Primarch Roboute Guilliman. But as he approached the Primarch’s private quarters, an inexplicable sense of foreboding began to settle in his gut.

Sicarius reached for the door, hesitating momentarily, finding it slightly open. He should have knocked anyway, as Guilliman’s privacy was sacred. Something about the atmosphere emanating the room felt charged, he readied his gun in one hand, he had outlived enough tricks of the warp to identify when something was off. What if the Primarch had been secretly attacked during the recent warp jump? 

The commander of the Victrix Honour Guard’s training kicked in as he readily peered through the opening, just as if ambushing the enemy in the field. The sight that greeted him was unexpected, nothing in the Codex Astartes had prepared him for it.

There, on the edge of Guilliman’s grand, well-ordered desk, sat Ovidius, his disgusting mechanical hands wrapped around the Primarch's shoulders. Guilliman was sitting on the floor over his knees, the only way they could make it so their heights sort of match. Seeing his gene sire on his knees in front of a human overfilled Sicarius with scorn, this, this must be some ruinous corruption. 

The warmth of their closeness radiated between them. Sicarius’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding with disbelief. In that moment, Ovidius leaned in, pressing his lips softly against Guilliman's in a tender kiss, their eyes momentarily closed as they gave themselves to the moment. His disgust grew as he saw how the Primarch melted and surrendered to the Head Logistician’s touch, weakness, that man is planting weakness inside his gene sire. 

There were so many feelings competing inside him; shock, a visceral jolt of confusion and anger. How dare they? The thought flared within him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows of jealousy and betrayal that lurked in his heart. As he stood frozen at the threshold, he found himself grappling with a tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

There was an undeniable sincerity in their connection, an authenticity that radiated from their shared gaze. Ovidius’s usual anxious demeanor melted away in Guilliman’s presence, replaced by a radiant trust that made Sicarius’s chest ache and stomach churn. The Primarch, the demigod, seemed lighter, almost human, in that fleeting moment. Impossible, Guilliman is not human, whatever this is it’ll only bring them ruin. 

Sicarius clenched his fists as the kiss lingered in the air, a silent promise between them, and as Ovidius pulled away, a shy smile graced his lips, illuminating his features. Guilliman’s eyes softened, a glimmer of affection and vulnerability that should not have a place in a being such as a primarch. How long has this been going on? How did it start? He had seen how competent the Head Logistican was at his position but there was something he couldn’t shake off. He knew mortals and how all they change and twist after having a taste of power. That’s why The Son of Ultramar reinstated the tetrarchs among his gene sons, so they would rule without the corruption that inhabits normal human hearts. The Avenging Son was powerful, and Ovidius had gotten just a taste of what that power was, the bastard wanted more. 

He leaned away from the open door and placed the gun back into its holster. Composing his emotions he would politely knock on the door. 

“My Lord, it is I, Cato Sicarius. I bring you updates from the situation on the western front.” he said, masking his disgust with many layers of cold formality. 

It took Roboute Guilliman a bit longer than usual to respond, Cato’s expression twisted as he waited. 

“Commander Sicarius, you may come in.” His gene sire’s voice answered in its usual tone, away from the human he was playing as. 

He entered, the room had shifted, with Guilliman back behind his desk and the Administratum leech sorting paperwork in a far corner. Cato wondered not for how long this charade had been going on, but how he would stop it. But not now, he must pretend nothing happened.

[voraciousvore]

The Tiny (Chapter 3)

Chapter 1 | Previous (2) | Next (4)

Content Warning: Mouthplay, vore themes, Chester being a creep, extreme cringe. I always disliked the chapter this was based on, but since I'm following the format/ events of the original story, I had to include this part. It's bad and too long, maybe just don't read it

Word Count: 4.9k

------ Chapter 3: Temptation ------

I wake up with a big yawn. With my eyes closed, barely aware of what I am doing, I cover my mouth out of habit. My yawn is choked by something entering my mouth. I clamp my jaws shut out of reflex.  

Not something. Someone. She’s alive and moving, writhing with desperation. Puny limbs grapple with my tongue and claw at the roof of my mouth, exciting the predator within me. I brush aside the last cobwebs of sleep as my memories of the prior night snap me out of my daze. All at once, a delectable, voluptuous flavor permeates my tongue, one unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before. I repress a moan as my maw is deluged with drool.  

She’s naturally sweet, yet has a savory undertone that rounds out her flavor perfectly. The taste is undefinable, rich and hearty and delightful, like a slab of chocolate fudge cake. I squish my tongue against her, feeling every inch of her tiny, curvy form. Oh lord. I barely restrain myself from swallowing her right then and there, sucking down my saliva instead. 

I need to stop myself. My stomach roars like a beast. I can’t allow my urges to dominate me, to make the decision for me before my rational mind can sift through the implications. Straining with every muscle in my body to resist the animal need to swallow, I force my jaws open and drag the human out, plopping her into my palm. 

Her legs bend like rubber beneath her and she clumsily sits in my head with a thousand-yard stare, trembling uncontrollably. I can hardly blame her, considering she almost died. My face puckers up with shame as I gaze upon the vulnerable human, drenched in my disgusting spit. Why was she in such a dangerous spot to begin with, right next to my mouth? She must’ve crawled up my pillow to gaze at my face out of curiosity, the foolish girl. I feel as if I should offer some words of comfort, but I’m not entirely sure what to say in such a situation. I should probably check to make sure she’s not hurt. Hopefully, I didn’t crunch her with my molars while in the throes of ecstasy. 

“Um… sorry about that. Are you alright, little one?” She flinches, failing to answer me. The poor dear is terrified, no wonder. She’s on the verge of tears. The silence stretches out to an unbearable degree. I’ve never been proficient in uncomfortable social situations. I can’t expect her to break the ice, either. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you did taste amazing,” I remark, with an ill-timed attempt at humor. 

This statement does not have the intended effect. The human recoils in alarm, throwing up her hands in self-defense as she retreats into the curve of my fingers, as far away from my face as she can get. “P-p-please don’t eat me!” 

My heart breaks as I chide myself internally over my stupidity. “I didn’t mean it like that! Really, I’m sorry.” I lower my voice to a softer tone as I bring her in closer to my eyes, the windows to my soul. I give her a tender, sincere look that I hope will reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” I pray to whatever deity that may be listening that I can keep that promise, but I can sense my self-control slipping even as the words leave my lips. My tongue won’t forget her superlative flavor anytime soon. 

Luckily, she seems to accept my words at face value. The reasoning makes sense: I didn’t swallow her when she was inside my mouth, and the whole thing was an accident to begin with, so perhaps she presumes she is safe. She puts on a brave face, hugging herself tightly to quell her shaking. I’m impressed by her courage, and I encourage her with a genuine smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

I stand up, perhaps too quickly, since she stumbles in my hand. I’m not accustomed to handling humans in a benevolent manner, so this is all new to me. There’s no danger of dropping her, however, as my hand is positively massive compared to her, probably as expansive as an entire room by her standards. I observe as her head swivels with amazement to drink in her unfamiliar surroundings. I can’t help but marvel at holding a sentient person so small. Despite my machinations to the contrary, my heart fills with tenderness. 

I carry her into my bathroom, thanking my lucky stars that I had recently cleaned it. Even so, I doubt she would be too keen on bathing in a somewhat grimy sink. The bathtub would be impossibly large for her, an ocean. I place her on the countertop as an idea enters my brain. 

“Stay here for a moment, I’ll be right back,” I say to her. As if she could go anywhere. I hasten over to the kitchen and grab a bowl from the cupboard. I return and fill it up with warm water from the sink. I add little splotches of soap and shampoo on the edge for her to use. She watches me warily, shirking slightly anytime my hands get too close. I examine my work, before realizing she’s too short to reach the edge on her own. I grab some assorted toiletries and stack them up to create makeshift stairs for her. 

“Will that work?” I ask her, making a concerted effort not to fidget with my hands too much, since every stray movement unsettles the poor girl. She gives a small nod, then looks up at me with anxiety in her eyes like she’s expecting me to do something. I blink, my mind blank. Oh, she needs to undress! My face flames. 

“Uh… hold on a second…” Thinking fast, I grab a washcloth. “Here. You can cover yourself with this. Give me your clothes and I’ll wash them for you.” She obeys, throwing her soggy clothes into a pile. Her tiny head peeks out from under the washcloth as I take them. 

“I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” I assure her. Or perhaps warn her? I back out of the room and delicately close the door behind me. I let out a huge breath and hurry away to the kitchen, my heart pumping like a piston. 

I plant my palms on the counter and hang my head over the sink, allowing my revolting mouthful of slobber to drain in long strands into the basin. I’m disgusted with myself, with my heavy panting, my dirty thoughts. I can barely contain myself, especially as I catch her intoxicating scent on her clothes. My stomach grumbles noisily in an immediate Pavlovian response. 

I bring the clothes up to my lips, inhaling deeply through my nose. The fragrance is divine, even when hidden under layers of smelly spit. My tongue crawls out of my mouth and explores. Her taste lingers, albeit muted. I push the clothes into my mouth, relishing every microscopic iota of flavor I can extract from the cloth. 

It’s fabric, not human flesh, so any pleasure I can derive from it is fleeting. An ugly thought burrows into my brain like a slimy worm. She’s unclothed and helpless right now, in the bathroom. Why should I settle for sucking on her garments when I can experience the real thing? Saliva floods my maw as I fantasize. What I wouldn’t do, to have her in my belly. It would be so easy. Just walk in, pluck her out of the water all nice and clean, and devour. 

With a sigh, I spit the clothes back into my palm. I’m almost resigned, on the precipice of falling into the pitfall of hedonistic indulgence. Yet, a wave of disgust hits me as I scrutinize the clothes. They’re all rumpled and damp with my bodily fluids. And they’re so terribly small. Her shoes and socks are smaller than the nail on my pinky finger. Her little shirt and shorts would burst at the seams if stretched over my fingertip. And there’s even a diminutive bra, to cover mosquito bite breasts, and a feminine pink pair of panties… 

Guilt stabs into me, digging under my ribs. She’s not just some animal. She’s a woman, a person, a sentient being, with her own thoughts and dreams. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ate her. I’m not remorseless like the rest of my family. I’m stupid and soft and I hate it sometimes. I let out a frustrated exhale and run the sink to wash the clothes. 

Thankfully, the collection dries quickly since it’s so tiny, so my humiliating lapse in self-control doesn’t waste too much time. I collect the garments into my hand and return to the bathroom. I listen from the other side of the door, briefly, but I don’t hear any water splashing. I tap the surface with my knuckle, gently. “Can I come in?” 

She squeaks an indistinguishable response. I open the door, keeping my moments slow and gradual. When there’s no exclamation of protest, I stroll in and approach the counter, where she’s curled up under the washcloth. Her eyes are so wide that I fancy they’ll bug out of her head. I don’t speak, since I know my voice will unnerve her. I simply deposit her articles on the counter and turn around to give her privacy while she changes. 

“I’m done,” she whispers with a subdued cough. My heart flutters at the sound of that timid voice, unsteady yet so sweet. I face her and test the waters by offering my palm to her. She quivers like a leaf, and I can tell she won’t be able to step into my hand on her own. I bring my other hand behind her and encourage her forward, guiding her into my palm. She crouches down in the center, still on edge, her eyes never leaving mine. 

I gingerly raise my hand up to my face. I drink in all the details with delight. She’s so cute. Her figure fills out her clothes nicely, with healthy curves that awaken my primordial appetites. My mouth waters anew and my stomach feels hollow, like it urgently needs to be filled. My heart starts to pound with a flurry of emotions. I need to get my urges under control, before I do something I’ll regret. I need to eat. 

“Are you hungry?” I ask, trying to sound casual. She nods, too nervous to speak. I cradle her in my hand as I carry her to the kitchen. My heart is thumping harder, my digestive organs coming alive inside me. The hunger is so intense, I almost want to cry. I don’t want to be an unaccommodating host, but I’m getting desperate to consume anything. I abandon her on the dining room table and rush to whip up a big breakfast, heavy on the protein. 

I pile up my plate with bacon, eggs, and toast. I would’ve added sausage and ham too, but I’m getting impatient. I force myself to remain calm as I set my plate on the table and sit in my chair. I must act like nothing is wrong, lest the woman sense the very real danger she is in. 

“Sorry, I don’t have any dishes or cutlery in your size, so you’ll just have to eat off my plate,” I inform her. I pray I can control myself as I hold off the rising tsunami of my insatiable gluttony to separate a portion for my miniature guest. If I don’t do this now, she won’t get a chance to eat at all, because I’ll vacuum up the whole meal myself. Worse, she might attempt to snag a bite while I’m dining, and end up a bite herself. 

Finally, for the love of God, I can eat. I dig into my vittles with ravenous enthusiasm, wolfing down the eggs and bacon like a starving beast. I know, rationally, that I should slow down to keep the human safe, but I’m so famished I can’t stop. I barely chew as I shovel great big bites into my gross oral cavity and gulp them down like my life depends on it. I throw caution to the wind, but by some miracle the woman doesn’t end up on my fork. I suppose she has the common sense to keep her distance as she nibbles on her portion, in stark contrast to my binging. 

As I chomp my way to the bottom of my plate, a harsh reality sets in that I can’t ignore. The food is fine and good, but it pales in comparison to the gourmet living cuisine sitting at the edge of my dish. A human may be little more than a crumb in my capacious belly, but I know that she would fill me up more than a mountain of eggs and bacon. Humans are special prey to us giants, and the gustatory pleasures of this woman in particular... 

I reach the last forkful of my breakfast. It disappears down my throat all too quickly. I’m not sated. I can only stare down at my empty plate with disappointment. Well... not completely empty. I fail to repress my rapacious bestial nature as my eyes flash over to the human. She turns white as a sheet, and I realize I’ve made a mistake. I soften my expression with an apologetic smile. 

I need to put her mind at ease, perhaps with conversation to distract her from the culinary massacre she just witnessed. “Can I ask you a question?” 

I almost ask her name, a natural icebreaker to get to know a new person, but the question dies on my lips. Is that such a great idea, to know the name of my future snack? Do I want to be haunted with her name after I mercilessly consume her? Do I wish to be corroded with that guilt, if I lose the battle against my powerful cravings? 

Food doesn’t need a name. 

Instead, I fumble to pick a query that I already know the answer to. “Where did you come from?” 

“I-I’m not sure,” she stammers, fidgeting with her shirt. “I was driving my car, and-and it got struck by lightning... and somehow I ended up here.”  

I scratch my chin in a performative display of contemplation, pretending as if such an occurrence is unheard of. “It must have been the lightning.” 

“The lightning?” 

“Yes. I was looking out the window last night and saw a brilliant blue bolt of lightning unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I went out to investigate and... found you.” Warmth swells in my chest at the memory. I feel strangely possessive of her, despite scarcely knowing her. A tempting fantasy anchors in my heart, of keeping her for myself to quell my aching loneliness. I want her in contradictory ways, in her entirety, flesh and body and soul.  

“T-that makes sense I guess.” Every word seems to be a struggle for her to enunciate through her fearful uncertainty. I find her subtle mannerisms, as she wrings her hands and wiggles her eyebrows, quite adorable. 

Should I warn her of the truth? It hardly seems fair to keep her in the dark about the hazards of the giant world she has the misfortune to inhabit as her new home. “It’s not very often that we see humans here in the Land of Giants,” I explain. “And when they do find their way here, they don’t last very long.” I frown solemnly, bitter memories staining my thoughts. 

“W-why’s that?” Her uneasiness shows plainly in her fine features. 

I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. Perhaps it would be best to be direct, rather than sugarcoating the situation. I feel I owe her some semblance of the truth, if I choose to protect her. “Humans are considered a rare delicacy among us giants. Any humans who find themselves in our realm ultimately wind up in a giant’s belly.” 

Her face drains of any color. Her muscles stiffen with terror, yet her fragile body vibrates uncontrollably. The conflicting sentiments of my volatile heart crack me down the middle as I strain to negate my sympathy. I shouldn’t be feeling these tender emotions towards my prey. I’m too sensitive. My father would be disappointed in me. 

I pivot to an unsavory half-truth. “To be honest, if you hadn’t surprised me this morning by unwittingly falling into my mouth, I may have intentionally swallowed you.” I don’t tell her that I had planned to eat her from the beginning, and I will likely eat her in the near future. 

She loses her last shred of composure and backs away to the edge of the table, her chest fluttering with rapid breaths. I can tell she’s inches from bolting, but she has nowhere to go. She glances over her shoulder to the precipitous drop below and stumbles in the opposite direction, clearly disconcerted.  

She looks up at me, her eyes swimming in panicked tears. “I-I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything you ask, just please, please don’t eat me,” she implores. 

The sight breaks me. My desire to reassure her overrides my more cold-blooded, calculated intentions. “Didn’t I already tell you I wasn’t going to eat you?” I claim. I internally wince at the disingenuous words, yet I persist nevertheless. “I’ve had plenty of chances to. If I was going to, I would’ve done it already. Hell, I could’ve easily gobbled you up with my breakfast. But I didn’t.” 

Lies, all lies. It’s technically true that I resisted my carnivorous urges up to now, but the spirit of the statement is patently false. Even so, she’s sobbing and overwhelmed, and I feel terrible, so the lies continue to flow. She looks so helpless and alone on the expansive surface of the table, so I lovingly scoop her up in my hands and bring her in close. 

“I may be a giant, but that doesn’t mean I’m a savage monster. I won’t eat you; I promise,” I murmur. I pray that I can keep my word; I’m not too optimistic on that front. I stare at her intensely, my heart bursting. 

“Ok,” she sniffles. She’s calmed down a bit, but I’m not sure if she’s entirely convinced. My normally cozy cottage suddenly feels claustrophobic, with her enticing fragrance enveloping me with cloying tendrils in the confined space. In the privacy of my home, I worry it would be all too easy for me to succumb to my shameful perversions. 

“Why don’t we take a little walk outside?” I suggest tactfully. “I think we could both use some fresh air.” I bring her over to the front door and open it. The world is fresh and shining with radiance after the rain. I breathe in the clean air to clear my mind. “Do you want to sit on my shoulder?” 

“S-sure,” she quavers. I raise her up to my shoulder and allow her to find a secure spot. She tucks herself into the dip formed by my collarbone and clings to my shirt. “I’m ready,” she lets me know in a faint and tremulous tone. 

I walk cautiously at first, keeping my strides slow and steady so that she can familiarize herself with her new perch. She’s in no danger of falling under my vigilant watch, but I’m sure my lofty height is intimidating for her. I try to enjoy my slice of the scenic woods, sparkling with dew, but all I can focus on is her tiny body nestled up to my skin, her dainty movements, her addicting scent. She overwhelms my senses with a pleasure even more potent than the warmth of the sun, the melodious chirping of the birds and bugs, the scent of trees and flowers and grass. I’m in heaven, with my own little woman to have as my own. 

I find myself gravitating to the spot where I captured her. “This is where I found you,” I tell her. “You’re lucky you had your flashlight; otherwise, I may have stepped on you without even realizing you were there in the dark.” I conceal from her that I was actively hunting for her. 

“Speaking of flashlight…” I spy a glow in a nearby puddle and pull out the miniscule light, just a luminous speck between my fingertips. “Here it is!” I keep searching with enthusiastic curiosity. 

“Ah! Found your car!” I announce, lifting the miniature vehicle out of a slope below a patch of weeds. It’s so absurdly small, like a toy car that easily fits within my hand. I marvel at the intricate details and craftsmanship. Unfortunately, the windshield is shattered, and the exterior is charred from the blue lightning. “Wow, this thing is totaled. I don’t think you’ll be driving it anytime soon.” 

I’m mildly dispirited when she doesn’t answer, but I don’t press her further. I straighten up and begin the journey home in quiet reflection. To my dismay, my urges haven’t subsided in the least. My heart is heavy with a painful burden. I know, deep down, that my willpower will not outlast my ceaseless hunger. I harbor a burgeoning fondness for my little companion. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to kill her. But I desperately want her inside me. 

“Hey, uh… do you know if there’s any way for me to get back home? Where all the humans are?” Her timid voice slashes through my distant thoughts. I stop to measure out a reasonable response that won’t reveal to her too much. I don’t want her to know of all the humans that I’ve eaten in the past. 

“Not that I know of. Nobody really understands how humans managed to get here, and we only hear about your realm from the few we have found. And I think I can be safe in assuming that no giants have made it to the human realm, right?” 

“Yeah.” Her tone is laced with despair. I’m saddened with the knowledge that she won’t last here much longer. I reach up and pet her with my thumb in what I hope is a comforting gesture. 

“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “If there’s a way for me to help you, I will find it.” 

Hollow, empty words. There’s no escape for her, and even if you had the power to help her, you wouldn’t. You’d swallow her down long before she’d have any chance to survive. 

“Thank you,” she answers, oblivious to my inner dialogue. 

I push those intrusive, unhelpful thoughts out of my head. There’s no point in pondering a scenario that’s impossible anyway. Even so, a trickle of guilt leeches into my chest.  

You’re a monster. Nothing more than teeth and a mouth and a digestive system. 

“I guess I should get some work done,” I remark, in an effort to alter the trajectory of my thoughts. 

“Work?” The tiny lady sounds confused. Bless her heart. Did she think that giants didn’t have to work for a living? That we just stomp around the countryside, plucking humans out of their homes and feasting on them? Boy, that would be the life. Things would be so much simpler. How I wish I didn’t have a conscience. 

“Yeah. I’m a freelance writer. I write stories and articles for magazines and other publications,” I elaborate. I enter my house and show her my den, furnished with my beloved computer on a sturdy wooden desk. I wrap my fingers around her, engulfing her in my fist. She struggles and cries for a moment, prompting my heart to beat faster with predatory excitement, before she relaxes again. I release her onto the desk. I fish her car and flashlight out of my pocket and place them next to her. She looks at her car with amazement, as if stunned that I could pick it up so easily. 

“If you have anything in your car that you need, now would be a good time to grab it,” I point out as I settle into my chair. I try to distract myself from my incessant cravings as I boot up my computer and start typing away. Even so, I’m preoccupied, and I can’t help but shift my attention downward when I see that the little damsel is unable to open the doors to her toasted car. She looks so precious, as she strains her arms and braces her legs in a futile jerk, her puny face scrunched in concentration. I pinch the door with my thumb and forefinger and pull it open. To my dismay, the hinges on the door are weaker than I anticipated and I end up ripping the whole door off. 

“Oops,” I mumble, my face heating. “I didn’t mean to do that.” 

“It’s alright,” she graciously forgives me. “It’s not like I could drive it anyways.” She has a point, and I don’t feel quite so bad. I return to my work as she retrieves her personal effects. Even as I become absorbed in the task at hand, I’m always cognizant of her exact location on my desk. Her scent never leaves my awareness, and my eyes follow her as she explores the wooden landscape, interacting with the oversized office supplies and climbing up a stack of books. I’m charmed by her curiosity, and relieved that’s she’s becoming more comfortable around me, but I fear her complacency is misplaced. My senses tirelessly tracking her are an inevitable symptom of more sinister intentions. 

The day passes into dusk, the sky darkening to orange outside the window. Unfortunately, as my breakfast breaks down into nutrients, my hunger waxes to an unbearable degree. I need to eat dinner soon, lest I snatch her off the desk and stuff her into my mouth, sucking her down my throat and relishing the sensations of her flailing in my stomach… 

I swallow a sea of saliva. “I’m almost done,” I announce. My voice sounds too loud, even to my own ears, after the prolonged lapse in conversation. “Give me just… one… second.” I finish the sentence I’m typing with a decisive click of the keys. “I think that’s enough for today.” 

I stretch out my huge body from my toes to my fingers with a loud groan. I use the opportunity to avert my gaze so I don’t come off as a creep when I utter the next phrase. Otherwise, I’d be fixating on my latest obsession with a ravenous leer. “Time for dinner.” 

I know I should let the diminutive woman walk into my hand of her own volition, rather than grabbing her up like I did before, but I’m finding it harder and harder to restrain myself. Without asking for permission, I grasp her between my fingers, reveling in her shape and soft squishiness, before gently cupping her in my palm. To my surprise, she doesn’t resist me. She’s too trusting. It would be so easy, to just give in now. To end her life. To savor her on my tongue, crush her between my teeth, slurp her up… 

Somehow, I make it to the kitchen without eating her or slobbering all over everything. I deposit her onto the counter and scrounge up some shredded cheddar and tortillas. “I was initially planning on making spaghetti, but I imagine that would be a bit messy for you to eat without a fork,” I chuckle. “I believe a quesadilla would be a little easier.” 

Another lie. I just picked something quick because the need to fill my belly is rapidly eclipsing my empathy. I hasten to slap together an edible repast before my rational mind devolves into bloodthirsty savagery. I can’t let myself lose control.  

I can’t keep thinking of her as just some prey animal, some generic, faceless human without a unique personality. Although I worry that I’ll regret my decision, I make a fateful choice. “What’s your name, little one? I wanted to ask you earlier, but I didn’t want to probe you with personal questions when you seemed so frightened.” 

I wanted to dehumanize you and make you less of a person, so that when I finally slaughter you and savor your flesh, I won’t feel as guilty about my sin. 

“M-my name’s Jaclyn, but my friends call me Jackie.” Despite her growing confidence, I still detect a tremor in her vocalization. She is compelling herself to be brave—foolish, so foolish. 

“Can I call you Jackie?” 

“S-sure.” I feel sick inside. In her naïveté, she regards me as a friend. “A-and what’s your name?” 

“Chester.” I’m the man that will kill you and use your bones as toothpicks. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” 

Throughout the whole dinner, I act like the perfect gentleman. I grace her with tidbits of my meal. I help her drink from my cup when she’s thirsty, resisting the temptation to plop her into my beverage and chug her down. I keep the conversation flowing in a light and pleasant fashion. When she grows weary, I bring her bags with her into my bedroom and tuck her into my bed. I turn off the lights and close the door so she can sleep without intrusion. 

I tiptoe over to the living room, sit down on the couch, and tear my hair out with frustration. 

Chapter 4

[zalrb]

oooo, can you please talk about huddy's first kiss? because when i tell you i y e l l e d ! the mix of catharsis and stirred tf up i felt, that THEY felt. please, i miss when tv was like this

OK! So. What's great about Huddy's first kiss is that it's House cutting the bullshit.

Like, throughout the episode, he's challenging her

or messing with her

but she's reacting in the way that she always reacts to him when he's being impossible

So, this means that despite the subject matter, they're on the same page, they're doing the game they always do

it's still "foreplay."

But when he thinks he takes it too far and she shows some emotion, some vulnerability, some sensitivity to what he says

He goes to Wilson i.e. his conscience or his heart for advice on whether or not he took it too far and how to be human in the situation even though he doesn't outright say that

but he even chastises him for not coming to see him about Cuddy and it may be playful but there is a sense of, I'm being a total ass to her and you haven't tried to stop me from doing that and I kinda wish you would've

because her feelings matter to him because he loves her

and by the time Joy is delivered, he realizes that Wilson's assertion that he's making Cuddy feel miserable because he feels abandoned by her is right

but again, he's not going to admit that. He's going to continue being House

but then Cuddy doesn't get to adopt Joy and because House actually does care about Cuddy, he visits her and he tries to play their game, he tries to goad her but she's too emotionally spent to participate

which shows him how low she's actually feeling so he tries to be nice, he tries to pay her a compliment, he tries to tell her that he was wrong

but understandably Cuddy thinks that he's just being an ass so she gets angry

and he's visibly surprised by it because he was being sincere (and this goes back to why he would put her in that patient's room for a compliment)

and his response is to cut the bullshit and kiss her

because his feelings for her are at the centre of all his behaviour throughout the episode,

so he's actually being as vulnerable as she is by confessing, and can we also talk about how Hugh being so tall we see Lisa sink back down to her feet?

[4e7her]

october writing prompt #14 - "i don’t scare you, do i?”

-

character: sebek zigvolt, twst

contains: yandere themes, stalking, gn reader

“What? I don’t scare you, do I?”

Sebek sounds genuinely confused, like he has no clue why you might be afraid of him. Like you hadn’t just caught him outside your home, peering through your window with a nonchalance that made you wonder how often he had done this. How many times he had seen you existing vulnerably in the safety of your own home.

“I know you’re surely a bit surprised, but there’s no need to be afraid. I’ve been watching over you to ensure you wouldn’t get hurt! You’re just a fragile human, after all.”

There’s a lovesick smile on his face, and you shudder at the casual confession. You know that he had a thing with humans but you didn’t think it would manifest as something like stalking. Or was this from something else…? It didn’t seem like his little complex was the only thing talking here, not with that stupid look on his face.

He’s still waiting anxiously for your reply, and when you choose to continue to look over him with some form of fear and disgust, he wilts.

“I guess it was a bit unnerving for you to find out like this, hm? That’s okay! You can go back inside if you want. I’ll be right here protecting you, no need to worry.”

“…I’d rather you leave.”

“Oh.” His face falls flat, and you could swear that there was a shift in the air - everything around you went silent as Sebek stared at you with dark eyes, that loving expression wiped away in an instant. It takes him a long moment to think for what to say in response. “You’re just… surprised. Of course you’d want some time to… process.”

It sounds like he’s more talking to himself than to you, gaze drifting beyond you and into the house.

“Yes, yes, that makes sense.” He exhales heavily, and looks back to you with a soft smile that doesn’t fit the situation at all. God, is he delusional? “Unfortunately, I just can’t do that, darling. Humans are so breakable, you know? I can’t just leave you here. You’re much too precious for that.”

Your blood runs cold at the absolute sincerity in his tone.

It definitely was more than just his little complex over humans. This made it sounds like… he liked you. For some reason. You hardly remember interacting with him in any capacity, so you haven’t the faintest idea as to why.

“We’re meant to be, after all. I can’t let anything harm you.”

-

[click here to go to masterlist.]

[dvrtrblhr]

Toxic codependent dmcl is delicious. Speaking of, I've been thinking of dmcl being mutually possessive of each other. I get why possessive Dimitri is more common but I need possessive toxic Claude as well...I often think about one your arts where Claude is holding Dimitri and glaring at the viewers, it's soooo good

thanks >:3

personally, i'm an advocate for jealous/possessive claude and i'm gonna explain why.

(disclaimer: i'm a believer that human beings are naturally jealous and possessive. i don't think that's a problem per se. the issue comes with how we express those emotions in the real word. feelings are only feelings in our heads. it's how we turn them into actions that can be a problem.) (disclaimer 2: this is an opinion. i'm not saying they're like that in canon ;) feel free to believe whatever suits you)

ok, back to my essay... claude is very different from the other 2 lords in the sense that he very clearly yearns to be loved and accepted. it's why he's even in fódlan. when he begins to believe that maybe he's just too unlovable that he decides to turn that desire into a goal (make the world more accepting to 'others'). dimitri doesn't thinks he deserves love while edelgard doesn't think she should have a very rich emotional inner life as that would get in the way of her much grander goals.

so... claude against all odds, is loved (by dimitri for us dmcl shippers). he feels love in his skin. and he isn't the noblest man either. naturally, he'd want to make sure he keeps feeling love. 'this person (dimitri for us dmcl shippers) is mine. i won't let anyone take him from me.'

but i don't think claude would be too overt in how he displays jealousy, which is why dimitri is usually the one who seems jealous (dimitri is sincere and he lets his heart guide him. besides, dimitri already has the whole 'inner darkness' thing going on).

in a more wholesome scenario, claude would feel foolish (don't have negative feelings! never display vulnerability!) and try to control his jealousy (he would have some outburst and they'd talk about it). in a more toxic scenario claude would still feel foolish, but he would act on it in a way dimitri wouldn't notice. he would make sure to destroy any possible rivals lol. he could even consciously manipulate dimitri to make him more dependent! the possibilities are endless!

dimitri, on the other hand, would be much more obviously jealous. he would glare and say uncomfortable things that would make claude mad ('why are you saying this in front of my classmates?') he would also have ridiculously obvious territorial behavior: like lending his clothes to claude and biting him ;)

[fallinashes]

Either TFP Optimus or TFA Megatron getting jealous ❤️

I TRIED DOING TFA MEGATRON AWELL BUT FOR SOME REASON IT JUST DIDNT SEEM GOOD ENOUGH SO I DIDNT ADD HIM BUT ONCE I GET IT RIGHT ILL POST IT ❤️

TFP OPTIMUS PRIME X FEM! READER

The Autobot base buzzed with activity as you engaged in a friendly conversation with Smokescreen, a fellow autobot and loyal friend. Optimus observed from a distance, his optics narrowing as he noticed the subtle way Smokescreen's laughter drew out your radiant smile.

Feeling a pang in his spark, Optimus couldn't help but be troubled. His thoughts spun with doubts and fears, wondering if he truly deserved your loyalty and attention. Moments like these revealed the vulnerability lurking beneath his stoic facade.

As Smokescreen leaned closer, his playful banter gaining momentum, Optimus felt a surge of possessiveness. Unable to bear the sight any longer, he strode purposefully towards you, his presence commanding attention.

"Excuse me," Optimus interjected, his deep voice cutting through the conversation. Smokescreen turned, slightly taken aback by the sudden interruption. Optimus held himself with an air of authority as he continued, his voice tinged with an unfamiliar edge of determination, "I require your assistance, [Reader], in a matter of utmost importance."

Your attention swiftly shifted from Smokescreen to Optimus, your eyes widening in surprise. Sensing the intensity of the moment, Smokescreen respectfully excused himself, allowing you and Optimus to converse privately.

Once alone, Optimus struggled to find the right words. His gaze averted, his voice carried a hint of vulnerability as he spoke, "I must admit, [Reader], witnessing the camaraderie between you and Smokescreen has brought forth unexpected emotions within me. Jealousy, I believe it is called."

You met his optics with empathy, understanding the turmoil he faced. Placing a gentle hand on his metallic forearm, you reassured him, "Optimus, our bond is forged on trust and understanding. While friendships may blossom, my loyalty and devotion to you as my leader and partner remain steadfast."

Optimus Prime's optics flickered, a mixture of relief and adoration illuminating his faceplate. He inched closer, his voice laden with sincerity, "Your words are a balm to my troubled spark, [Reader]. I am grateful for your unwavering support and the strength of our connection."

As you and Optimus stood there, the tension between you dissipated, replaced by an unbreakable bond fortified by the tumultuous currents of jealousy. In that moment, you both understood that the path you walked together was marked by challenges and tests, but your devotion to one another would always prevail.

With newfound reassurance, Optimus Prime straightened, his presence exuding confidence once more. Together, you resumed your duties, standing side by side, ready to face any threat that may arise. The jealousy that once clouded Optimus's spark had transformed into a renewed commitment to protect and cherish the special bond you shared.

And so, as the Autobot base hummed with activity, the legendary leader and his devoted human ally continued their mission, united in purpose and strengthened by the unyielding love that bound them.

LMK IF I MADE ANY MISTAKES

[kavalyera]

Bbg I did not mean to make an insane fucking lineup for you but alas here we are😔

anyways here’s some character inspiration that helped me build dr kelley<333 and also for the masses to get to know her better :3

Amy Dunne - I watched Gone Girl and read the book and I adored how much of a psychopath Amy was. Her strive to perfection and her constant adaptation to becoming more and more “perfect” in her own eyes to the point it puts her husband and other people at stake was probably the craziest thing I’ve seen and I love her for it. Dr. Kelley is like that in the sense she will become ruthless in order to reach these impossible standards of perfection she holds both to herself and other people.

Dr. Clef - She was my SCP OC before she was my VTM OC and Dr. Clef’s character played a major role. They don’t have anything much in common personality wise, but she makes herself an enigma to protect her reputation and make sure no one knows what else she might do or say.

Anton Chigurh - Both characters are devoid of remorse—though Dr. Kelley still does have a bit of cognitive empathy as she recognizes that she needs to understand people to uphold her reputation. Dr. Kelley never threatens people much like Anton Chigurh, her acts of violence being silent and clean.

GLaDOS - Dr. Kelley is often passive aggressive towards people she looks down upon, which is most people. She’s hates people that don’t have the drive to be smarter or more knowledgeable. Probably the biggest influence on Dr. Kelley’s character because basically the entire foundation of Dr. Kelley’s character is her motivation for a surprisingly sincere passion of medicine and human anatomy which is based of off GLaDOS’ own passion for science :3

Mother Miranda - Both are exceptionally intelligent but both of them have a fatal flaw: their arrogance. Their explosive anger comes after playing calm for far too long, which then causes dangerous shit to happen

Lorraine Broughton - Kind of a new one since I just watched Atomic Blonde and they’re both ENTJs so that’s what they have going on for them!!!! ^_^ They’re both stoic in the terms they don’t let anyone see who they really are. For Dr. Kelley, vulnerability repulses her to the point she finds any form of emotional weakness of her disgusting and that “only humans should feel this way” and other kindred are like okay damn. Both are assertive strategists who are directo and don’t play when it comes to getting shit done💗