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yaespook · 1 year ago

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Run 4 - In Progress.

✧ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Android! Wanderer, no gendered terms used for reader, no actual penetration, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Wanderer, memory manipulation. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: If possible, use the InteractiveFics extension to change the phrase “My name” (without the quotation marks) to the name given to your Wanderer.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

You must have picked him up two or three weeks ago, when he was still worse for wear. In your memory, he was in pretty bad shape when the two of you first met, his main panel wrenched open leaving his circuitry a mess and rough scrapes all over his superficial layer.

Now, with your constant repairs, he’s been more lively, tailing you around the house as you go about your day. While fussing about, dusting off a muzzle laying on a fur pelt, you sense a presence lingering outside your room.

"You know, I don't recall androids being quite so clingy." In return, you get a light huff from behind the door frame.

"And you’ve come across other androids? I didn’t know you run a junkyard here,” the eye roll in his tone is audible.

His feet pad into the room and his gaze hones in on the clerical collar placed on a nearby shelf, glaring at it. Clicking his tongue, he crosses his hands on his chest.

“Whatever, what you do is mostly up to you anyway. Do you think you’re almost done cleaning? I think there’s an internal problem again, I’ll wait for you at the worktable,” the android saunters off nonchalantly, throwing you a light wave over his shoulder.

Sighing, you quickly finish up your task at hand before complying to his request, briskly making your way over to the worktable where he's already perched smugly on, his gaze expectant.

You easily go through the rehearsed motions of plugging him up to your computer, your muscle memory kicking in as you boot up the required softwares before gingerly prying the main panel located on the front of his torso to gain access to his internal workings. Over time, you've gradually figured out the parts that make up the android sitting before you, growing used to the sight of the lengths of wiring and cables running throughout his body, the faint low mechanical whirring of motors and cooling systems.

Most importantly, you now understand how sensitive his central core is. Nestled securely in a latched transparent casing, his core is what powers and sustains him. It emits a constant turquoise light and is also reflected in the glowing markings that lay beneath his synthetic skin that occasionally activate. (Although, you haven't quite gotten an answer for what makes them light up yet.)

“So what's your problem today?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from him as you go over to your computer to check if any bugs have been identified.

“I think that cable all the way at the back came undone and got tangled with the rest.”

You shoot him a pointed look, “Again? Didn’t we just fix that same cable last week?” Shifting your chair so you’re seated before him, poised to conduct your repairs, you make a passing remark, “Maybe taking you to another mechanic might be the better choice, get everything checked out, you know?”

How long have you kept at your task of finally fixing him up to tiptop condition? It’s almost daily when he reports back to you with a new disconnected wire or another loose joint somewhere on him. Diligently, you’ve been trying to repair him but the android is like a never-ending to-do list. And it’s only natural to be concerned if the constant damage stems from a more serious underlying issue that you haven’t managed to discover. The only next logical step would be to get another pair of eyes to help discern the root cause in case anything takes a turn for the worse.

But the reaction you get from him is one unexpected. His head snaps to face you, a scowl evident on his face.

“So you’re handing me off like an unfinished project to someone else now?”

You know how snippy he can get however, this is on a different level from his previous behaviour. Maybe something left over from the days before you found him. It’ll be a good idea to look into his past logs to diagnose any present problems, you make a mental note of it.

“I’m just worried for you, that’s all. What if there’s an urgent issue I can’t fix alone? And we both know I can’t leave you as is.”

His expression mellows to an annoyed pout, looking away as his core glows faintly along with the patterns under his skin, he mumbles, “I’ll be fine.” (“I just need you.”) (“I'm the only one for you.”) (“No one else deserves you.”)

He allows you to work without another complaint, silently watching as your hands venture into his chest, a focused air to you while you look for the problematic cable. He senses your touch when you make contact with it, sucking in a sharp breath as you grip it between your fingers, twisting it around to free it from the surrounding wires before you finally connect and plug it into its rightful place.

“That’s it for your cable issue. Anything else?” He quickly shakes his head.

Giving it a few light cursory pulls to make sure it’s finally secured, (if you weren’t mistaken, his core brightened in time with your tugs), you spare the rest of his parts one last look over. Then, shutting the panel, you unplug him from the computer.

Immediately, he scampers off the worktable with a clipped “thank you” and runs into his room. You hear the door to his room close before its lock clicks.

The next few days prove to be better, the repair requests for any troubles that seem to have cropped up overnight growing more and more infrequent. Perhaps, bit by bit, the end of the repairs start to come into sight.

Although, you have noted that his internal temperatures have been hiking recently whenever you have his chest panel open to patch him up.

This time, you have him lying on the worktable on his back to access the further areas in him. He’s positioned facing upwards but his eyes are darting everywhere, unable to meet your gaze. Once again, the programme open on your computer screen shows how his temperatures are quickly rising even though there are no obvious reasons for such a sudden change. It records the recurrence into its troubleshooting log like before, more times than you can remember.

He’s panting lightly, the android’s chest moving up and down as your ears pick up the sound of his inner fans whir louder, his pre-programmed functions activating to try to cool him down. With no clue as to what could cause this issue, you reach in to look for a fault. Yet, the more you poke and prod around, the higher the warmth within him rises.

Left with more questions than answers, you turn to his core for a closer look. When your fingers brush against the transparent casing, a moan slips out from him, and instantly his head whips to look at you dumbfounded.

An artificial blush takes over his face, a low pink glow blooming from beneath the synthetic layer. A beat passes before he cracks his lips apart, voicebox working as he pleads.

“...Again.”

Gently, you let your fingertips dance over the clasp hinging the casing shut and his response is instant. A shudder rolls through him, as real as it can be, and a shaky exhale leaves him. The android’s back arches up slightly, hastily chasing after your touch when you remove your hand.

Your caress returns when your hand dips deeper into his circuitry, where you hook two fingers underneath his thicker cables, attentively stroking them between your thumb and fingers, before tugging on them forcefully enough to elicit a reaction from him.

His eyes fly open at your ministrations, a greed for more overtaking his processors. You’ve always been so gentle with him when he’s opened up for you, when you have access to the deepest parts of him, when he’s at his most vulnerable. So, to have you toy around with him, show him the indulgence of human flesh, can you really fault him for falling for you?

The tips of your fingers ghost along the length of his metal spine, and the android keens from under you.

“Please, more, I can take it!”

Taking his cue, your hand encircles his spine, grinding the heel of your palm against the ridges of the sensitive metal elements as you pump up and down.

“Sss- so good! Hah…!” He can’t control how he behaves when you treat him so well, like he’s the only one worthy of your attention. He shakes under your touch, trembling as the addictive pleasure overrides his programmed commands.

“No more blubbering, just focus on me.” Your other hand goes to cup his chin, and obediently, he parts his lips for you, allowing you to slip your thumb into his mouth. You can feel his tongue work and when you press down, he jolts suddenly. A gag reflex? In an android? How amusing.

When you stop stroking him, he whines pitifully, muffled moans and begging for you to continue but his complaints stop when he feels you unlatch the lid of his core casing.

“Would you let me?” And the flurry of nods from him confirms his enthusiasm.

With bated breath, he counts the seconds before you make contact with his core. And when he senses your caress on his glowing core in his exposed chest cavity, he breathes out a gasp, as if he requires the intake of air. None of this is written into the basis of his behaviour, not fed into the dataset that makes up how he’s supposed to act, so everything he feels for you must be real.

His eyes go unfocused as his neural network is flooded with the raw pleasure of being enveloped with love and lust down to his literal core. Desire burns within him, evident from the fans whirring even louder than before to bring down his temperatures. It’s just so much for the android’s computations to handle. Broken moans leave him as he tries to vocalise his love for you (as best as he can with his thumb in your mouth).

And when you press a kiss to his unprotected core, his vision whites out.

Eyes wrenched shut, his whole mechanical body jerks upwards, back arching off the worktable as his body propels himself to sit up, his limbs trying to ensnare you in his embrace, to keep you with him as long as he can. Every command in his system is overwritten to hone in on all the sensations of you on him, your touch, your warmth.

The patterns under his skin glow with a pulse, akin to a human’s heartbeat and when his eyes open again, glimmering faux tears roll down his face. His chest heaves as you close the distance between the two of you, cupping his face with both your hands and kissing his tears away.

The android breaks the intimate silence as he quietly asks you, “Can you give me a name?”

When you whisper a name into his ear, he breaks into sobs in your hands.

The days pass by, uneventful, and the time for a final cursory check before deeming him fully repaired comes. He’s poised on the worktable like any other previous session, a bored expression on his face as you flit back and forth between him and the software on your computer.

“You really are a clingy case,” you say and get a huff in return, “But a welcome one.”

Remembering your mental note from before about accessing his past logs, you access it from your computer, pulling up the window with his stored recorded data. The log operates in the background constantly, one of the built-in functions of the android and a quick glance over just to make sure everything is in order should do.

However, the logs prove to be worrying in a completely different way.

[Log: Day 10 - Run 1 - Failed. Werewolf. They’re with that mangy mutt. I don’t know what they see in him. I still remember the care they showed me. There’s always the next run.]

[Log: Day 20 - Run 2 - Failed. It seems I’m too late this time around. That vile selkie captured them first. How irritating. I need to stop hesitating. It’s my love on the line after all.]

[Log: Day 30 - Run 3 - Failed. Incubus. That damn priest and incubus. I can feel my temper reaching its breaking point.]

[Log: Day ??? - Run 4 - In progress. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.]

Your eyes rake across a multitude of grainy snapshots of yourself, all with different people that you can’t find the ability to recall, your mind pounding from the discovery.

He’s gazing expectantly when you look back up at him from the screen. A grin twists its way across his face, canines glinting under the dizzying harsh lighting.

“So now you’ve seen how much I love you, even if you don’t remember it.” There’s a sick obsession dripping in his tone, an uncanny level of emotion that androids normally shouldn’t be able to replicate, one that sends a heavy uneasiness through your whole being, one that roots you to the ground.

When he doesn’t get the adoring reaction from you he expects, the proud expression on his face falls instantly.

He’s despondent, despairing as he tears the connecting cables off of him, launching himself off the worktable, lunging across for you, frenzied, pure scorching mania surging through him.

“You… even after all these runs. You’ve always given me the same thing. My name. I thought this time- You-”

Voice shaky, “It’s a shame this run didn’t work out either.”

He steels himself, hand outstretched, “No matter.”

You blink.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

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meggtheegg · 1 year ago

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FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

#fnaf movie #fnaf movie spoilers #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's spoilers #michael afton #mike schmidt

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totothewolff · 6 months ago

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Chemtrails Over the Yacht Club Collection 18+ | Toto Wolff x reader, age gap, smut operator, clear daddy issues (this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey, duh), and yacht culture.

Summary: Toto Wolff is a name often mentioned at the Yacht Club, where you work after classes. For some reason, you have always pictured him as an old crank like the usual members, not this foxy man who arrives at the reception making your knees quiver. The entire staff goes frenetic as he, one of the Club's most important clients, chooses to spend his spring break there without previous notice. You pray to the Gods that you don't cross lines with him since your entire livehood depends on this job, and you really want to graduate college. Author's note: This was supposed to be a one-shot but was way too long, so I split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy them. By the way, this version of Toto has questionable morals.

< Masterlist | Next chapter >

1 - Dark but just a game

As the sun rises over the Mediterranean Sea, you find yourself running across the streets of Monaco at full speed, like a mad girl, your ponytail swaying behind you like a pendulum, sprinting as fast as you are able all the way from the bus stop to the iconic doorway stairs to Monaco's most prestigious, exclusive, and expensive Yacht Club.

To your fucking luck, you are running late because you didn't hear the many alarms set on your phone.

Not because you are acting lazy; these past weeks have been brutal, and your body is exhausted from work, college, and tests.

As you quickly climb the marble steps, you pray you don't slip and break your nose against them. Cleaning it will be a nightmare, and you already have many chores to do that day.

The staff access is all the way down the next street, but you only have about 2 minutes left to check in on time. Either you use this shortcut or get another notice, so you risk it!

For obvious reasons, the staff isn't supposed to use the member's and guests' main entrance; the one that leads to the glamorous and iconic lobby with the front desk and stunning bar that is featured in many Architectural Digest issues due to his architectural heritage and art deco layout, but fuck it.

You would rather get a reprimand from your boss, the Members Services & Events Department director, than a salary fine. You are already biting your nails to meet this month's end.

As soon as you reach the large double gold-framed doors, you feel the fresh air of the AC hitting your pores with a sweet scent of jasmine.

You want to make the most discreet and casual way in, trying to blend and go unnoticed between the people there and their soft hums of conversations, but Lord! Fate hates you.

As soon as you push the doors open, you feel your keys flying out of your blue short's tiny pocket.

You don't know who to blame the most: the designers who insist on putting those stupid, almost fake pockets on women's clothes, the massive ball of keys your manager insists you carry around at work due to the old-timey tradition of the place, or you for running relentlessly.

The sound the keys make when they hit the pristine and immaculate stone floor makes you want to die; it sounds like a torpedo hitting the ground.

All the people inside there, the ones chatting on the trendy and expensive lounge pearl white sofas, the ones getting down the swirl stairs from the terrace under that beautiful chandelier and massive skylight, the people enjoying their morning by the gold leaf bar drinking their welcoming Italian soda and the expertly crafted canapés along with the hot man standing at the front desk next to your boss turn their heads following the sound, all looking straight at you now as you stand still there in the middle of the room.

The hot man has short brown hair, dark eyes, and a well-built, athletic body that could easily be spotted from a mile away. He exudes power and sexiness, and you can't help but take him in.

"Good morning" is all you come up to say, trying to keep your composure. Fuckity fuck!

The tall man bends his body and reaches down to pick up your rusted keys, which slid near his feet.

"Good morning, kid," he greets you as he enjoys the view of an embarrassed, sweaty, and out-of-breath you, with your hair loosened up from running under the sea breeze and wind in those tiny ass blue shorts and white polo that the Club makes you wear as a uniform, with a very amused smile on his face.

Toto's voice is smooth and captivating, sending shivers down your spine as you listen to him. Your heart races and your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

You can't believe the man in front of you is talking to you so charmingly. Most members and guests are out of touch or rude towards staff.

"Thank you, s-sir," you quickly reply, grabbing the keys with a slight tremble in your voice.

Toto's eyes twinkle with amusement as he observes your reaction. It's clear to him that his presence takes you aback, and he finds it endearing.

"Who the fuck is this specimen of a man, Jesus Christ!" You think, your brain breaking down a bit.

"Right this way, Mr. Wolff," Chloé, your boss, stands right by him.

She is almost his height and a vision of elegance and authority. Her perfectly styled curly hair and soft, evony skin glimmer as she addresses Toto in the most polite voice, stealing his attention from you.

Before looking at you with an "I'm going to murder you," look in her sharp hazel eyes as a silent warning of the impending reprimand you are getting.

You immediately recognize the last name: Wolff. He most likely is Toto Wolff, the successful businessman who owns one of the villas at the Club and has a beautiful yacht by the dock.

You have heard his name many times before. You know he is one of the most important clients and may be spending his spring break here.

You had no idea he was coming; no one in the crew or staff notified you about it, which is the usual when a big name is to arrive.

But most importantly, you had no idea he looked like that; you always pictured him as an old fart.

Damn, he is hot!

As you fix your wild hair in the locker room, you notice Chloé enter, and you rush to finish tightening your ponytail.

You observe her reflection coming your way in the tiny mirror on the metallic door of your blue locker.

"Here we go."

You can feel Chloé's disapproval while waiting for her words, and your mind races with fears and uncertainties.

"Girl, how often do I have to remind you about the importance of punctuality in this establishment?!" Chloé's voice is like ice seeping into your core, chilling you to the bone.

You feel a mix of panic and frustration, knowing that you have once again fallen short of Chloé's expectations; she is your most supportive person in the entire place.

You bite your lip nervously, trying to devise a plausible explanation for your delay. For the first time, you are glad the staff area of the Club is not as luxurious as the rest of the sparkling oasis venue.

It's a bit dark in there because there are only small windows below ground level, so it is impossible to notice how pale you are right now.

"Of all days, you had to choose today! Please stop being so reckless. There will be a time when I won't be able to stand up for you and help you out! You know I love you, girl, but Raphaël is going to give us so much shit if any of the guests or Abby mention the incident to him."

You feel a wave of self-doubt washing you over. This familiar sensation crept up whenever you faced Chloe's harsh criticisms; she's the best but a challenging and demanding boss.

She is at the top of the game, and Chloé works hard to maintain the Club's reputation and the best guest service in town.

"I-I'm sorry, Chloé," your voice stutters as you try to form an apology, your words coming out in a quiet, shaky breath.

You are still in a whirlwind of emotions. You did your best to keep a professional demeanor in front of Toto's presence and the rest of the guests.

But the entire incident was overwhelming, plus his aura looked like he commanded respect from people.

"At least, Mr. Wolff, laugh it off." Chloé gives you a soft and reassuring rub on the arm. "I had never seen you reach that level of redness, not even when you slipped on the deck of Ms. Basset's yacht with her birthday cake while we sang her happy birthday," Chloé starts laughing at the memory.

"Here is his clown to entertain him," you get slightly embarrassed now and joke back, but you wish.

"Talking of which," Chloé switches tones back to a boss again.

"What?" you feel your heart going wild again.

You struggle to contain your emotions as she delivers you the news with a funny expression.

You can't believe you have been assigned to Mr. Wolff's crew, YOU, to overlook and take care of his stay.

The mere thought of being in close proximity to him sends a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach as excitement at the prospect of working closely with Toto until you remember who you are. Then, apprehension fills you with the challenges that lay ahead.

"WHAT?!" you let out aloud.

"Yeah, I know, we know, we all wonder if Mr. Holst is pulling some survival experiment or wants to watch you do you and surprise us with one of your biggest hits, like the one you did today. Seriously, how do these things keep happening to you?! Child, I wonder." Chloé lets out with amusement.

"OH LORD,"

The Yacht Club's poolside bar glistens in the sun's warm embrace. A golden hue covers the luxurious setting and trendy chairs cradle members who lounge in pricey fashion wear and fancy swimsuits.

Laughs and chats overlap the sound of the waves against the shore. The entire pool area has the most beautiful view of Monaco's sea.

Spring is warm enough, and the freshwater of the ocean twinkles and sparks reflections, looking perfect for diving in or jet skiing.

The long pier there is closed right now as the Waterfront crew sets up all the equipment and performs safety checks before starting their water-based activities schedule for guests.

So, most members enjoy the state-of-the-art giant pool: swimming, sunbathing, drinking cocktails, or reading from their Kindles at the moment, making the bar busier.

Today, you are helping the mixologist and bartenders at the pool and terrace bar by restocking ingredients and tracking orders on the KDS.

Jesus, these people have crazy and quirky demands for their beverages and food!

Your feet start hurting from running from one location to another, to the kitchen and warehouse, and up and down the staff's outdoor stairs.

But all pain is gone as you watch Toto approach the bar, wearing an unbuttoned white linen t-shirt and yellow swimming short trunks. His chest and legs look damn good under the sun.

Toto's eyes linger on you as a flashback of a phone call he had with Mr. Holst, the Club Manager and owner, his long-time friend, comes to his mind.

"Miss Y/LN?" Toto says as he reads the list of staff names sent to his email for him to review before arriving at the Club.

"Oh, yes, that one you don't recognize, yeah, that's Y/N," Mr. Holst lets out a long sigh on the other end of the phone.

He doesn't sound excited at the mention of your name.

"She's the young college student who works for us, tirelessly, I must admit, to support her education. That's the only reason why I keep giving her chances."

"Put her on board my crew, then," Toto says while signing a cheque at his office, briefly holding his iPhone with his ear.

"Toto, I must warn you, she is inexperienced and really clumsy. I advise choosing someone else." the boss says.

"Add her, please," Toto commands what he pleases. He knows he can tip you well to help you with the bills.

"Okay, you are going to make me say I told you so," Mr. Holst jokes. "I love you here, my friend, but why the sudden rush to arrive? Shouldn't you be on cloud nine in Milano? You are giving us no time."

A small, sarcastic sigh escapes Toto's lips. "See you soon, my friend," his deep voice ends the call; there is no further explanation.

Your pulse quickens as you stand before Toto. You can smell his delicious cologne, mixed with the scent of saltwater and hints of citrus from the cocktails having served.

"It's a pleasure to see you again," he greets you; his words carry a subtle warmth. "I want a Daiquiri; take it to the in-pool chaise area. I will be there," he orders. "Oh, and I hope you don't throw some keys in it," he winks at you.

"You dislike rusty flavors, noticed, sir," you joke back, seizing the moment; a small smile forms on his lips, and you feel like you won a prize.

Oh, the view that greets you minutes later as you go to deliver him his drink is just too much for your poor heart.

Toto is sprawled on one of the pool's chaises, sunlight dancing on his skin. His fit body is covered in a sheen of sweat from the heat, his muscular physique in full glory for your eyes to enjoy, looking impossibly hot.

Under his sunglasses, he notices how your gaze goes all over him, his body getting you all distracted before he grabs his drink. "It's a good thing you didn't throw it all over me," he says, confusing you. "Watch your step."

He points with his head to your feet. You are standing at the very edge of the pool. One millimeter more, and you could have taken a good swim with him, embarrassing yourself as usual.

"Oh God," in that moment, you want to drown in the pool. "Sorry, I'm not, I..."

"Don't mind, you can leave," he says, and that's all.

There's no more Toto for you that day.

Is he always this cold?

You arrive home exhausted after today's work. The bar's closing always takes time, and it's late at night when you enter your aunt's apartment, where you two live.

She has already left for work.

She is a nurse and usually works the night shift, so you two see each other only occasionally, even if you share the same roof, just on weekends.

During the bus ride home, you made peace with the fact that you were going to bed with an empty stomach.

She left you a sticky yellow note on the fridge, letting you know she left food for you. God bless her heart! You felt too tired to cook.

As you microwave your dinner, Léo texts you.

Apparently, a kid threw up at the restaurant, and his father caused a big scene by calling the Chef and making him bring out the employee who cooked his son's meal to address him.

"You tried to poison my son! He screamed at me with a thick Australian accent. Can you believe the nerve?!"

Léo is 30 years old and works as a cook in the Yacht Club kitchen under a highly demanding Chef. He is as low-salary as you and middle class, too.

Because of that and many more things you share in common, you two were able to bond and become great friends.

Your aunt has always tried to play cupid with you two. She likes him and, well, you too, sort of.

He is a good person and good-looking, and according to everyone, he is also into you.

You would let him win your heart if he wasn't determined to move countries and leave as soon as he finishes studying his cuisine master's.

There is nothing that frightens you more in this world than the fear of someone leaving you because your parents did that to you.

Well, your dad was never present anyway.

And your mom was an irresponsible and immature mess with you. She even called you an "oopsie baby" to your face once while being exasperated with you, but it was the truth anyway.

She always blamed you for your father leaving and for stealing her youth, all that before she got sober and cleaned her act.

Now, she is the world's greatest mom to her kids, your stepbrothers. You don't see her much, and she still doesn't care much about you. Still, she calls you on your birthday and sends you money every once in a while.

God, you hate people who abandon and hurt.

So that's why you fear a relationship with Léo.

Paris is a goddamn expensive and challenging city to live and navigate, more so with a low income, so following him along is not within your reach.

But you really yearn for affection, a body to hold, for someone to touch you and make you feel special.

A boyfriend would be great.

As you lay in your bed, in the darkness, inside your small room, frustrated about not being able to fall asleep, you can't win the dirty thoughts running wild in your head as the night's warmth enters through the open window.

The light fabric curtains sway in the wind as the warm breeze caresses your thighs, and you succumb to the temptation you have been trying to resist for more than 20 minutes.

You spread your legs wider, feeling the soft cotton of your pajama bottoms rub against your sensitive spot. You start to slide a hand between your legs, with a finger teasing the skin under your panties, getting aroused.

You close your eyes and begin caressing your folds and picturing Toto's broad, sweaty, naked body approaching you at the bed.

You could almost hear his deep voice whispering, "You're so beautiful." His aftershave fills your nostrils as he leans in for a kiss.

His big hands gently part your legs, revealing your bare, moist pussy to him before placing himself on top of you in one of the villa's bedrooms.

You fantasize about being buried under his weight, lost in the sensation of Toto's fingers teasing and exploring your insides.

His soft, dirty whispers in your ear make you shiver, and you find yourself arching into his touch.

Back in real life, the sound of your shallow breaths fills the room as you dare to push an entire finger inside you all the way in while a soft moan escapes your lips as the scene in your head continues:

"Do you like that? Do you like me inside?" Toto asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, sir," you breathe, your hips bucking against his hand, willing and trembling.

As your finger moves faster, causing soaked sounds, your mind pictures Toto's intense gaze fixed on you; the thought of submitting to him, of being his completely, makes you quiver.

You feel the heat and wetness of your core and slide a second finger into you, eager for more.

The soft fabric of your bedsheets rubs your skin with the movement you produce on the mattress as you go all for it, reminding you of Toto's rough yet gentle grip.

"Tell me what you want," he says, working his hand faster between your legs, making you splash some drops of your wetness.

"I want you inside me," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper hidden below a moan.

You are all pink in the cheeks and sweaty, and a need to pee sensation starts building in you.

"And what do you think I should do about that?" he asks with a wicked grin.

"Please fuck me, sir; I need you inside me," you beg.

You close your eyes, lost in the dream, feeling as if he was entering you balls deep as you thrust your fingers as deep inside you as you can take them.

Your moans hitch as you start pulling them in and out of you as you picture Toto's hip movements till you reach climax, your body shuddering with pleasure, whetting your sheets all over.

The warmth spreads through your core and leaves you content and relaxed. You bite your lip, and you are now feeling embarrassed to face Toto tomorrow morning after this.

You clean yourself up and change your sheets, then fall asleep like a baby. Your best night of sleep in a long time.

OH, YEAH, SPRING BREAK IS OFFICIALLY HERE!

Which means no more classes, no more university, and no more annoying classmates. However, still lots of work to do at the Club.

You are all happy and peacefully cooking your breakfast with a lot of the extra time you have now on your hands.

Yesterday, Chloé authorized you to switch to the morning shift since college is on break.

She left you many tasks for the day in the digital agenda the Club gave you, which you are now reading as you enjoy your avocado toast.

You have to look extra lovely and put together this week because you will spend three entire days alongside Toto in the middle of the ocean since he got invited to Mr. Holst's extremely exclusive getaway at his gigantic and modern yacht that could easily fit a nation in there, along with other five old farts.

Two days later, you are getting ready to join the crew on board to help with everything Mr. Wolff needs and what the harbor crew, the dock master, the Chef, and the sailing master ask you to do.

It also means you must wear the sailing slut-ish uniforms, keep them pristine, look on point all the time, and avoid embarrassing yourself.

After brushing your teeth and doing your hair and makeup, you check yourself in your bedroom's oversized, full-length mirror, fixing every detail on your sailing uniform.

This one attracts much attention from people on the streets as you travel on the bus to work. Guys always send you dirty looks or discreetly stare you down.

Everyone finds it sexy, but not the Yacht's Controller, who always makes fun of it; he and his entire team nickname it "The Slut Navy Uniform."

It's a tight white long-sleeve button shirt with golden handcuffs and a v-neck cleavage, along with a French blue loosen kipper short tie and six golden buttons in the waist area to make it look smaller, with the Club's patched logo on the upper left side, and pair with a too short white knife pleated skirt that you always have to work around to avoid flashing the guests.

And to whose surprise, honestly?! Mr. Holst is quite sexist and still thinks his female staff must look pleasing to men's eyes.

You have a conflicted sentiment for him; sometimes, he is the nicest boss on earth, but he spans from that to a neurotic asshole.

He has a sweet, healthy, young-looking face for his age. Being a billionaire, having a plastic surgeon on call, and being chubby sure helps him with that, but he was definitely once good-looking.

His wife is way too hot for him, tho, and his three sons and heirs are also stunning but extremely posh, a bit deadpan, and out of touch.

They aren't that reachable, but you have a good relationship with them all.

You got hired to work there because your aunt was the nurse who helped him take care of his elderly mom for the last decade of her life.

The sun rises over the crystal-clear waters, reflecting on the luxurious yachts docked in the harbor as you walk along the pier, admiring the beautiful vessels.

"Here it comes, the Slut Navy!" the dockmaster yells at you from afar, greeting you and the other girls while joking around as there are no guests near.

He is a pretty quirky character, and you do a little dance in response, extending your arms and rocking your hips while reaching the edge of the pier, where he offers you a hand to board the yacht, along with the four other female coworkers.

You step onto the dock, feeling the cool wood beneath your feet, and take a deep breath to steady your nerves.

"Please don't break my ship," he jokes with you, double-checking on his list that you are part of today's crew. You are his favorite. That's why he is always teasing you.

"Girls, we have lots to prepare before guests arrive. I need you to split into teams. Let's go, people!" he stops fooling around and goes full business mode as he checks his Rolex Daytona.

On time as ever, the guests board the ship while you pour the cold iced tea into the glasses and help the Chef label which plate belongs to whom since one of the guests is allergic to cheese.

"SHIT!" you let out loud in the staff's kitchen, watching the clock on the wall. You were supposed to welcome Toto on the deck about 10 minutes ago. "Gotta go, guys."

You rush to place the last sticky notes with names frantically before exiting and climbing the metallic stairs to ground level fast to look for him.

You find Toto standing at the railing, his eyes scanning the water. You can't help but admire his tall, muscular frame and the way the sunlight glints off his hair.

There he is, the man you've been secretly fantasizing about, just a few feet away. With a sudden burst of courage, you clear your throat.

Toto turns towards you, his piercing eyes locking onto yours. You feel your cheeks heating up as you get closer.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Ah, there you are, kid. I thought you had fallen overboard already since there was no one to welcome me," he replies, his voice deep and resonant.

"That's why you were looking at the water, right?" You try to beat with humor the slight reprimand you got. "What can I offer you, sir?" you quickly ask.

The yacht rocks gently under your feet, waves lapping against the hull as he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. His touch sends shivers down your spine. "There, better," he says.

Your hair got a bit messed up from working like crazy. Seconds later, Mr. Holst reaches you two, which explains Toto's move.

Mr. Holst checks you out, expecting you to look perfect, as Ava, his stunning assistant and assigned crew lass, moves to stand beside you.

She is everything you want to achieve at work and excels at her job. Although Ava acts cold and diva to you and the other girls, feeling above you all.

"Hi," you greet the breathtaking young, fit woman, low and quickly, discreetly waving your hand at her.

She looks at you with the corner of her eyes. Her piercing blue eyes stay on you for a few seconds. Ava remains quiet and then moves her gaze back to the boss.

You wonder if the rumors of Mr. Holst and her are true; wait, that's misogynistic of you.

Well, you will keep trying to make friends with her. She has no friends here, and you don't like that. You can't cope with abandonment.

"Good morning, my friend. It's good to see you," Mr. Holst greets Toto warmly and squeezes his arm fondly. "We have some catching up to do," he notices Toto isn't holding a glass in his hand yet and addresses you. "Go bring him his beverage."

You were standing there like an idiot, staring at Toto shyly. "Oh, yes, sir, immediately."

"That wasn't necessary," Toto bumps Holst.

"I know, but she didn't get hired to act like a lampost," They both laugh.

"Is Y/N always that nervous and shy? Not the best traits working in hospitality, I must say." Toto asks.

"Really?! No, gosh, I wish she was. I would like her to contain herself more." Holst chuckles as some of your incidents come to his mind. "You want me to have a word with her?"

"No, no," Toto says.

Then, he is the one making you act like that?

The yacht's interior is even more luxurious than the outside, with plush carpets, gleaming marble surfaces, and intricate woodwork adorning every inch of space.

You wander through the spacious halls, attending to Toto's requests and admiring the paintings and sculptures lining the walls.

At the same time, you navigate the ship as you bring him the rye bread he requested to the long outdoor table on the bridge deck, where the brunch takes place. You face the mesmerizing view of Monaco's coastline as you step outside.

You place the plate in front of him and step back to your position behind him, at arm's reach, in case he needs something else.

You can't help but overhear the conversation and pay attention to his words.

"So, how is Irina? And your mom?" Mr. Holst addresses him, sitting at the head of the table and turning in Toto's way.

"Fine" is all Toto answers, deminors changing.

"Oh, okay, please, you don't say more," Mr. Holst jokes at Toto's lack of words; the Austrian chuckles.

The Chef then asks you by the open-ear bud headphones to bring out the sliced fruit dishes.

As all the staff heads back to the kitchen, Toto's eyes are drawn towards the action while the rest of the table doesn't bother paying attention.

When you are about to cross the massive slide door, a strong breeze comes your way. Toto gets to enjoy the view of your legs and ass on display as the wind pulls you a trick and raises your short skirt for a brief second before you rush to move your arm and hand to fix it.

He finds you so fascinating. The two of you couldn't be more opposite.

"Those are some cute lacey panties," he thinks.

As the day goes by without significant incidents, you start to feel more and more confident around Toto.

You stare at him for a while, driving the jet ski fast and wild on the waters, breaking waves and revolving, with a firm grip on the steering control and his delicious biceps flexing.

You are glad he has the life jacket on; otherwise, you be drooling. Then, the sailing master distracts you from him as he asks the guests to return on board.

The yacht will cruise to deeper waters so Mr. Holst can free dive.

You wait for Toto's arrival, holding the soft, high-quality towel while enjoying the view of a wet him up close as he climbs, dripping, on the swim platform.

He playfully sprinkles you with some drops with his hand as you come close to remove his life jacket.

"Hey!" you complain, smiling at him being an ass.

"Just a small taste of the fresh waters. I saw you looking over a lot, and I supposed you wanted to join me in the fun," he explains as he dries his hair with the towel, messing it up. "How do I look?" he jokes around. His wet hair is all up and wild, going in every direction.

You laugh and smile at the sight, "Like lighting is about to strike us."

He then combs his hair with his hand in a handsome man's move and drops the now-wet and heavy towel on your extended forearms. "I will be on the sun deck," he informs you and moves along.

Everything is going so well.

Toto sunbathes for a while and only asks you for one drink the entire time before he leaves to nap in his cabin.

So you move on to your other tasks as he isn't around but still keeping an eye on his call bell.

All until later, when you hear commotion on the main deck.

As you enter the living room area, you see Mr. Elrod, looking all red and swollen, sitting on one of the curved sofas as the aid crew offers him an EpiPen.

"Oh, no, no!" escapes your lips, watching the scene from afar as you feel the Chef and Mr. Holst's eyes set on you standing next to each other.

You sense Toto passing you around and standing by your side, observing the scene two steps behind you. The commotion woke him up.

Mr. Holst points you with his finger to the left, which means, "See you at my office now!"

Toto watches you release a loud sigh before moving your feet.

He waits for you outside the double wood doors of the office, sitting in the empty chair beside them, hearing the muffled screams from inside.

After a while, it quietens, and you finally emerge from inside, distressed and fast, trying to hold back tears.

You don't notice Toto.

You start heading to an empty place where you can cry in peace while avoiding being seen by guests.

Toto follows you all the way to the flying bridge, keeping a reasonable distance from you and trying to be discreet.

It's dark already, and the air feels chilly up there as the night fully sets.

He hears you weeping near the railing as you feel a jacket being placed on you.

"It's cold," Toto's deep voice says, making you jump.

You immediately wipe your tears, fix yourself, and turn to face him.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't notice you were here. I apologize."

God! Why did he have to be there and see you like this? You wanted to avoid getting into more trouble!

He notices your overly apologizing trait and feels slightly sorry for you. "I followed you here."

Your stupid mind takes another angle. "I'm so sorry if I didn't hear you calling me; how can I help you?"

He stares at you. "I meant it as I saw the entire thing with Mr. Elrod and then with Holst and followed you here from his office. He loses patience quickly but is a good-hearted man."

You nod, now getting it.

"Did you poison the allergic guy?" he asks, a small smile forming on his lips at the situation's absurdity as he listens to himself.

"Yes. I messed up the plate's labels all for being in a rush." You aren't in the mood to light things up with humor as you hold back tears again. "It won't happen again." Toto notices it; you gulp and look directly at him. "You don't have to worry about it, sir. I will pay extra care with your food and beverages."

"You think I'm here because I'm worried you'll get me poisoned?" his voice is serious.

You glance at him, confused and surprised.

What's going on?!

"Just talk to me. What's the reason for the tears?" Toto wipes the tear running down your cheek. "Without the sir bit, please, just Toto."

"Understood, si-r-Toto," you quickly answer. "Well, I-yeah, I feel like I'm not good at anything! I always screw things up. It doesn't matter how hard I try! It keeps happening to me, and they had enough of it."

"Did Holst threaten to fire you? I can always talk to him," he offers you, concerned.

"No, I'm getting a fine, a big one. I can barely afford it, but I can't lose this job either."

"And you told Holst that? That you needed the money? I don't know, maybe he could give you additional chores, or you could stay free for extra hours?"

"Yes, I tried, but he knows that's the one punishment that would make me not dare to commit the same mistake again. It's a bit cruel, but I'm used to it, I guess," you explain to him before you literally have a breakdown in front of him, much to Toto's surprise.

He holds you in his arms, trying to calm you down while a more violent and cold current hits both of your bodies.

You feel his thumb rubbing your back as you bury yourself in his warmness. His tender touch relaxes you so much that you start falling asleep, feeling exhausted.

He then notices you struggling to keep your eyes open and to remain on your feet as you lean more into him.

He lifts you from the ground with a firm grip and carries you around as you fall asleep on him.

He takes you downstairs through the empty hallways to his cabin, not knowing where yours is or how to get there, and softly places you in his bed.

He pulls your skirt in place, respecting you, even if he likes the idea of spooning you and feeling the lace of your cheeky panties with his fingers as his eyes go down your sound-asleep figure.

Toto hasn't fucked anyone in over five weeks, and the urge to do so starts building inside him.

But it's not proper to get involved with you.

The following day, he wakes up as the sun sneaks through the massive glass window of his bedroom, heating Toto's face; he then stretches and yawns before turning your way.

But you are already gone.

It's about 8 a.m., meaning breakfast is about to occur. Toto gets on his feet, feeling hungry already due to his CEO routine, usually waking up between 4:45 and 5:00 a.m. and eating breakfast early. But he has to remind himself he is on a break.

He spots you as soon as he arrives at the bridge deck.

You are wearing a uniform similar to yesterday's. A white button t-shirt with a v-neck, this time no tie, but today's blue A-line plated panel mini skirt with four golden buttons seemed in it looks so tight on your ass, which is anything but good for Toto's horniness as he feels the urge to pin you against the hallway wall and rub your asscheeks against his groin.

He notices the nervous energy among the staff members, hurrying to attend to his and the other guests' every need as they start to breakfast.

Your eyes dart at him in awe and fear after last night's events as you give out the glass bottles of sparkling water to everyone at the table.

Toto chuckles to himself, aware of the power he wields on you simply by his presence.

He looks at you with a cheeky grin and, on purpose, drops his fork.

The sound it makes when hitting the floor causes Mr. Holst to turn Toto's way and joke out loud. "It's alive! The fruit is alive!" he messes around.

"Y/N," Toto calls your name, a smirk already on his lips. "Would you mind picking it up for me?" he requests you in the sweetest tone in front of everyone.

"You little shit," you think, but you say, "Sure, sir," and struggle to get down to the floor in that fucking tight as hell mini skirt, trying to bend without your pussy greeting everyone.

He enjoys watching you try and struggle all the way down and is pretty surprised when you achieve it without revealing yourself.

"Let me get you a new one, SIR," you emphasize the last word while looking at him with murderous eyes as he laughs under his breath.

Once you are back and have handed him his new fork so he can resume enjoying his fruit, Toto grabs a strawberry with it and gets it in his mouth.

As soon as the fork makes contact with his lips, Toto feels them burning violently.

He turns your way, eyes wide open, and since you are just two steps behind him, you come closer to mutter near his ear, "Oopsie, I must have dropped it in the wasabi sauce."

After a long chat with the other guests about business, Toto excuses himself to get a shower.

He dismisses you and gifts you some free time before they dock in Eze Village.

He asks you to go get him in his room when they arrive.

Toto steps into the steaming water, letting it cascade over his muscular body. He closes his eyes, trying to clear his mind of the sudden life crisis that brought him here.

As he soaps up his body, he can't help but reach between his legs and begin to stroke his growing erection.

He could be fucking anyone instead of jerking himself off in the shower. After all, he is a handsome billionaire who can afford life's finest things but is stranded here with few options.

A slight smirk forms at the corner of his mouth as he thinks you would probably be more than happy to join and help him with this as he runs his hands over his well-defined abs and chest.

He pulls all of his strength not to call you in.

Instead, he focuses on pulling himself harder, faster, and more intensely as he gets lost in the moment.

"Ahh" he moans, arching his back as he feels the familiar tightening in his groin. His cock is as hard and curved as possible and bounces slightly with each move.

After minutes of going at it, he hears the soft and muffled knocks on the door.

It must be you, as he instructed you, obedient girl! He would reward you for good behavior if you were in there with him.

He rushes to pleasure himself, or otherwise, if he stops and steps out, after opening that door, he is going to fuck you right against it, not being able to contain himself.

His grip tightens on his shaft. He can feel the familiar tightness building in his balls, warning him of his impending release.

As he approaches his climax, he lets out a long, intense groan, his fingers founding the way on his throbbing cock.

With a deep breath, he allows himself to cum, feeling the warmth spreading through his body.

As his last drops of cum splash against the glass, Toto then opens his eyes, catching his breath, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

He cleans himself before quickly stepping out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist while he hears you knocking again.

He opens the door for you, still undressed, wet hair dripping on his bare chest.

You can't help but look surprised and get a notorious blush, trying to stop your eyes from going all over him.

"I'll be there in a minute, kid," he says, letting you peek at him before closing the door to your face.

Is this man sending you mixed signals, or are you going crazy?!

Much to his surprise, you remain on board the yacht doing other chores instead of joining him at Eze Village.

Ava stays in charge of Toto and Mr. Holst as they tour the small village; their first stop is the cigar store.

As they exit the shop after spending a couple of hundred, Toto notices the nearby street where many men wander around, going up or down a broad stone stair to a redwood door.

At 2:00 p.m., that place looks already buzzing, bright daylight still on the streets.

"That strip club is unbelievable," Holst whispers near his ear, noticing Toto's eyes wandering there. "It's pretty hidden and offers lots of privacy. That's why it's so popular amongst the elites, plus the girls in there, woaf." Holst throws a kiss in the air. "We should stop by after lunch, you know, as our dessert." Holst bumps him, and Toto nods, agreeing.

He very much needs it.

Everyone is back in the yacht at the time set. The night starry sky looks beautiful on board, and the waters are calm, but the crew isn't.

The guests look bored and a bit pissed off of waiting for Wolff and Holst; they are nowhere to be seen.

"Should we go look for them?" you ask, concerned for his wellbeing, you mean, their wellbeing.

"No one else gets off here," the sailing master declares after sending two male crew members after establishing contact with Ava; after four tries, she finally picks up the signal.

"We are on our way back," she updates him on the radio, sounding exasperated and a bit emotional. "Also, send Hob to receive us at the platform, but make it tactful."

Everyone in the crew looks at each other with a "Did something happen?" expression as they are all gathered around the radio in the small lobby of the crew's cabins.

"Walk," Hob tells you as he passes you by. Moving fast, you follow him without questioning much.

As you two reach the platform, you see Arvin and Hob teaming up to carry a totally hammered and passed-out Mr. Holst to get him to his suite.

And Carlo helping out a drunk but still awake Toto to walk him to his room, the Austrian hanging from his shoulder to help his balance.

Carlo signals you with his hand to move your ass to Toto's cabin.

"Pour him a tall glass of water," he asks you as he lowers Toto on his bed. "Stay in here if he needs something else or throws up."

"Puff, I'm fine!" Toto says, making fun of the large man as he tries to remove his shoes but fails completely.

Carlo exits the room and closes the door behind him, leaving you two alone.

"Do you need help with those?" you offer Toto, a bit amused. He looks way less intimidating when drunk.

He shakes his head way too much. Finally, he gets them out with much force, and one bounces around the carpet floor.

Then he attempts to unbutton his shirt. You watch him struggle with that until he gets exasperated, unable to coordinate his hand movements, and wants to sleep now.

"Would you mind?!" he looks pissed off at you as if it was a duty you were supposed to do.

You don't take it wrong and gladly reach out to help him get undressed.

Toto is sitting at the end of the bed. You stand between his slightly open legs, placing yourself between his knee. As you undo his shirt, he looks up at you, looking straight at your eyes, chin up.

Jesus! That smell! Why he smells like whore?

Which turns out to be a good thing; otherwise, you would have to resist the urge to throw yourself at him.

As you unbutton the remaining two lower ones, he says, "I picked the one who looked like you," and you have no idea what he is referring to.

He manages to take his pants off; good thing! You would have lost it! And then Toto drops himself face down on the mattress, quickly falling asleep in his trousers.

You place a pillow under his head and involuntarily comb his hair with your hand.

He wakes up to the vision of you sleeping all curled up in the armchair you dragged near his bed; a weird feeling washes him over before he rushes to pee.

Once back, he falls asleep again, and no human force will wake him up.

After tidying up the room and grabbing Toto's clothes from the floor to the laundry, you leave a hungover kit and a new glass of water on his bedside table before leaving.

Your list of things to do today is nuts.

That same morning, the Chef sends you to get more flour sacks.

When you open the big, heavy, metallic pantry door, you unexpectedly find Ava crying inside there under the bright light bulb.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly add. Ava immediately turns around and pretends she's looking for something, reading the labels on the cans before her.

You know a crying girl spot when you see it; unfortunately, you have used almost all of them.

"Are you okay?" you ask her, concerned.

"Yes, it's all good. I was looking for this!" Ava answers in her usual tone, picking up a random can.

"The anchovies got you emotional? Got it! I also got emotional in here once for a jar of mayo, and also when choosing which broom to use in the broom closet, and while folding napkins in the linen closet. I get it, girl." You confess to her all the places where you have cried in the yacht due to circumstances.

You make her smile a bit. "No, but seriously, are you okay?!" You ask and try again, sensing she opens up a bit.

Much to your surprise, she starts telling you: "I can't believe he did this to us!" in between cries. "This was supposed to be our gateway trip, not this!"

She sounds hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm not sure about what or who. Still, fuck them for hurting you!" you reassure her, trying to be empathic and supportive while also trying to figure it out.

"He and Wolff spent the entire afternoon inside that fucking strip club! Getting God knows what! I wasn't able to go inside; that stupid no women-allowed policy, you know, fuck them! And that fucking security guy even threw me out of the street, he made me leave, and I had to wait for them FOR HOURS!" now her sadness was starting to become anger.

"God! I looked like an idiot sitting for hours in that cafe at the corner, forced to ask for food or drinks every once in a while until I saw them pass by through the windows, looking like a mess, barely able to walk and holding rolls of euros in their hands! That's when I sent the signal!"

WAIT A MINUTE! Toto went to the strip club?! You feel a sting of pain and jealousy. Oh, that was the smell! You feel pissed off, with no right howsoever.

WAIT. Ava is referring to Mr. Holst?! Fuck!

Toto looks very comfy in one of the bulky sofas in the living room. This time, he is enjoying the inside of the yacht, staying away from the sun like a vampire, with his sunglasses on and a stern expression; his head must hurt.

You notice Toto's nasty hickeys on his neck in broad daylight as you approach to check on him, the ones that make your stomach revolve in jealousy as if you had the right to feel mad at him.

"I heard there are good natural remedies for hickeys. Maybe we have the ingredients on board. Would you like me to bring you one, sir?" you can't contain yourself.

He pays attention to your every expression. "Just Toto, remember? When it's just the two of us. And, yes, bring it."

You return with a peppermint oil mini jar on your hands. Toto stays there staring at you without reaching his hand.

What is he expecting?! For you to rub it on his neck?!" Yeah, you're mad.

Finally, he grabs it.

"Let me know if you need something else for other regions," he detects your displeased undertones.

"That's all. I don't need anything else for any other areas. Nothing happened in any other area," Toto hints to you.

"Understood, sir" you willinly ignore him, still giving him shit.

"Kid, are you allowed to go to Holst suite? Tell him if he will face me at the pool table or if he chickens out." Toto stands up and reaches you closer, his chest a centimeter away. Then he pats your head. "Be a nice pet, little one."

You stare, thirsting at his lips. Also, you want to strangle him! Also, he wants to strangle you, but in a different way.

As you are about to knock on Mr. Holst's suite's massive entrance door, you hear Ava's muffled, intense moans coming from inside while she groans to him to give her his dick harder.

Yeah... maybe later.

Damn, he must be fucking the "please, forgive me" out of her! Why is Toto not doing the same?!

You laugh at the thought.

"Mr. Holst isn't available right now," you inform him upon your return.

"Chicken!" Toto says, pouting.

More like "Cheater," you think. That guy has a wife and kids.

Toto ends up playing pool with two of the other male guests at the man cave, nicknamed "The Captain's Delight."

The room has rich, dark wood paneling and sleek silver accents. It smells of fine leather and cigars. At the center of the place sits a gorgeous pool table crafted from the finest materials, with an emerald green top and balls made from solid, gleaming ivory.

You call the bartender in and start helping him serve the drinks for Toto, Stellan, and Bram.

Stellan's eyes gleam with confidence and arrogance as he sips his drink and makes a ball hit the pocket with a loud crash.

Toto is a bit of a show-off, always trying to prove himself as the best player.

And Bram isn't much into the game as he can't help but steal glances at you, his eyes lingering on your curves every time he chalks up his cue, acting anything but discreet.

The bidding starts slow, but the stakes grow higher as the game heats up. The men raise their bets, and their voices grow louder and more aggressive as they argue over who made the best shot.

Bram eyes get bloodshot from too much drinking, and his speech gets slurred as the game progresses. Their competitive spirits fueling the intensity of the round.

Bram's eyes continue to go all over you, from your legs to your ass, where he keeps staring for more than you like and at your breasts every time he addresses you.

On any occasion you pass by near him, you hear him throw a dirty innuendo whisper really low, only for you to listen to it, which makes your skin crawl.

When he misses a hit, he gets angry and throws a fit.

As he remains out of the game, he asks you for a refill of his drink. As soon as you are back, he pulls you by the waist to sit you right next to him, forcing his hand behind you, making you feel really uneasy.

Toto notices it and quickly approaches you, sitting right by your side, with no inch of space between you, causing the other man to slide away casually.

Bram returns to the game as they start a new final round; another "all-in" bid is placed.

Stellan takes the price, being the best player of the night, much to the dislike of his peers.

Everyone calls it a night. But you stay in, tidying everything up and helping the bartender clean the bar.

He wishes you a good night, and you turn off the lights and exit the room minutes later. It's almost 3 a.m.

As you leave the man cave into the long, empty hallway that leads to the stairs, you notice from the corners of your eyes that Bram is leaning against the wall there, waiting for you.

You quicken your pace, but Bram follows you, his eyes fixed on you. "Hey, babe," he slurs, his voice growing louder. "You're really something special."

You try to ignore him, but Bram continues, his words getting more and more aggressive. "Come on, babe. Let's get you a drink. I have Tequila Ley in my cabin and have a great idea for a game."

But you are having none of it. You keep moving. The stairs aren't that far away now, but the hallways are empty and dark, making you feel nervous, as Bram is relentless.

As you reach the base of the stairs, he goes for your arm, feeling you are slipping away. He spins you around to face him, pushing you against the railing, which makes a loud sound.

He places his hands on your legs and rubs them up, starting to pull your skirt up as he slides them in while you panic, not knowing how to react.

"I heard a collision sound. All good?" a deep voice booms above you.

Bram looks up to see Toto's imposing figure with an enraged face and stabbing eyes, and he immediately yanks away from you.

You take advantage of the distraction to pull free and hurry away up the stairs to Toto. He watches Bram leave, heading back in the direction you were coming.

"Are you okay?" he asks you.

You nod, looking relieved. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for intervening."

Toto nods. "I noticed him creeping on you all night long; I was waiting for you in case he tried something stupid. I should have stayed in the hallway by the door and avoided you this."

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You had previously dealt with similar situations, but this one went too far.

"Why don't we get some fresh air? You look like you could use it." Toto suggests, and both think of the same place to go: the flying bridge.

"Are you really okay?" Toto asks with concern etched on his face as he notices your eyes lost in the sea.

You are sitting at the edge of the wooden floor, shoulder to shoulder, with your legs hanging in the air and leaning on the railing as you admire the moon's glow reflecting on the waters.

Even with that beautiful landscape, you can't shake the memory of that creepy guy harassing you earlier.

Thank goodness Toto noticed how the man leered at you, making those crude comments under his breath.

God knows what could have happened if he hadn't stopped it before it went too far!

The incident left you with an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

"You know, if you want to explain to me what hap...," Toto starts saying, but his voice trails off as he looks into your eyes and sees the vulnerability.

He knows that he should keep things professional between you, but there is something about you that he can't resist.

He places his hand on top of yours, and the warmth of Toto's hand takes you out of your trance.

He can't help but lean in closer, your heart racing as you see him approach to rest his temple on yours.

You lean into the touch and wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight, making you feel safe and protected.

Finally, you can't take it anymore and whisper: "I don't know what's happening between us, but I can't resist you anymore." you smile, your cheeks flushed, fresh tears drying. "But I want you, Toto," you confess.

He looks at you in total silence for what feels like an eternity, just looking at your eyes.

Before your lips meet in a tender, soft kiss that sends waves of electricity through your body, before you move your hands around Toto's neck, pulling yourself closer to his body as the kiss deepens.

The kiss grows hungrily, and you keep rubbing yourself against him until he wraps you around his waist and lifts you.

He leads you to his cabin, his footsteps echoing in the quiet space. As he closes the door behind you, a wave of nervous anticipation washes over you.

He looks straight at you, his eyes searching for any sign of hesitation. You look back at him, your gaze unflinching, and he knows then that you are ready before lowering you into his bed.

You glimpse at the bulge on his pants as he moves to place himself on top of you, parting your legs; you pull him closer once more, his lips finding yours as he undoes the buttons on your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin.

You close your eyes, savoring his gentle touch, feeling his warmth and hardness.

He trails a line of kisses from your collarbone to your stomach, taking his time to explore every inch of you as his hands trace the curves of your body; slowly, he slides your skirt off and tosses it aside.

He leans in and places a soft kiss on your inner thighs, eliciting a gasp from you; he quickly removes his pants, not being able to contain his erection inside them anymore.

You stare at his dick shaft to the side, and it makes you get wetter with arousal.

Your breath hitches as Toto unclasps your bra, revealing your breasts and teasing your nipples with his fingertips until they harden under his touch.

His mind is whirling with desire for the beautiful young woman you are. He returns to his position between your legs and starts rocking his hips in circles, rubbing his erection on you.

You grab his ass and squeeze it, pulling him closer. "Toto..." you whisper, arching towards him. His tongue teases your earlobe, making you shiver.

"Do you really want this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your answer comes in the form of a moan as you lean into him, your hands finding their way to his chest. "I've wanted this for days."

He then removes his trousers and, in a single move, pulls down your soaked panties before penetrating you slowly, feeling your body tense up at first but then slowly relax into him.

Your breaths become synchronized as you both sway together. Your moans fill the cabin, echoing off the wood-paneled walls as you enjoy his length inside you.

The feeling of being taken so roughly sends waves of ecstasy through your body. Toto runs his fingers through your hair, pulling it.

With each thrust, you can feel yourself falling deeper in love with Toto. For him, you taste sweet and innocent, yet wild and untamed at the same time.

He thrusts balls deep into you, taking you completely. Your bodies clasping together in a rhythm. Sweat dripping down as you desperately fuck each other. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, driving him crazy.

After a while of intense fucking, with a couple of final hits, you feel an orgasm releasing from you as you come all over his dick. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking and his cock throbbing inside you.

Minutes later, Toto quickly pulls out in a fast move, removes his condom, and lets his cum spill over you.

You gasp in surprise but then moan as the warmth spreads across your sensitive skin.

He leans down and kisses you passionately, your tongues dancing together in the aftermath of intense lovemaking. You look completely satisfied.

"That was amazing," he whispers against your lips. You nestle closer to him, your breathing still ragged.

"No one has made me feel like this before," you murmur, tracing the head of his cock with your fingertips, caressing with your hand all over his chest, then kissing him for a while, tongues dancing, moist lips rubbing.

Then, you both get clean and return to bed, where you are about to spend the rest of the night embracing.

As you are comfortably wrapped naked in his arms while he tenderly runs his fingers on your lower back, Toto tells you: "I have been restraining myself from having you for days.

"Why?" curiosity is filling you.

"Because it seemed inappropriate, plus we couldn't be more different, starting for our ages. I could be your dad!"

"Daddy..." you sigh as you look straight into his eyes, moving your gaze away from his bare chest.

"Stop it," he lets out in a dangerously low voice.

"What? It turns you on? I wouldn't mind another round, daddy," You moan out the last word, being an ass and teasing him. "My shift starts in about 2 hours."

Suddenly, you feel his weight all over you as he, in a fast move, places on top of you, and you laugh. He starts kissing your neck and heading all the way down, biting every inch of your skin.

You release many "daddies" out as he devours your pussy and fucks you hard till the sun comes out. To be continued... < Masterlist | Next chapter >

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defectivevillain · 2 months ago

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guarded by the shadows

pairing: Michael Myers/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

reader's race & gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.

No one wants a murder house, even when it’s absurdly cheap. No one except you, it seems.

In which you buy the Myers house.

word count: 1.7k | ao3 version

warnings: carbon monoxide poisoning, hospitals and IVs, unconsciousness

You knew what you were getting into when you purchased the Myers house in Haddonfield. It had been something of a ghost house for years, lying neglected and practically abandoned despite the countless realtors who attempted to sell it. Supposedly, many of their efforts were waylaid by Dr. Samuel Loomis—who has a bad habit of barging in and dissuading interested parties from buying it. He did the same thing to you: storming into the house just after your realtor gave you a tour, warning you that Michael Myers would likely return to his childhood home.

His little display had scared you for a second, sure. But you weren’t going to let that frighten you off of the one property you could actually afford. Together, the realtor and you managed to get the man to leave—albeit with a lot of grumbling and muttering. Then, the two of you turned to each other and exchanged relieved looks. A few hours later, you were standing in front of the property with the keys in hand and a nervous smile on your face.

Maybe it was a little optimistic of you, though, to buy the house so fast. Your moving process has been somewhat impeded by the basic repairs needed across the space: the cracked toilet, freezing cold water from the shower, broken stove, and shattered windows all desperately need attention. In your scramble to fix the seemingly endless amount of things that don’t work in the house, you forget to acknowledge one appliance: the carbon monoxide detector. The thought completely slips your mind, as you attempt to make your new home more livable and less imposing. You even have to get the garage door painted over multiple times—after a few rebellious kids spray paint��“MURDERER” and other flattering messages all over it.

Fortunately, as time passes, you slowly tackle each of these projects. It’s a bit harder than you expected to get plumbers and electricians to actually agree to enter your home, with its reputation. But you finally find some brave (or just uncaring) ones and, before long, you have functioning appliances.

Even so, there are still a few eccentricities to the house. There’s a small darkened red-brown stain in one of the rooms—smeared as if someone tried to clean it up. You resolutely convince yourself it isn’t blood, even though you know deep-down it must be. The floorboards are very creaky; sometimes, the frames on the walls will shake and clatter in impatience; and you occasionally lose track of items you put down, as if someone is sneaking in and taking things. Although these happenings sometimes scare you, you manage to dismiss them as nothing more than coincidences. You’re a bit too preoccupied with making a living for yourself to put much thought into insignificant observations.

The main problem you’ve encountered at this point, after weeks of living in the house, is the unstable temperature. The furnace is kind of shitty and the air conditioning is a complete joke. Even after you get these things fixed, though, you start to notice that you still feel a bit… off. At first, you write it off as some sort of seasonal allergy. But allergy medicine doesn’t resolve the issue, and you’re soon fighting off pounding headaches every day. You’re beginning to suspect that you came down with some sort of bug. Eventually, it gets to the point where you have to leave work early and return home to rest.

When you wake up the next morning, you find that you’re particularly weak and exhausted. You feel as if you’re trying to walk through quicksand. Frowning, you push yourself out of bed and attempt to walk out to the living room—only to collide with the nearby wall as your balance nearly gives out. You press a shaking hand to your forehead, idly wondering if you could have a fever. The cool sensation—combined with the fact that you took your temperature last night, only for it to be normal—convinces you that it can’t be a fever. Maybe you have some sort of head cold. That would certainly explain your loss of equilibrium and dizziness.

You manage to get yourself back to a standing position and take slow steps out into the living room. It’s a very short distance—maybe five steps or so—but your chest is burning from the exertion. Why does everything look so blurry? You blink dazedly and attempt to get to the couch, only for your legs to crumple under you.

You fall to the ground like a puppet with broken strings, feeling like a spectator to your own movements as your vision twists around and you hear a dull thud. A harsh pain reverberates throughout your temple. You think you’re shaking. Your chest still hurts; and the aching in your temple has spread down to your cheekbones and across your face. Your eyes slip shut and you slip into a bleary haze.

You’re not sure how long you’re lying there before you manage to pry your eyes back open. But the effort is really no use—as you’re too weak to even move. Your headache is so strong that you feel the urge to throw up. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see a flicker of movement. A shadow passes across your vision and suddenly, there’s someone leaning over you.

Even in your fatigued and confused state, you’re able to recognize them. Michael Myers is leaning over you, his mask secured over his face. A shiver rolls down your spine and you’re overtaken with fear. It seems Dr. Loomis was right. Michael did return to the house. Does he have something to do with this?

All these thoughts and more run through your head, sending a renewed wave of adrenaline through you. You try to push yourself up and crawl away, but your body isn’t obeying any of your commands. A relentless drowsiness is pushing you back to the floor, alongside a dizzying spiral that makes your vision hazy and convoluted. Michael’s blurred head tilts. There’s a horrid ringing in your ears as you make one final attempt to move. A minute twitch of your fingers is the best you can manage, before you’re fading back into unconsciousness.

You wake to the feeling of something digging into the skin of your arm. Wincing, you weakly reach out with your other arm and feel around for the intrusion, finding an object attached to your arm. You attempt to pull it off, but there’s a calm voice chiding you and pushing your inquiring hand away. Blinking away tears at the blinding fluorescent lighting above, you slowly take in the environment around you and come to an easy conclusion: you’re in the hospital. The pain in your arm is from the IV; the voice from before was your nurse.

The nurse hands you a glass of water and you eagerly take a few sips, before they place it on the table at your bedside. You cough to clear your throat, recognizing a lingering pain in your chest. “What happened?” You remember to ask.

“Carbon monoxide poisoning,” the nurse responds with a sympathetic grimace. Damn it—that was what you had forgotten to do. You never replaced the carbon monoxide detectors in the house. “One of your neighbors found you unconscious on your front lawn.”

The front lawn? Your memories of that night are hazy and hard to reach, but after a few minutes of concentrated effort, you recall that you had collapsed in your living room. You frown. You certainly wouldn’t have possessed enough strength to make it out of your home and onto the front yard. How did you get outside?

Before you can ponder the question any longer, the nurse is asking you a series of questions and evaluating your symptoms. When they’re finally finished, they’re about to leave—before they pause in the doorway and head back into the room, a contemplative expression on their face. “It’s a miracle you made it outside.” They say candidly. You blink at them. “Do you remember leaving the house?” The nurse hums.

“No,” you answer, a frown rising on your face. A miracle. You resist the urge to huff in amusement. You can’t necessarily say that succumbing to carbon monoxide poisoning was miraculous. And your supposed “escape” from your home is more perplexing than anything else. “I think I passed out in the living room.” You continue.

A strange expression passes over the nurse’s face. “Oh,” they remark quietly, suddenly looking concerned. They shake their head as if to clear their thoughts. “Well, it’s a good thing your roommate found you!” There’s a somewhat forced cheeriness to their voice. But that observation fades to the back of your mind, when you comprehend what they’ve just said.

“I don’t have a roommate.” You’ve lived alone for as long as you’ve stayed in that house. But the nurse’s remark does jog your memory, reminding you of the one presence who made himself known that night: Michael Myers. Goosebumps rise along your skin. The nurse seems to notice and pulls the blanket over you, which does little to quell your mounting fear.

Then they seem to process your remark, and a somewhat patronizing smile rises on their lips. “Sounds like you have a guardian angel, then.” They don’t seem to believe you. But before you can ask any more questions, the nurse exits, leaving you to your growing confusion.

Just what happened? You suspect someone saved you… but who? And why? You continue to contemplate these questions as you recover in the hospital; after a few days, you’re discharged from the hospital. You return home to find a note on your front door, wishing you a quick recovery and saying that the property has been aired out and cleared of carbon monoxide. A small smile rises on your lips and you remind yourself to thank your neighbor.

The house is a bit brisk and cold, evidently thanks to the windows being open for so long. Otherwise, it looks entirely the same as you left it. Relief courses through you as you explore the house, double-checking that nothing looks out of place. You’re about to relax when your eyes find something on the kitchen counter: boxes of new carbon monoxide detectors. And through the nearby window, you catch a glimpse of a masked figure between the trees, watching you.

A disbelieving, frightened laugh crawls its way from your lips.

here's some incredible fanart by @manulodo ! 🖤

thanks for reading! <3

check out my other works, sorted by fandom.

general taglist: @its-ares @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @kingkoku @the-ultimate-librarian @gayaristocrat

friendly reminder that i don't give permission for my writing to be shared to other sites, stolen, copied, translated, or used in any way. thanks!

#defectivevillain #spooktober #halloween #halloween movies #Michael myers #Michael Myers x reader #Michael Myers x gn reader #Michael Myers x transmasc reader #male reader #gn reader #transmasc reader #gotta get to all my people #lol

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yannaryartside · 12 days ago

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A REVIEW OF SYDNEY'S JOURNEY INSIDE SYDCARMY

As a person who profoundly yearns for sydcarmy, I would like to say…

Syd can love Carmy despite everything

But she cannot stay with him despite everything.

Not despite the problems in their relationship, not despite his inability to resolve his issues. And more importantly, not despite her own mental health, happiness, and dreams.

this is kind of an open letter to the writers of this show...because I have concerns of how they will rap this up, particularly for Sydney. It all got worse because of that Mattew interview.

PART 1:THE LOVE IN THE STRUGGLE

I understand what the show is doing with Carmy and Syd, showing the reality of loving someone with mental illness and (metaphorically) loving someone recovering from addiction. The struggle to do right by each other, coming from both sides, is excruciating and frustrating to watch, but it is beautiful (to a certain extent).

They are also playing into all of Carmy’s insecurities of never being good enough even when he tries his best. So what better way to heal that than showing Carmy that he was good enough for Sydney to love him despite him failing her (as a partner and friend). The love triangle thing is salt to injury until Carmy decides to stop ignoring all the ways Syd affects him. But that has to be in unison with him leaving behind all his bad coping mechanisms: the work addiction, the self-sabotage, and a toxic relationship.

I get it. But you have to show the other side of the coin. How can you love someone despite everything (despite how they hurt themselves and you) and still decide to do what’s right for you? To keep your side of the street clean, as the character in the anonymous meeting said.

Syd has been a punching bag (emotionally) for the majority of her screen time. Even her trying to discover her culinary voice in s2 was framed in the context of Carmy’s abandonment. I was pissed off after s2, but now I am baffled and angry.

Some time ago, I interacted in this fandom with someone who said Syd would be a prop for Carmen's growth; in all fairness, I think they meant a plot device. A character whose sole purpose in the narrative is to show the main character “the right way” (with a romantic relationship or not), like Gandalf or something. A character is never explored in depth and, therefore, absent of agency besides the elements of the character that favor the path of the main character.

I am not saying every element of Sydney's character has been crafted to favor Carmen. But the show has shown some intent of never giving her any agency besides sticking with these people in this broken system because she loves them all, Carmy especially.

I understand why Syd would choose to stay; she has found a place where she belongs, I just wish she didn't have to sacrifice a good opportunity to achieve her own creative vision, to have more financial security, and even her heart (now broken) in order stay at the Bear. Because that is the narrative, the show is feeding you. Do you want me to applaud her for being loyal despite letting go of all her dreams and sitting by a man who has rejected her in multiple ways just so she can prove she is the one? No, respectfully, fuck you.

If Syd is in love with Carmy despite everything, that's fine; that's just life, and you can do nothing about it. If she lets go of her chances to pursue her dreams waiting for him, that's on her.

Not to mention, this show crafted this character in a particular way. She is insecure about her talents, and despite having great people skills and exemplary leadership, she doesn't believe she can manage it all on her own, walking to the sound of her own drum and her will. I need that for her. That growth, just because it really feels like they have been building up to it. The character that never saw themselves in a leadership position but by doing it discover they are meant for it.

CALL YOUR HERO BY IT'S NAME

I also need her to have credit for everything, right there on the screen: the recognition, the opportunities, the adventure, and the self-exploration, the love.

Why are we trying to make peace with the fact that Sydcarmy may be open-ended? and (in that same context) that Syd's culinary success could also be open-ended, or just a brief plot point in this show that nominated Ayo as a "lead" in award shows?

Regardless of creative decisions, even if you want to make a show solely about closing bad chapters before opening the good ones, it could be done better. This is not a shipping or a fandom thing.

Sydney gets to be the peace (the real one), but that will never be acknowledged by the other characters and only firefly by the man she has loved for all the show's runtime? Why is it that the audience cannot explore/witness Carmy's desire for her? To see him dream of her and call her his actual peace? To pursue her and trying to be better, especially for her? Why does that only get to be a glimpse in your narrative? You already decided that was what you wanted for your main character, you could at least tell your audience that's what you want.

They spend a lot of time and energy deceiving us, but they have to put in (if not time) an equal amount of effort to show why Sydney is the right choice.

Also, why is that only the black woman, the one whose culinary journey we don't follow and explore? Particularly in her getting credit for it and feeling good about her chosen profession? Marcus got to go to Copenhagen, Ebra and Tina got culinary school, and the shows have followed them in their journey to gain confidence in this craft. We got a whole episode of Carmy's journey (and Luca's).

You have four young chefs that we follow so we can get a journey inside the paths in this industry: Luca, Carmy, Syd, and Marcus. Three of these young chef characters (the three men) had the opportunity to travel and have mentors who valued them and recognized their potential; what about Syd?

This point keeps pissing me off. When Matty Matheson decided to open his mouth to say, "Sydney doesn't have professional training," it hurt extra because I am sure some people were watching who, even if they watched the show, may doubt that he was incorrect.

Syd is the only restaurant member who actually went to culinary school. The fucking CIA. The only acknowledgment the audience has of her culinary experience is that line of dialogue of Carmy being impressed by her resume in the fucking pilot. Besides that, the only element of her journey being brought up in dialogue constantly through the seasons is Sheridan Road, her most recent and painful professional failure. It also doesn't look good that Syd is the only one not " European trained" of the young chefs and is precisely the one whose recipes and creations are never properly acknowledged or explored.

The worst part of all this is that Sydney is the only woman in the main cast whose childhood dream was cooking professionaly. Tina, Marcus, and Luca discover this passion later in life, you could even say Carmy didn't dream of fine dining before Michael cast him out of the sandwich shop. But Sydney likely grows up dreaming of this as the only daughter of a single father (who is likely a first-generation American), a girl who lost her mother quite young; therefore, she is conscious about time and how she decides to use it.

So, dear Bear writers, please let Sydney win; at this point, I am begging you. Out of dignity and craftsmanship, if I cannot ask for more. You may resolve this in s4, or whatever time you are thinking for this. Let me inside her heart, her deep motives, to find her courage, let her shine. Follow her. She will love Carmy still, and if Carmy comes from her, let her be his.

#thank your for reading my venting and ramblings #sydcarmy #the bear #sydney adamu #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear meta #carmy x sydney #carmy the bear #sydney x carmy #anti claire bear

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wannabe-cartoonist-blog · 7 months ago

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Last Game hair style fixes, in order of who needed it most.

I've never liked the canon hair styles in Last Game. They're either hideous, or just simply don't fit the characters/style of the main series. I get its a (mostly different) art department and meant to age the characters up, but most of the time, they simply just look off-model to me. I know I'm not the only one who's got issues with the hairstyles in this movie too, so I did my best to fix them up and give them styles that I personally think suite them. Originals below cut as well as my explanations! Important to note, these are my preferences/headcanons for them so take everything I'm about to say with a grain of salt.

**Akashi isn't here, because believe it or not, I actually think his hair looks the best out of everyone in LG.

I wouldn't change it. I like to draw him with neater hair/his bangs pushed out of his face when I age him up, but for the summer after the Winter Cup - when LG takes place - the canon hair is exactly the sort of style I think he would/should have. I like the allegory that the rough chop is something he did when his mental health wasn't good, so now as his mental scars heal, it's growing back out. ❤️

Midorima

A neater/shorter hairstyle does fit Mido's character/personality, but the LG hair simply just doesn't look like the same hair type we see in the main series. Mido's hair has got the slightest wave to it (which I tend to over-exaggerate whenever I draw him).

With this in mind, I went and gave his hair some more body/volume by extending the sides. (You'll see a lack of volume/body is the key issue with the other LG hairs as well).

Murasakibara

Mura's hair in this movie looks so so flat and greasy. Now I didn't do the best job fixing it up, but this is basically how you'd go about doing it; just add more flowy strands. His hair is pretty pin-strait in canon, but there's lots of flowing strands, even when he's not moving much, which give it a clean-look.

When it's all just one limp form, like the movie does, it appears unclean as opposed to just long and sleek.

Momoi

Another victim of the lack of body/volume. The style they gave her is also simply bad, like she just took a pair of scissors and cut in a straight line. There isn't even really any style to it. Its kinda just laying there on her head, which is not what her hair usually looks like in the main series. There's always strands/some lift to it. Also Momoi has always had some sort of bangs/framing pieces in her face, so for her whole forehead to be out was just a tiny bit jarring.

I think the style I came up with is a little more mature while still having personality and life to it. Plus, LG takes place in the summer, so a shorter hair style would be more comfortable in the heat.

Kise

Kise I don't think I did a good job of fixing to my liking either. It was hard to edit it without making it look bad in general, because I really don't think this choppy sort of style suites him like at all, so it was too much to change. Now his hair is one of the better drawn ones in this movie for sure, but it feels more like a Kagami hairstyle than a Kise one to me. I just don't think his modeling agency would let him have such a choppy, hard-to-style haircut. I also think a more polished look fits his handsome, princely sort of appeal that makes him popular with girls.

Aomine

Alright, now its time for me to be playful and silly with some out-there hair styles. Aomine (and Kagami's hair) in Last Game I don't mind. After Akashi, I would say Aomine looks the best. BUT. We have NEVER seen Aomine with long hair, even in flashbacks when he's a child.

So for him to finally decide to grow out his hair - in the SUMMER HEAT - just feels like a weird move to me. Feels out of character. He strikes me as someone who likes his hair out of his face when he plays ball and just wants to roll out of bed and not worry about brushing/styling it or anything. The animators also aren't consistent in this movie and sometimes his hair looks particularly long in the front and back, which again, I don't think he'd like. This picture below and the ones above are from the same movie/take place within like a week of each other, yet look so different.

He looks cute and it definitely gives him a more youthful look; which is a weird choice, because they want to age up everyone else but Aomine in this movie. So, I think a fade would really suite him (I don't think I drew it that well tho). Keeps his hair short and out of his face but also ages him up a little more with a mature style.

Kagami

Alright, Kagami's look here is pure indulgence. @knbposting said "Kagami with a mullet" and I haven't stopped thinking about it. Sue me. His LG hair isn't bad and makes sense for his character and the time of year. But its just sorta plain. Honestly, Kise's hair style in this movie would probably suite Kagami more. I always liked how in the main series, Kagami's hair is a little scruffy in the back so I really wanted to lean into that.

Is a mullet suitable for the summer heat/something he'd like? Well, maybe not but I think it ages him up while also seeming like something he'd get at some point in his life. So here we are. I will end this with saying this is probably the longest he'd ever let his hair get.

Kuroko

Finally, we have Kuroko, whose hair I've barely changed. Now, the animators/artists do a really bad job of keeping his face on-model (eyes too beady, features too sharp) but that's a whole 'nother issue, and I managed to find a scene where they kept him on-model lol. I think a shorter, neat style is good for the summer and suites him, but a main feature of all the hair throughout the main series is the spikes/strands of hair on nearly every character - Kuroko especially - so I just added a tiny bit more here.

And that's the end! If you read all the way to here, thanks for coming to my insane-person rant.

#kuroko no basket #kuroko's basketball #knb last game #kagami taiga #kuroko tetsuya #aomine daiki #kise ryōta #akashi seijuro #akashi seijurou #midorima shintaro #midorima shintarou #murasakibara atsushi #momoi satsuki #kise ryouta #generation of miracles #kiseki no sedai #wannabespeaks #knb meta

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skelliko · 6 months ago

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Hello first time requesting

I was wondering if I can request reader x hanma were they have a toddler and hanma rough plays with him and overall hanma being a good father to the point that the reader is moved to tears as they see that since they never really saw how a loving father is supposed to look like so it’s like healing their inner child seeing their kid being genuinely loved by their father not just in name

(It’s to heal them daddy issues yes)

a/n: we're in this together cause me too. at first I didn't wanna write it since I've stated I wouldn't write about marriage or pregnancy but I'll let this dodge just cause I said so. (btw I did the kids gender as a boy cause you mentioned 'him' once, not sure if that was on purpose or not but i hope thats okay)

____

Hanma Shuji |-° a good father

it was scary getting married, afraid that it would turn south and become unhappy to the point where we'd turn down walls just to get our points across. afraid that cause of all our bickering he'd secretly go with another woman, become avoidant and distant but that hasn't happened, at all.

finding out I was pregnant was terrifying, afraid that I would fail as a mother of a sweet baby and id be the reason for his dreams and innocence being taken away. you don't need to be drastically smart to know that you eventually become your parents, everyone has some sort of element inside of them that resembles their care givers. so I was petrified that I'd turn out like my father, or maybe that I had married the wrong man to commit in having child with; just like my mother. generational trauma doesn't go easy on anyone, so my heart always shook and sank whenever i held my boy.

I try, I really do try a lot to make sure that what I went through won't ever happen to my- our kid and he'll grow up to be loved. but fear does still strike me since I'm yet to figure out how to be as a parent, Im aware that how I grew up wasn't right at all, but that doesn't mean that I know what good parenting looks like.

I've told hanma about my fear of parenting before we had agreed on having a kid, he didn't look at me weirdly, he didn't say anything negative, he didn't tell me that I shouldn't worry half assed as if it should be common sense to figure it out on the spot. instead, he told me not to worry sincerely, he meant every word he said, soothed me with warm words and some of his little jokes, and told me I have plenty of time to figure out if I want to be called 'mom' and that there was no reason to rush into things. so after a few days I've made up my mind and went on to discuss baby names as a hint that i want to keep it.

----

I hear small giggles in the other room, ones that belong to our child, a child that has the most gorgeous smile and has his father's eyes. his tiny baby hands have grown to be toddlers and he's still growing everyday.

I wiped my hands dry and clean on a towel in the kitchen from washing the vegetables that I was about to cut up and cook. I could have started right away with the cooking but I wanted to quickly see what's so amusing that got our boy all loud and humoured.

leaning against the door frame I saw our boy stood up on his little feet with his arms circling around in the air, Hanma was gently pinching his tummy with this thumb, pointer and middle finger making him ticklish and making 'pow' and 'wow' sounds. Hanma was smiling and laughing along as he'd change him movements to then annoy the kid by tapping him on his cheeks and nose, the boy would try and move hanma's hand away but despite his annoyance he was enjoying it and that just kept Hanma to keep playfuly annoy him.

is that something that fathers do? is that what they call rough play, or is this something else?

a main thing that also struck me in this moment was that hanma was smiling while playing with the boy. Im aware that parents can still smile but seeing his joyed expression instead of a bothered and annoyed look felt really refreshing.

for the past few years we've had our boy he's been nothing else than a good father, sure we've had a few off moments but there will always be short lasting moments where it feels like we're all sinking because of our own mistakes and flaws.

but over time Hanna has made me realize many things, about himself, myself, our boy and on an overall what it means to be a good parent. what considers to be good parenting is a very controversial topic for most but I'd say as long as the child is happy and isn't sat through abuse or neglect, that's more than enough.

my boy will have the childhood that I needed but couldn't have, Hanma is being the father that I needed but didn't have. our boy will be smiling all throughout. while im over here trying to keep in my angsty emotions, c'mon I'm better than this aren't I?

I put a hand over my mouth to stop my quivering lips but my teary eyes took that as a chance to spill over before I could wipe them away. looking away to avoid any attention but before I could go back to what I was doing before; Hanma called my name out and I felt his hands slide up my upper arm and turn me around. he saw me cry before I saw him notice.

"hey hey, what happened? talk to me" he said worryingly

looking at him briefly, I wanted to speak up but even I was unsure on what I was crying about, but then i looked at our boy for a few seconds and it only then clicked in. I shook my head gently before replying "no it's just- you're a good father. and I'm glad our boy will have you to look up to"

hanma immediately brought me into a tight hug but then chuckled a little, I felt the vibration of his laugh against his chest. whats so amusing? "and he has an amazing mother to look up to as well. I know how stressed you've been and I'm really proud of you for how far you've gotten"

♡---

#i hate writing about a sappy family #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #hanma x reader #hanma shuuji x reader #hanma shuuji x you #hanma shuji fluff #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers hanma

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returquoise · 9 months ago

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ATLALA, aka Avatar the Last Airbender Live Action

Sooooo, I finished the first season and had thoughts (just like everyone else lol). First context, non-spoilery thoughts, and then spoilers under the cut, yadda-yadda.

Why context? Because for a lot of people OG ATLA was their childhood, and they have super strong feelings about it and about any adaptation that exists. I'm not one of those people.

The first time I watched OG ATLA I was over 20 years old, which means I was an adult and had adult viewpoints about the story – worldbuilding, character writing, etc. It was never the hallowed most perfect show ever for me. It was and still is a fucking good show with some amazing writing and worldbuilding but I did have some gripes.

So when ATLALA was announced I remained neutral – I've seen the movie that shall not be named and din't really like it but shitty adaptations have always existed. When we started getting photos and trailers and news pieces, I was feeling pretty positive about the visuals, but neither news pieces or trailers actually tell you shit about what the writing or worldbuilding is like. However, I was about 70% optimistic.

Because what indications I did get about visuals, writing etc, were very reminiscent of another adaptation that had come out recently, about a series that was actually a bit more important to me on an emotional than ATLA. I'm talking about One Piece, and OPLA which came out last August. I've been a fan of that for 10 years longer than ATLA, and while they did a lot of changes, the spirit of the story was there.

So I copied my optimism and good feelings from that, going into ATLALA.

Now, the thoughts.

Visuals are pretty good. There are moments when I can tell they left some visuals out due to trickiness/budget (the "is Zuko's ship real?" review after the premiere). Some things look fake or plasticy, some stuff is too clean. Bending looks a lot better than in the movie that shall not be named.

Writing has issues. Some of it is very expositiony which makes it wooden and the shots uninteresting (there were so many badly framed shots with characters just awkwardly standing and talking). There are some lovely bits of dialogue that gave me feelings, but those moments were in the minority. And some writing choices were also quite childish, even for an adaptation of a kids' cartoon, so I'm a bit confused about the intended age demographic – except there are some really violent bits in there, which leave me even more confused.

Pacing was either frantic or okay-ish. The writers clearly had trouble paring down the OG series, and then ended up cramming stuff together. I could keep up with it (knowing what certain characters roughly meant for the plot, even if they were at a different place and time), but I'm not quite sure if someone uninitiated in the OG series could. The last 2 episodes had probably the best pacing and even then there were some things that made me go "hmmm."

Some actors have issues emoting – main and extras. I agree that the Gaang has lost some of their flaws compared to the OG series. Maybe some of them will make more of an appearance in season two when everyone's more experienced at acting? Especially considering that they'll likely have stuff more spaced out there – there are some episodes I'm pretty sure they'll outright skip, just based on the choices in this season. But we'll see. There were some fun and interesting bonding moments between different characters.

Sokka, Zuko, and Suki were the standouts from the younger cast. Suki is considerably different from the OG but it was acted and written well, and is an interesting choice. Sokka's quips, while not as numerous as in the OG, were fun. Physical comedy is obviously more toned down because real bodies can't do the same shit as cartoons. More about his arc choices later. Zuko was a bit toned down from the OG but IMO also the closest to it. And as someone who's almost finished with a Zuko AU fanfic, I was positively cackling due to the fact that some of the choices made for the character are similar to something I've done in my fic.

As for the rest of the main kids, there'll be more in the spoiler bits, BUT, they're different, and feel less experienced in acting. They're not bad but some choices were definitely different than in the show and they offer interesting opportunities. We'll see how they pan out, but be prepared for some speculation from me.

Fight scenes sometimes had IMO slow moments in the choreo, and they could have been better. Some were excellent, some a bit ehhh.

On the whole, I think this is about 7 out of 10. Some moments were 8 out of 10. It's a passable adaptation

Spoilery thoughts waaaay down.

Whoo boy. Where to start here?

Let's start with the cramming. As far as I can tell from my notes, the episodes are roughly divided like so:

EP1: 3,5 and bits (Boy in the Iceberg, Avatar Returns, Southern Air Temple, half of the Storm, bits of Avatar and the Fire Lord)

EP2: 1 and bits (Warriors of Kyoshi, part of Waterbending Scroll)

EP3: 3 halves (King of Omashu, Jet, Northern Air Temple)

EP4: 1, 4 halves and bits (King of Omashu, Jet, Northern Air Temple, Cave of Two Lovers, half of Winter Solstice P1, bits of the Avatar Day,)

EP5: 2 halves and pieces of 3 (half of Winter Solstice P1, half of Bato of the Water Tribe, part of Southern Raiders, part of the Library, part of Siege of the North) AND timeskip mention of the Great Divide and the pirates from Waterbending Scroll

EP6: 2, two halves and bits (Winter Solstice P2, Blue Spirit, half of Bato of the Water Tribe half of the Storm, part of Siege of the North)

EP7: 2 (Waterbending Master, Siege of the North)

EP8: 2 and pieces (Siege of the North, Return to Omashu, bits of Northern Air Temple, part of the Library)

Waterbending Scroll is a bit of throughline because you see moments of training in pretty much all of the episodes.

Episode 1 was very full, and felt rushed at times. There were a few places where they could have shortened some parts (like the earthbender spy scene at the start) to give more time for other stuff. Biggest gripes are the convenience of timing – Aang going off to clear his head only for everyone to die that very night. HOWEVER, me and my friends talked about it being likely Spirit shenanigans going "fuck, Air Nomads are gonna die now, we need to deepfreeze the Avatar for storage." We also concluded that the sudden current of Sokka and Katara finding Aang was either physics we don't understand, or Spirit shenanigans. Also the thing about all the Air Nomads coming over for the Great Comet festival? And then having so few of them on screen? Sorry, but I ain't buying it. Having such a sparse population in one temple I could have bought (with caveats) but adding in the gathering, nah.

Episode 2, Sokka-Suki was beautiful. I think it works even with the removed downplaying of girls capabilities (this change also brought some other stuff to Sokka I absolutely adored in later episodes but I'll talk about that when I start ranting about the characters). This was pretty close to the OG episode in many ways and I really don't have other problems with it, besides the somewhat childish end discussion about hope and shit with Aang and Suki's mom (Suki having a badass mom is fun). Manifesting Avatars and being able to talk to them only at their shrines will be an interesting take on stuff. Because that will affect some stuff on later seasons and I'm not sure how.

(And considering how scared Aang is of the Avatar State this early on, we might end up skipping the Avatar State in the next season. At least partially. Because we did get a lot of info now.)

That's a very full itinerary and it was hardest to follow at eps 3-4 because there were so many things going on. Jet's and the Mechanist's conflicting storylines made for an interesting drama (though, again, hard to follow) and gave Sokka and Katara something to do – which they didn't really have in the OG Omashu episode, which was what Aang was mostly dealing with here. In my opinion these two episodes didn't get a proper handling, because they're one of the few instances were we get people from the Earth Kingdom doing questionable shit, but we don't really discuss it. And while everyone know marketing is a mistake (it makes no one happy), considering that this series was trying to sell itself as a more mature take, that feeling is left kinda lacking in regards to Jet and the Mechanist. I do appreciate Bumi being fucking bitter, like Yass, you go king, as well as the bit with the Earth Kingdom soldiers speaking of grief and mistreating Iroh. That complexity is what was left lacking with Jet and the Mechanist, and how Katara and Sokka dealt with that emotionally. Also loved Zuko getting hit by a broom and Iroh taking the fall for him. The Zuko-Zhao alliance was an interesting angle to take (after messing it up pfft) and establishing early that Azula is a master infiltrator? I liked that move, also the fact that there are Fire Nation rebels. Although I fucking loved the quick fake marriage.

5 and 6, despite being about as full if not fuller, were weaven together really well in my opinion. My biggest gripe with that two episode storyline was how the Fire Sage Shyu-Aang team-up was done – not that it was any better in the OG to be fair but it is more jarring in live action. I just about died at the 41st twist because holy shit that's an amazing angst take and I appreciate it so much. And while we do get Aang planting an acorn, it feels like a really small moment and I think the Hei Bai issue should have got a bit more attention as the episode was resolved. Koh was fucking terrifying and the appearance of Wan Shi Tong – and in the last two episodes the appearance of the celestial objects calendar machine, as well as the fact that Zhao got his dirt on Tui and La from a Fire Sage – leads me to believe we won't be getting the Library episode next season.

(The only way I can see Return to Omashu happening is if it's remixed with Imprisoned which was totally left out of this season, or we get the important info aka neutral Jing info all from the Swamp, or from a letter Bumi sent. I personally think Return to Omashu-Imprisoned remix is more likely, just so we can prep Teo and the Mechanist for the Day of the Black Sun which we saw flashing by on the celestial objects machine just before we finally got the confirmation that Sozin's Comet is still a thing. Although The Avatar State could also be remixed into this in a sort of "yes, Earth Kingdom needs to free Bumi etc but I can't do it in Avatar State, we need to be smart.")

Episodes 7 and 8 were pretty chill in pacing issues. I thought Yue was a bit too quick in warming up to Sokka but considering how it was explained I can accept it. Also, the fact that Tui and La are intelligent enough to not be fish 24/7/365 is a change that makes sense although the whole Ice Moon (is it the local Halloween?) thing was very out of left field. Women joining the fight was a wild update and definitely more of a modern take than an early 2000s take. Do I have other thoughts? Sure, but I don't want to write bajillion essays and I just want a general overview in one post.

Zuko is, like I said, a standout. Absolutely love his conspiracy board, and as someone who writes a fic with a more scholarly inclined Zuko, I loved him being able to draw, being the foremost Avatar expert in the world (you can't tell me there can be more than one or two people out there who know more than Zuko at this point, look at his research), and having opinions about calligraphy brushes. Ugh, my heart. There's some absolutely wonderful acting happening and he does action really well. Is he a bit less explosive than in the OG? Sure, but one must remember, that adaptations are just licensed fanfics. His abuse background is in the performance, and my biggest question is the Agni Kai. There was a certain desperation in his face, so he must have wanted to make an impression on Ozai, and maybe felt a bit more like he had the right to it – as this show made it clear he had been invited in the War Council and did not needle his way in. Also the 41st twist oh holy smokes I just about screamed. His flaw is still anger and trouble thinking plans through.

Azula (her bangs in the flashback crack me up, was that her emo phase?) is more obviously affected by Ozai's games in this. I know OG Azula has loads of fans and there are loads of deep dives into her character and abuse and etc, but this is actually the first time her writing has made it obvious to me. She's still cold and calculating, but she's affected by more things and that makes her into a more approachable character for me. I know many fans got this from the OG portrayal so I know this is a me thing.

Sokka is another standout. I saw an interview where the actor was like "I tried to interject and ad lib humour where I could" and I appreciate it, because a lot of them made me cackle. There was some really good humour there. As for his arc and conflict; I think it's really interesting that he tries to live up to his dad's image of a warrior, and doing it very much out of duty. It isn't so much that he wants to be a warrior, but he wants to be good enough and I think that came through wonderfully. He can be a warrior, but it ain't his passion. It also offers very interesting bonding possibilities and parallels with Zuko. My heart broke at that ice-dodging scene in episode 5, as well as his heart-to-heart with Katara in episode 4 (fucking SIBLING LOVE TRIUMPHS). Also absolutely loved the fact that he supported Katara being a warrior in the North. His flaws in the OG are self-esteem issues (nailed here), and a certain level of arrogance, that affected his attitude towards girls at times. The latter has been removed but considering it only lasted until episode 4 in the OG series anyway, I don't see it as a terribly big deal. We can still get his "it'll totally work out this way" arrogant moment at pretty much any point in the story in the future.

Katara has trouble emoting. I don't know how much experience her actor has with acting, but I hope she gets better with practice. There are some very nice bonding moments she has with Sokka and Aang that bring emotion out, but she's very stone faced a lot of the time. One could read it as a symptom of seeing her mother being literally burned alive but that depends on how her arc is written in future seasons, and how it's acted. I really like the parallel with Sokka, of him trying to be a warrior out of duty, while Katara wants to be that and has trouble getting the opportunity to do so. This came out really well in episode 4. The fact that she was made a fucking commander of sorts at North was amazing moment of proving to her that she can be, that she is, a warrior. I'm kinda sad her temper has been left out of the writing, because with her being a self-taught water bender (which I'm okay with because we see her practising every fucking episode) there's a threat of her sliding into so-called Mary Sue territory. Hopefully Toph's inclusion brings her temper out next season. She's also missing some of her naiveté, although having a crush on the first good looking outsider (with fucking mirrored shots) just like her brother is hilarious.

Aang is... to mature. He gets a lot of really good and morally and ethically right speeches, and while he expresses that he's scared and doesn't know what he's doing, it still feels too mature. He also doesn't have that many dumbass child moments (what was that episode he just went "oops" in, that was funny and felt childlike, and then there was the water fight he had with Katara). It could be because we're going through stuff so fast but it'll be hard to fix later. I kinda like how his connection with Katara is being the last of their kind and loss – and then the small really good acting in ep7 when Katara says stewed sea prunes taste like home, and you can just see him go "oh, there's still someplace she can belong to, unlike me." I loved his calligraphy brush discussion with Zuko, because there was the beginnings of a bond there. As a friend said, it's nice they removed the Disney princess like love at first sight thing from the OG. If this turns into a romance (I have thoughts on that... later) I feel like it has a better chance to grow organically. No, I never shipped Kataang, please refer to the context part of this post.

Suki had a fun isolated, but curious, and socially awkward vibe to her. She's obviously different from the OG, but it's a fun and interesting difference, as the most characterisation we ever got for her was badass. Yue was interesting, more assertive and playful, which I liked. I also liked the fact that she had obvious duties and was expected to be the next chief. Even if the Northern Water Tribe sexism was kept, this felt like it added some dimension to it. June flirting with Iroh was hilarious, enough said. Mai and Ty Lee are blanks of wood. Their writing, and the direction they were given was horrible, and they're a prime example of that awkward standing and bad framing issue I mentioned way earlier. Ty Lee could have at least been bending herself into a pretzel, and Mai could have been using a knife to dig stuff from under her nails or something. I hope they get better writing and direction in the future.

Iroh was honestly pretty enjoyable. There were some moments of skilled evasive answering, but I was left missing him saying that Zuko was like a son to him. They do have really good chemistry though and you can see the care between the characters. I hated the long monologue at the end of episode 6, that felt very much beneath whatever target audience they were aiming for, and failed show not tell. Not perfect but can improve. Also, that one part where they played Leaves on the Vine, I almost died.

Ozai being a manipulative, abusive game addict is different but offers him some agency and motivation besides megalomania, which I appreciate. He had a peculiar expression when he burned Zuko, and that smells like hidden lore to me.

That's probably every character I feel like addressing at this point. However, I did mention romance in Aang's section, and I have to agree with the other whispers on the net. The fucking scarf scene. At this point, it's more likely for this show to be Zutara than Kataang IMO. BUT before people go and blow up about it, some points; cartoons offer more leeway in visual age differences, I feel like they would need to extend ATLALA plot line to last several years (instead of like, 9 months it's in the OG) to make it visually make sense. The Fortuneteller (as well as Katara's obsession with love?), and Aang's love at first sight have all been written out. Cave of Two Lovers was used for sibling love on the first season, and we ain't visiting that location again, not with how efficiently we did pretty much all of the Omashu stuff this season. Most of the Kataang iconic moments have been left out deliberately. Does this mean we'll get Zutara? Of course not, but due to the scarf scene, as well as that rivals thing they have going (we literally have two fights between Zuko and Katara this season, and the water sprout she used to thwart his fireball in episode one, and if that isn't a traditional beginning of a rivalry, nothing is), it's certainly more likely at this point than Kataang.

But we'll see, just like with everything else. It's an okay start, it's far from perfect, but it does offer new viewpoints that I find fascinating.

What's in the future.

I already explained my Return to Omashu-Imprisoned-Avatar State mash-up idea above, and that we'll likely miss the Library. I also think Avatar Day will be left out. I do however think, that we'll get the Deserter next season. We also need a way for Aang to learn about the Comet coming again and if Library is out (and probably also the Desert), best chances are IMO the Swamp or the Fortuneteller (remixing those two together is also possible). Or maybe Yeong Yeong has spies and they tell him about the Comet and he tells the Gaang. I also think they'll be foreshadowing/setting up White Lotus a bit more than we got in the OG.

I don't quite have my thought together enough to make any other guesses, but we will get Toph, Ba Sing Se, and Azula's Mean Girls Squad, but no clue yet how they'll be remixed. Season 2 has a much clearer timeline structure, whereas season 1 had a lot of episodic stuff that doesn't timeline wise offer too many roadblocks for remixes, as we saw with what they did with Omashu.

I think that's about everything I can think off. If you have comments, please be nice. This was mostly rambling, and tin foil hat baiting.

#avatar the last Airbender live action #avatar the last airbender #atlala #natla #netflix avatar the last airbender #review #thoughts #spoilers #non-spoilers #I'm sad people prefer the term natla to atlala #I'll keep calling it atlala for funsies #season 2 speculation #character analysis

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tumblingxelian · 4 months ago

Text

RWBY V8 & Penny's Fall:

I wanted to weigh in on this matter again with a perhaps alternative take to some of what I see as the more usual FNDM stance on her fall.

Namely, it doesn't bother me.

Sacrilege, I know, but the thing is while Penny is not in my top four, she is a character I both like & find genuinely interesting.

Heck, I have a video heavily focused on Penny & Ruby's characters & relationship being much deeper & more interesting than the UWU beans I find in most FNDM.

She's a great character but that's also why it doesn't bother me as I feel it works for the story & made sense for the character.

But first, some house cleaning.

House Cleaning - They made her human?

As others noted, this is something some take issue with for a few different reasons. As I understand it the main issues people tend to have with V8's handling of Penny outside her death was that they made her 'human' in place of keeping her synthetic body. As others also noted, I am unsure if she even was human and not just another kind of synthetic entity, but that's rather besides the point.

House Cleaning - Thematic Representation?

The other thing people take issue with this is that they regard it as a form of ableism to make her human. I always feel its integral to note that while many in FNDM understandably took Penny's robotic nature as meaning in a Real World AU, she might be using prosthetic limbs.

There is no evidence as far as I am aware that the writers intended her to be considered analogous to a disabled person or to thematically represent disabled people.

Thus, while its a fine and fun headcanon, I am not sure one can argue it was some sort of deliberate offence or act of ableism on the creators part if they never even conceived of Penny as such.

This wouldn't be like becoming aware of queer subtext, ship teasing then killing one of them off and putting the other in a straight relationship. As far as I can tell their thematic framing of Penny never shifted and was never explicitly used to draw such comparisons.

House Cleaning - A Reward?

Penny being rewarded with a none robotic body & then dying. We'll discuss the death later but just on the reward angle, I think that is rather iffy.

Yes, Penny appreciated not being dead and enjoyed the increased tactile sensations. But we also see how much more fragile and floundering she is with her new form. When Penny fought Cinder last time with Cinder having backup, Penny kicked her ass.

Here, Penny has the support and is barely keeping up. She's in pain, she can't fly easily, she can't use her weapons easily, she has lost tons of functions that were once innate to her very being.

Maybe one could argue its like post surgeries fragility or that she'd have grown into it, but as it stands, I don't think the new body was presented as strictly speaking a good thing or a reward. It was a desperate gamble to save her life, nothing more.

Adding onto that, I think people mis-ascribe the source of Penny's angst regarding her mechanical nature. She's shown cheerfully embracing and enjoying many aspects of it all the time. When it becomes an issue for her is when others use it to de-'humanize' her.

Given how quickly Ironwood, the Ace-Ops, Mantle and even just casual conversation could do that on purpose or by accident. I think its less "I hate being a robot" and more, "I hate that people treat me this way because of what I am and its giving me anxiety & or insecurities".

I also think anyone would be a little uncomfy with their body being something someone else can take over and puppet, that's an issue with loss of agency & physical invasiveness & we have Semblances which might not have been able to effect Penny that can do similar things, IE memory erasure & mind control.

House Cleaning - Conclusion

For comparisons sake, if Ruby's essence got moved over to a sort of life sized marionette and she was cool with it because she's still alive & have super flexible joints for wicked cool attacks, but then she he died fighting, I don't think people would regard it as a reward turned sour.

In essence, I think a lot of the stigma comes with people associating tropes & themes to the writers decisions that were not actually in the story & just assuming them present; as opposed to than having textual support & despite CRWBY's efforts to deconstruct tropes & themes in general.

The Main Event:

Moving on to Penny's death, people take issue with quite a few aspects of it but I weirdly feel it all ties together well and think it works on a thematic level. My reason being, that Penny is the other side of the coin whose other half Ironwood and between the pair are the likes of Winter, the Ace-Ops and so on.

What I mean here is that the Atlas arc dealt heavily with the themes of 'de-humanization' of seeing people made unto like objects, mere cogs in a machine that were not expected to think, feel, or heal & have their entire worth judged against an idea or a system & always come up wanting. You don't matter, I don't matter, they don't matter, only what we can accomplish for the worlds, the cause, Atlas, ETC, matters.

Ironwood regards Mantle as a few city blocks, their suffering is at best a theoretical moral burden to him and a political nuisance, nothing more. Winter thinks expressing any emotions or making decisions for herself is a failure and act of disloyalty and is not allowed time to heal after severe injuries but just poured into a mobility mechanism, then thrown back onto the battlefield. Meanwhile the Ace-Ops are not allowed to even conceive of real, deep or genuine emotions or ideas, they have all convinced themselves they don't matter except in how they serve Atlas.

The Happy Huntresses are actually the exception to this because they escaped the coin/system & are dedicated to people, ideals & each other.

Meanwhile, Ironwood is the opposite of Penny, while both still embody the opposite extreme ends of the same spectrum of beliefs.

Both of them talk of or otherwise frame themselves as the one with the duty to save the world, both put themselves under immense and isolating pressure tanks to their respective Atlas's complexes and both default heavily to sacrificing whenever the opportunity or even potential need seems to arise. Both will do whatever it takes for their goals and beliefs.

The difference?

Ironwood sacrifices everyone else for his goals and beliefs, for his idea of what Atlas is, what it means & what its worth.

Penny tries from volume 8 if not earlier, to sacrifice herself because of her goals & beliefs, & what they're worth to her.

She does this so much and so often, that she had to keep being talked out of throwing her life away in the hope that Ironwood, or Salem would calm down and leave them be. She defined her self worth and existence by being out there doing things, hence becoming so saddened when needing to be kept away from the battlefield despite the fact she was both a target and potentially a huge game changer for any of the villains.

Penny has Atlas's ideology of de-humanization and sacrifice every bit as much as Ironwood, but in her mind she's the expendable one, while Ironwood cannot conceive of himself as being expendable, because he has tethered himself to Atlas, which he has tethered to the world.

Here is the thing though.

While Penny's take on this idea is more noble, more charming, more useful it is still part of an incredibly self destructive ideology, one that is of itself rooted in Ozpin's well known Guardian theory. With isolated lone champions serving as paragons of virtue & himself as the main character heroically bearing all the burdens. An ideology we saw sent Pyrrha spiraling, left Ozpin a broken & paranoid wreck & nearly destroyed Ruby.

Penny & Ironwood both fell because both keep trying to sacrifice others (Ironwood) or themselves (Penny) in a bid to accomplish their goals & or otherwise fulfill their designates roles; roles that both only have because of the culture and ideals suffusing Atlas, as reflected by how they are seen in so many other characters and the overarching themes of the Atlas Arc.

Thus, it makes sense character wise and I think it both makes sense thematically for the reasons outlined above & dramatically as this is the darkest moment. But also because if Penny just won, or somehow survived without changing that ideological thinking it'd be implicitly arguing that this was a good way to think and act rather than one that is ultimately self harming.

For comparisons sake, if a show has a good victim who only gets help because their trauma responses are convenient or 'cute' and who never grows out of or overcomes said traumas and the show argues it is meant to represent how best to view escape & recover from abuse. Then that series is inadvertently arguing its better a person stay locked in a traumatized state than actually try to change or grow & that is a story problem.

So, in this regard, Penny surviving would also necessitate her making the decision to prioritize the mission over her self sacrificing tendencies or to otherwise prioritize her own safety (Which she has every right to do given the circumstance). However it would not involve Penny flinging herself into another self sacrificial bout but winning this time, or just being saved again after its happened so many times already.

I hope that, that made sense.

I am essentially saying to keep Penny alive but keep everything else mostly the same, one then throws away the thematic & narrative meaning of the Atlas Arc; or if they want to keep Penny alive, they need to alter the Atlas Arcs themes or the cast & overall story to keep it coherent.

People are obviously free to not be fans of it, I am sad when characters I like die, but I don't view it inherently as a bad writing decision and I hope I have outlined here, exactly why I think that this worked for the Atlas Arc, the series of RWBY and made sense for its characters.

Thanks for reading!

Speculation:

Now, I don't do much speculating, but given so much of the shows current drama was created as a result of someone wanting a dead loved one back, them returning but it ultimately not being enough to stave off tragedy and self destruction. I feel one can also ague this is meant to serve and tie Ruby & Salem closer together as nominal dramatic foils.

This is speculative of course, especially given the nature of death, balance and resurrections in this series is not even close to the hard line some think it is thematically speaking, but I do think that is worth keeping in mind.

#RWBY #CRWBY #greenlight volume 10 #Meta #Text Post #Analysis #character analysis

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lupineaerosol · 1 year ago

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traveler pt. 2 | thomas shelby x f!reader

not my gif! dm for credit

pairing : thomas shelby x fem! time traveled reader

word count : 4265

summary : your first day of work at the Garrison, and a meeting with the inspector looms over your head. things may be going perfectly for you, but how quickly can that change?

warnings : alcohol mentioned, ptsd and a panic attack, broken glass(?)

a.n.: LOTS of harry fenton interactions + we finally meet thomas!!! lowkey gonna have moments of other characters x reader but trust!! the plot in my head is so good and im begging yall to just trust my crazy process <3 if anyone has any issues with the content or what i write about because it goes against anything online please let me know so i can fix it!!

not my gif! dm for credit

The sun kissed gently at your eyes through the frosted glass above your head in the booth. Your neck ached from the uncomfortable position you had slept in, the muscles screaming at you to be at a different angle. You had woken up shivering in the night, had put on your hoodie from your trunk, and to your luck, you were the only person in the bar. It would be a sticky situation trying to explain the item of clothing to Harry. Taking the thick item of clothing off to shove back into the leather case that sat in the aisle at the end of the booth, the crisp February air threw a chill into your bones and you immediately wished you were able to keep the jacket on.

No better way to warm up than to start moving. Your eyes scanned across the dusty Garrison for a broom. There has to be one somewhere here, maybe a little looking around won’t be so rude. Harry did agree to my help this morning.

Soft footsteps across the intricate marble floor were the only sound within the building, other than the distant booming of the factories down the road. You first checked the isolated corner room that waited by the front door. The door opened smoothly, the stained glass art framed beautifully by the wood. A table and a few chairs were scattered around, empty ashtrays and a few cigarette boxes in a tidy stack. The small window to the bar was open, the wood bleached in an intricate pattern of previously spilled liquors.

Turning back to the main room, the stairway beaconed an investigation. Stepping lightly through the dust and dirt that scattered the floor, and a thorough investigation left you believing the stairs had no intention of keeping secrets from you. A rattle of the two doorknobs of the rooms behind you made it clear that without lockpicking experience you wouldn’t be getting into them. A swift inspection behind the bar left you empty handed, but the room behind the bar seemed more promising for cleaning items. Your eyes scanned the boxes and shelves of liquor and cigarettes but nonetheless, there was still no sign of a simple fucking broom. How can a bar operate without a broom??

The front door of the Garrison slammed shut and the sound of keys jingling made your adrenaline spike. “‘Ello? Miss (y/n)?” Harry’s voice echoed through the building.

“Good morning,” Your bare feet padded softly out of the back room, slightly ashamed at being caught snooping around. Rounding the corner of the bartop, you greeted Harry with a curt wave. “I was just looking for a broom, I figured I could start working before you got here.” You spoke truthfully, and as gently as you could. Harry didn’t seem to be the type of man quick to anger, but you weren’t about to take any chances.

“Oh,” A smile lit his face. “Thank you! That’s quite nice of you ma’am.” He carried his coat around to the back room and hung it on a coat rack. Turning to open a thin and carefully crafted door to his right, he reached in and revealed two brooms, leaning to hand you one. The weight was moderate, but the wood was soft in your hands, easy to use. “I’ll be checking stock back here, you can start whenever you would like.”

“I’ll be out here I suppose.” You carried the broom to the darkest corner of the Garrison and started there. A quickly forming dust cloud swirled around your bare feet that had finally warmed up against the tiles. The rhythm and sway of the broom comforted you, staring at the ground with a simple task reminded you of your chores at home. Harry puttered around the bar around you, wiping down the tables and chairs, cleaning dishes and writing tally marks in a small book.

Small talk filled the time between the two of you, and you indulged trust in him to explain that you had no clue where you had come from after waking up in Inverness, but had traveled all day yesterday in an attempt to get to London. You also talked about your financial situation, to which Harry sympathized. There was no possibility of getting to London, feeding and clothing yourself, and being able to afford a boat to New York.

“Have you considered staying here, in Birmingham? Traveling to London with 10 pounds in your pocket is no way to travel. You could stay and earn some money before leaving again.” Harry asked, looking up from the section of the bar he had been scrubbing. “There are plenty of jobs around here, and a room upstairs I would let you rent.” Hope bloomed in your chest.

“You’re serious?” You turned to face him with a wide smile. “That would be phenomenal! I could open the Garrison in the mornings if I lived here, that way you wouldn’t have to be up so early in the morning to clean and fix everything up.” Your proposition of a job settled on Harry’s mind, he had been quietly looking to add an extra set of hands to the team.

He paused to chew on the idea. “I wouldn’t mind a few more hours with the wife in the morning.” He placed the dish rag in his hand down onto the bartop, tilted his head from side to side and then nodded. He lifted his hand out to yours to shake in a deal. “Rent is 10 pounds a month, pay is 2 pounds a day. You’ll work from 8 in the morning until you’d like to leave, we can tally the hours together later on.”

You swiftly wiped your hands on Isa’s gifted skirt, reaching out and shaking Harry’s hand. “You will not regret this, mister Fenton. I promise you.”

The sun had risen and the movement in the building had warmed it slightly. The bar had been open since 10, and Harry had continued to instruct you on assorted tasks, and it seemed you were no longer loitering but forging a place serving drinks at the bar. People were friendly to you, mostly men who had been out all night drinking had stumbled in to spend all morning drinking. That seemed to be the state of Small Heath, people down on their luck trying to create a life for themselves. Maybe it was fate that had dropped you here, and after suddenly gaining a job it seemed hard to debate that destiny had laid the cards for you.

You had been watching the time tick anxiously, trying to figure out what to do about your appointment with the Inspector. You had decided against trying to acquire a visa, at least for a few months to save money, but became increasingly concerned about his dedication to helping you. Would he try to track me down while I’m staying here? What if he enjoys drinking here at the Garrison? Thoughts and worries swarmed your head as you continued to serve drinks and cigarettes. Maybe stopping off to explain you don’t need the visa anymore would help. Telling him directly that you don’t need or want his help would solve it. You were sure of it. You had told him you would find him today anyways, it would be rude to stand him up, even as uncomfortable as he made you feel.

“Harry, do you mind if I leave for the hour? I met someone on the train yesterday and I arranged a meeting with him this morning.” You had tucked your carrying case behind the bar until you had a chance to see the state of the room upstairs Harry had mentioned.

“Sure, you’ve been working all morning,” Harry said, running drinks to a small group of men at a table before rushing back behind the bar. “Where are you off to?”

“The police station, there was a policeman that told me he could get me a visa home, I need to explain I don’t need it anymore.” You leaned over the bar to explain it to him quietly.

“A copper? What’s his name? I have a cousin in the force that was on the train yesterday.” Harry asked enthusiastically.

It took you a second to recall any other name than ‘Inspector’. “I believe his name was Chester Campbell, Inspector Chester Campbell.” Your head tilted slightly when Harry’s emotions stayed the same. “I assume that isn’t your cousin.” You lightly laughed.

“Never heard the name.” Harry smiled in a friendly way. “But the police station is a few blocks from here, but there’s signs that mark the way.” His directions were vaguely helpful.

“I’m off then, I’ll be back before lunch.” Your shoes padded quietly out the door and onto the gravel of Garrison street, following the signs towards the police station as quickly as possible.

“Excuse me, is Inspector Campell here?” You leaned over the receptionist’s desk, a small and stout man writing on a pad of paper grunted a response.

“Down the hall and on the right, take the stairs and his office is on the left.” His voice was gruff and his bushy beard barely moved when he spoke to you.

“Thank you.” You attempted to follow the second set of bad directions given to you today, and eventually found yourself on the second floor and face to face with the words ‘Inspector’s Offices’. You take a deep breath before knocking on the frosted glass.

“The door is open.” The all-too familiar voice of the man who made the last leg of your travel agony rattled through the door frame. A second breath and you turn the handle and push through, walking through the threshold to see a large desk, chair, and the inspector standing, hands clasped behind him, with his back to you looking out the window.

“Good morning,” The room reverberated with your words and echoed slightly. The Inspector turned over his shoulder to identify you, it seemed your voice wasn’t enough to remind him who you were. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“Not at all, ma’am.” He stepped closer to the desk, neatly organized papers and books decorated it fittingly. “It’s good to see you, I expected you to arrive earlier. The train to London has already departed for the day.”

“I know, I chose not to leave.” You had barely ventured into the room, not daring to step across to the man. It was already uncomfortable enough from afar, there was no need to add to it. “And I most likely won’t be needing a visa for a while.”

“Are you staying here in Small Heath? I have to advise against it, murderers and thieves run the streets as if they own them, madam.” Campbell turned the corner on his desk, slow steps toward you.

“I am afraid I’ve already committed to staying, sir.” Your voice was filled with determination. The Inspector’s expression fell further than it had been. “And I thank you for the offer to help me get home, but I must refuse.” Before he could speak again you interrupted him.

“Have a good rest of your day Inspector.” A curt nod and you turned to exit the room swiftly, hoping and praying that the issue was resolved.

The bar had filled up since you left, and it seemed your presence in the Garrison had already been accepted by the building, a different aura had seemed to already stain the wood accents you had spent the morning polishing. Returning to your place behind the gold bar, you serve up a box of cigarettes and a few beers to a man with a middle part (that matched the red sea when Moses made his visit) and his group. Harry greeted you with a small smile and wave from across the room, finally catching that you had returned from your short task out. You began to polish some of the finer glasses when the front door squeaked open.

A man in a flat cap pushed through both sets of doors to the Garrison, the rough texture of his jacket silhouetted over his frame like a man who had influence. His eyes pulled in the low light of the Garrison and devoured it, gorgeous sky blue tumbling into his dark pupils. He carried himself with a deadly certainty, every step he took was calculated and he didn’t even seem conscious of it. His eyes traveled over to the man you had just served, and he swiftly pulled his hat off, expression unreadable, tossing it onto the bartop like he owned the place. The others at the bar swiftly left to a different seat in the building, far away from the man who walked into the building as if he could lay it to rubble with a few words. It seemed that everyone was afraid of the man, and you agreed with them, you would not want to cross this man in any way.

Harry was quick to rush over next to you, carrying a bottle of fine Irish whiskey and a glass. “On the house, Mr. Shelby.” He popped the cork off the bottle and let it settle onto the countertop, before leaving Mr. Shelby to himself. A pinstriped shirt beneath his jacket and a tight collar around his neck. He placed a few coins gently onto the metal surface of the bar, and strained around to once again look across at the group in the corner. Mr. Middle part stood and finished his beer, and spun to walk over slowly and situate himself at the bar with the largely intimidating man who had barged in seconds ago. The Middle Part ordered a mild beer from Harry, ignoring your presence with skill.

“Cheers, Thomas. Good health to you.” Thomas Shelby. The name of the powerful individual across the bar made goosebumps surge from your shoulders to your fingertips. Deeply unsettling people must just love the Birmingham aura. You made a point to busy yourself enough to tune out their conversation, catching bits and pieces of what seemed to be an important exchange of information. The most you caught of the talk was the hidden razors sewn into Mr. Shelby’s hat, a far larger warning of his habits than the way he carried himself.

Your attention had been directed at a brave pair who had sauntered up to the bar for the next round, but a far larger man bursting through the doors and almost crashing into a table became the focus. His body barreled into tables, drinks, chairs and liquid flew everywhere. The group within the bar began to go for him, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to gain control of the wildly thrashing man.

“They’re going to get me!” The panic in the man’s voice was genuine, and he sounded as if he had been chased here, panting between involuntary and fear created noises. Mr. Shelby and his companion took the hysterical man to the floor, pinning him down.

“Breathe, Danny, breathe!!”

“They’re going to get me!!!” He thrashed under the weight of the two men, still able to show his strength from the bottom of the pile.

“Danny, you’re home. We’re all home in England. You are not in France.” Thomas’ voice was crystal clear, and as calm as he could seem to manage. “You’re not an artillery shell, Danny, you’re a man. You’re not a whizz-bang. You’re a human being, Danny.” A veteran, of course.

The man, Danny, had continued struggling until this point, but seemed to be calming down. You moved quietly to get a glass of cold water for the man, while the boys were finishing soothing the firecracker personified.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Shelby, I’m sorry.” Danny had begun to weep, and you chose this as the moment to approach with the cup of water.

“Water?” You drew nearer to the three slowly and tentatively, handing the glass to the extended arm of Mr. Shelby, who then handed it to Danny. All three men gave a small look of appreciation to you. He downed it in a quick chug and threw a quick ‘thank you’ your way before moseying to the front doors with the others.

“You go home to your wife now, Danny. Try and get all the smoke and mud out of your head, eh?” Mr. Shelby instructed, and ushered Danny out of the building. An unease settled over the patrons of the bar as the doors swang closed, men scattered around the room in a crescent shape around the former commotion.

Harry spoke up from where he was attempting to return a table to its previously unruined state. “Mr. Shelby, you have to do something about him.”

“You’re damn right, Harry.” The Middle part piped up, seeming to stare imaginary bullets through the back of Mr. Shelby’s head. “You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection. You’re the law around here now, Tommy, aren’t you?”

The intense situation between the two seemed to boil over for a moment, but the rest of their conversation was too quiet to pick up on from your place nearby, cleaning up glass shards. Mr. Shelby carefully pulled his cap back over his hair, and stepped to leave the building, stopping at your side.

“Thank you for the water. Seems like you’re the only person who knows how to handle the aftermath of something like this, good job.” His words were concise, his eyes scanning your dirty skirt and off white blouse. His gaze read details you couldn’t comprehend noticing about yourself, but with a quiet air of approval. At the door he tipped his hat to you and spoke across the room to Harry, “Send the bill to the Peaky Blinders. We’ll take care of it.” before swiftly exiting the Garrison, shooting a final, trapping glance your way.

You were left with the bar in pieces, chairs and tables broken, glasses shattered. You moved to help Harry with sweeping up shards. A few minutes of silent focus was broken by Harry’s stern voice, a new experience to add to the ever growing list.

“What you did was very nice, but it’s best to leave those situations in our hands, Mr. Shelby and Mr. Thorne had the situation under control.” Harry looked up from the broom in his hands and spoke lightly but sternly. You assume his meaning of ‘our’ meant the men of mixed shapes and sizes that frequent the Garrison. Your stomach sank a bit, the small breakfast of bread and butter tumbled in your gut. All you had wanted to do was help, and a glass of water barely seemed offensive, but perhaps your modern mindset clouded your judgment.

“I’ll be more careful next time, Mr. Fenton.” Was all the response you could think of. You couldn’t promise that you wouldn’t interfere if something happened again, the image of Danny pinned to the floor flashed through your mind with a shiver.

“Have you worked with veterans before?” Harry’s intrigue about your history popped into conversation. “You seemed calmer than most of the men in here, and that’s truly saying something.”

You hesitated with a response. A college friend of yours had severe panic attacks quite frequently, and you were practically trained to handle other people’s terror in a collected way. There were many moments you had to give a similar pep talk that Mr. Shelby had drilled into Danny.

��A close friend of mine. The war tore her apart, too many cases of trench foot and a few too many close calls with hand grenades.” You improvised, while lifting the dustpan of glass shards from the floor and rose from where you had been sitting on your knees. “I usually was the one to calm her down when her family couldn’t.”

“Was she a nurse?” Harry queried, alluding to France and the war while moving to the next section of glass and spilled beer. You nodded quickly, trying your hardest to end the conversation. I have got to figure out a backstory.

Quiet chatter of patrons filled the building, distant thuds and banging from the factories. People filed into and out of the Garrison, and the place was empty enough in the afternoon before quitting time that Harry handed you a key and dismissed you to go settle into the room upstairs.

Grabbing your trunk from its hidden place behind the bar, you hurried up the stairs and unlocked the door, dust and darkness floating out of the small bedroom and attached room with a sink. It was quaint, definitely small, but certainly not a shoebox. A bed situated in the corner and slightly under what seemed to be the only window. A large dresser against the wall on your left, a full-length mirror nestled between the other wall and the dresser. It was otherwise quite plain and derelict. You crossed the room and tugged open the shades and pulled the window up with a loud squeak, and immediately the noise of Small Heath joined you in the room. You started dusting and airing out the old sheets and blankets, folding what clothes you had from Isa and tucking them into the large dresser, hiding the futuristic clothes you traveled in within the trunk and under your bed.

You took the time before the rush to change into a few of the other clothes you had, a deep burgundy skirt and a second white blouse. The puffed sleeves ended at your elbows, a small ruffle running from shoulder to shoulder aiming in a point down to your belly button. A quick swipe of a rag over the standing mirror in the corner opposing the door and you stepped back. All things considered, you didn’t look too out of place, a few changes to your hair and you looked like any other lady striding down the street. The blouse didn’t fit too strangely on your figure, and the skirt was hanging perfectly on your figure.

The ticking of a clock above the doorway became apparent to you, and with a fast glance you read ‘5:13’ on its face. The rush hour drinking would start in a few minutes, and Harry would need your help. Tidying the last bits of your new home to your taste, you strung the key on a string around your neck and tucked it down into your blouse before stepping into the hallway and down the stairs.

The chatter of the Garrison was already lively, the warm lights casting a homely feeling across the worn faces of men who had worked their day away within the factories and shops of Small Heath. Conversations of strikes at the BSA factory floated through your attention, details about a man named Thorne. I wonder if it’s the same man who helped Danny this morning?

The time ticked by, your presence collected eyes, and not all of them friendly. Your chats with random patrons were monitored, anything about you was collected to be fed to a devourer of information. Blissfully unaware, you offered a friendly chat to whoever needed one, a lone young man at the bar, a group of old men, any other man who wanted a friendly smile from the new bartender. No one had expected Harry to hire a woman, especially not one from America who talked funny and wouldn’t speak of anything from her past.

9:00, and the bar had calmed somewhat. You were wrapped up in a conversation with Harry and a group of his friends when the table next to yours had just quickly paid and left. Eager to help Harry and prove your place, you toddled to the bar to grab a rag to clean the table, and as you returned to the dirty dishes and silverware, the conversation of Harry’s group had shifted.

“Where exactly is (Y/N) from in America? I’ve never heard an accent like that.”

You craned your ears in an attempt to hear Harry’s response. “I’m not quite sure, she never said. I assume California, somewhere west.”

“And so she shows up out of the blue, tough on her money and looking for a place to stay?”

“Stop insinuating that she insisted on staying, she didn't.” Harry considered his response carefully. “I actually suggested she stayed. I’ve been looking for a pretty face behind the bar, she needed a job and a place to stay, I just happened to be able to help. She says she traveled from the north yesterday, she didn't say from where, but somewhere far, she looked wrecked last night.. She’s a sweet one, far too nice for this place.”

You were flattered, but the pressure to come up with a backstory for how you suddenly appeared in Scotland yesterday morning and managed to get to Birmingham while also acquiring a job and apartment was too good to sound true. I could always go with the amnesia plot, play that role for the rest of my time here.

Harry continued his thought. “I hope this place doesn’t trap her here like it did the rest of us.”

“But you trust her?” Harry hesitated before muttering something far quieter to his mates.

“...ut she’s been nothing but helpful since last night, christ, she slept here in the bar in the middle of February instead of begging to sleep at my home in front of a fire. But no, I don’t think there’s anything sinister about her, I’m not sure if it’s possible.” Harry’s voice grew in volume again, and for the rest of the night you’re focused on what he could have possibly said to the group of men.

a.n: i proofread but not all the way through, if the end is weird sorry i tried my best :P had a lot of fun writing this and im glad i actually updated on it instead of forgetting about it and never touching it ever again

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #Thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x you #arthur shelby

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jpitha · 9 months ago

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Between the Black and Gray 19

First / Previous / Next

After lunch, a few crew members came up to Fen and invited her down to the shooting range.

"What do you say, Ms. Whitehorse?" One of them, a youngish man with dark hair and a close cropped beard asked shyly.

Fen smiled. "Fen is fine. Sure, let me go fetch my rifle and I'll go to the range." She turned. "Kel, would you like to come too?"

Kel held both of her hands out in surrender. "No thanks Fen! I just barely passed my shooting test, I'll stick to plants for now. You go have fun."

Fen went to her temporary quarters and grabbed her rifle and met the crew at the range a few minutes later. Dreams was large enough that it had quite a few amenities and a large rifle range was among them. It was in the bottom rear of the ship, next to the hold, and when Fen showed up, everyone was getting issued their ammunition. Fen took her spot in line and when she stepped up the armorer asked what she needed.

"I need rounds for a Mk47 main battle rifle." Fen hefted her weapon up to the counter so that the armorer could see it. Her rifle was given to her by Gord, and printed to her specifications. It was sky blue, with a dark blue K'laxi pattern along the stock running up the barrel and looked out of place among the sea of coal black rifles. The armorer blinked and stared.

"A Mk47? Why are you shooting that antique? That hasn't been standard issue for centuries! I don't even know if I have rounds that big, I have to go back to the magazine and look."

Fen crossed her arms. "The Mk47 is a classic. It has the stopping power necessary to take on any biological opponent, will stop all consumer and many military grade walking frames, is easy to clean and parts can be printed anywhere with nearly any resolution printer available."

The armorer shrugged. "Fine, fine. You clearly know your stuff. Let me go look in the back." While the armorer disappeared, Fen talked with the others. Gev had invited her, he worked in the main battery and gushed about how she took down Ellen.

"I can't say she was everyone's favorite, but I didn't expect anyone to just snap and slam her head like that! I can't believe you got in so fast."

Fen's face hardened. "She was flinging slurs at me. I'm proud of who I am."

Gev nodded quickly "I get it, I get it. I was born on Parvati and even though I grew up in Regantown on Venus people still think of me as just a colonist. I never dislocated a shoulder though."

"If Gev liked normal food like us, we'd probably make fun of him less!" One of the crew with them said. The others laughed.

Gev winced. "They don't like Parvatian food. They said it's too 'ethnic.' As if having a spice other than cilantro and salt is ethnic!"

Fen smiled tightly. She had a hunch that Gev was downplaying how much of a hard time they gave him.

The armorer returned and practically threw three magazines onto the counter. "Here. Any more and I'll have to run the printers. You're lucky that we even had those. Regs state we need to have some rounds of just about every size."

Fen thanked the armorer, scooped up the magazines and joined Gev and his friends. They were chatting and each taking turns running a timed event. In thirty seconds, targets would appear all over the range, and the person with the most accurate strikes got the most points. Fen had done this drill with Gord quite a bit when she was learning, so she was broadly familiar with it. She checked over the ammunition the armorer gave her, and got a magazine ready.

When it was her turn, she stepped up to the counter, loaded and cocked her rifle, and lifted it up to her shoulder. "Ready."

There was a tone, and the first target appeared. Fen slowed her breathing, sighting, squeezing and felt the pressure on her shoulder from her gun. Almost as soon as her finger brushed the trigger, her peripheral vision was already looking for the next target. The Mk47 was a much larger and louder rifle than what Gev and his friends fired. The noise of hers was deafening in the range, and everyone stopped shooting to watch.

The world shrank for Fen. It became her, the rifle, the target and the next target. Over and over, one after another until another tone sounded the end of the drill.

Blinking, Fen ejected the empty magazine, and set the rifle down. She rolled her shoulders back, putting her hands on the back of her hips. "I need to get down here more, that felt rusty." She turned to see everyone staring at her. "What? Was it that bad?"

Gev silently pointed to the scoreboard near the front of the range. Her name was at the top, with the highest score, and three little stars next to the number.

"What are the stars?"

"One star means the high score for the month. Two stars means the high score since deployment. Three stars is the highest score recorded."

Fen looked at the scoreboard. She had beaten the next score under hers by over one hundred points. She nodded once. "Looks to me like you're all slacking." She smiled and slotted another magazine. "Reset the drill, I bet I can do better."

Fen spent the rest of the time at the range giving out impromptu lessons in shooting. Everyone was so sloppy. She wondered if it was something to do with Imperial training or the fact that it was just her and Gord for so long she had extra experience. After about an hour, everyone's scores were improving but they were clearly getting tired. "Well, I'm out of ammunition now, and if I ask the armorer for more I think she's going to throw them at me. Let's stop for today."

Fen and the others stepped away from the firing line and cleaned and oiled their rifles. The others checked them back in with the armorer and Fen slung hers to her back. As they were getting ready to leave, Captain Cooper walked in. Everyone froze and immediately saluted.

She smiled broadly. "At ease, I'm here to congratulate our guest. Overall high score? Very impressive. I had no idea you were such a shooter!"

Fen tried to demure. "Thank you Captain, it's just practice."

Captain Cooper shook her head. "Nonsense. Practice is but one aspect. You have to have skill, experience and training to get that good. You must have been training for a long time."

"For a few years yes, but it was more that I spent nearly every down moment on my previous ship at the range. There wasn't much else to do aboard ship, so I just practiced."

Captain Cooper turned to the crew. "See what a human can do with practice and motivation? She's beaten the all time score onboard on her first attempt! I want to see those scores improving. I'm going to allow her score to stand even though she's not crew to show you what humans are capable of." She turned back to Fen. "Walk with me, Ms. Whitehorse."

They walked down the hall, Captain Cooper's polished boots clicking on the decks. As they walked everyone gave them a wide berth. "Ms. Whitehorse, you are quite a specimen." Fen glanced at the Captain. She was at least one head taller than Fen, and her uniform was tailored to within an inch of it's life. There were no folds or creases out of place anywhere. She had a leather shoulder holster with a well oiled pistol under her left arm. Her short hair was impeccable and she wore her hat at a rakish angle. Her grin was predatory.

"Yes, Captain?" Fen wasn't sure what she meant, but had a hunch it wasn't anything good.

"Despite your... upbringing and your... own choices, you are a beacon of humanity in this galaxy. You are a skilled fighter, a shooting phenom, you're a polyglot, and an able teacher. Fenchurch Whitehorse, you are what we strive for in the Empire. You're able to go through the galaxy and show those... other sapients what humanity is all about." The captain stopped in front of a large widow and looked out. In the distance was the brownish blue orb of K'lax. "Do you know the motto of the Human Empire? Superiores sumus quia debemus 'We are better, because we have to'." She looked away from the window and continued to walk. "Fenchurch. Fen. You represent the ideals that we strive for. You are superior because you are human. You have taken the skills and abilities given to you by your birth and turned them - despite growing up among the-" her voice darkens "-Gren, despite being raised K'laxi you are human."

Uh, thank you Captain, but I'm just me." Fen's mind was reeling. What was going on?

"That's exactly right Fen. You are you. You are human. You are superior. The others out there? The Innari, the Sefigans, the Gren, the Xenni, and yes, even our old friends the K'laxi, they don't understand what it means to be human. What it means to be better."

Fen didn't say anything. What could she say? As they were walking, Fen noticed an outline in the hall. There was no door handle, and no touchpad, but there was a small stenciled sign in Gord's old language. Gord tried to teach her some, but it made no sense. She was able to read a little bit but only after she translated it to Colonic in her head. She hadn't realized Dreams was that old. In a very small font, worn with time and age it said

AI Core

An AI? Here? Fen didn't know much about the Empire but she knew they didn't like AIs. What was an AI Core room doing here, even looking as old and abandoned as it was. She was snapped back to reality by Captain Cooper stopping. "Fen, I am pleased you joined us. I think you have been a... breath of fresh atmosphere for the crew. Please consider signing on with the Imperial Navy. I have some pull back on Venus, I come from a... prominent family. I could get you fast tracked to officer. In a few years you'd probably have your own command. I'd hate to see you... waste your best years out there."

Every nerve in Fen's body told her to just nod along, but not to agree to anything. The last thing she wanted to do was join the Empire, especially after a speech like that. Fen wondered if it was supposed to sound complimentary. "Thank you for saying so Captain. I'm glad I could help out. I'll think on what you said."

She smiled broadly and lightly brushed her shoulder. "You do that, Fen. There are more benefits to the Empire than you know." She bent her head lower to be in line with Fen's. "When it's just the two of us, you can call me Crystal." She purred.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

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caffeineaddictwriter · 6 months ago

Text

You know me to well~ SOTL Hannibal lecter x f! Reader

Description: at one of his famous dinner parties you deal with a bad guest.

Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, cannibalism, murder, you being a cannibal.

Chatter and silverware cutting against plates could be heard across the dining room as Dr. Lecter's guests enjoyed their meal, oblivious to his special ingredient. Well one other in the room knew his little kitchen secret. The women who sat to his right in a black cocktail dress that fit her figure to perfection, her hair all done nicely just how he likes it, her makeup done just right. His wife. His perfect wife. His perfect wife who never left him even after that horrible dark night when she discovered his ‘lifestyle’. Now as he lifts her hand and gives it a kiss his heart still pumps with joy seeing her smile and blush at him with her big (E/C) eyes.

“Hannibal this meal is just delicious. What meat is this” one of the guests asks drawing him away from observing your eyes. “I'm afraid if I tell you, you won't eat it” he says, a silent pause in the room before everyone bursts into waves of laughter. As he returns to looking at your eyes. As he always said your eyes were his favorite piece of art, so you never minded just letting him observe. “Honestly Hannibal we all love your dinner parties” another guest said, Hannibal just smiled and nodded in thanks to her before returning to your eyes.

After all the plates are cleaned up the guests all sit in the main library with whiskey and wine chatting away. Hannibal's eyes scan the room searching for his wife finding her in a group of no more than four other women just talking. He sighs in contentment sitting with a larger group of men just discussing work. The conversation between the men must have lasted a good half hour before Hannibal was able to look back over at his wife noticing a young man had joined your group, all four ladies including his wife stood with very noticeable uncomfortable faces. Hannibal stands quickly making his way over grabbing you by the waist before the man's hand can. “Is there an issue lady's” Hannibal asks staring the man in the eyes “not anymore thank you Dr Lecter” the eldest lady said pulling the two younger girls with her as he feels his wife's place a hand on the side of his chest.

The stranger backs up before speed walking into the group of men to avoid Hannibal's gaze. “Are you okay my darling” he asks looking down at her holding her closer. “yes, thank you dear” she says before giving him a peck on the cheek. “i would feel more content if you stayed with me for the rest of the evening” he says looking down at you. “of course,darling” you smile happily letting your husband lead you back to the group he was talking to.

Later that night all guests but one have left, Hannibal bids his farewells to his friend. “Darling are you coming to bed?” you ask from the top of the stairs “i need to finish something first darling” he responds before heading back into the kitchen. He expects there to be the man that had been bugging you earlier tied up how Hannibal had left him, instead he is met with perfectly chopped meat and no blood to be seen. A smile fills his face before he stacks them into the fridge.

You pull your dress off as Hannibal walks in with a smile on his face. “you dealt with tomorrows dinner i see” he laughs wrapping his arms around your bare frame. “yes well he was a problem to us both, and i know how you like your meat fresh and cut properly” you say smiling up at him. “you know me to well” he says before leaning down to kiss you

#x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x yn #headcanon #anthony hopkins hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal #the silence of the lambs

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olderthannetfic · 1 year ago

Note

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/736464662612344832/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic735990124795#notes

I based the language used in (both) asks on how the author had written on her social medias before during and after her books became available, and her stances to the things she herself believes in. As in, the author herself has called herself a diaspora, she herself calls herself 1st/2nd gen diaspora. From what I remember she was born as diaspora but mentioned that she spent most times in her home country so she herself used the 1st/2nd gen label. The author is an American diaspora though, if that means anything.

All my arguments about her book come from how the author put herself and her writing on a pedestal, mentioning herself how she'd use her status to write, with a standard she herself decided should be the goal. I can definitely understand how some people got the idea that I held "higher expectations of a POC authors writing when it comes to racism" or something because I didn't make it clear where my criticism came from, but no I did not do so because of her background.

It's a case of "I'll criticize people who claim they're a better writer while punching down on everyone else for doing it wrong, and then claiming they'll write a book that's going to tackle the issues of racism/sexism/queerphobia/ableism much better than any other books out there, with an incredibly progressive main character and hold them to the standard they themselves set up but within the book. But then ends up not only failing, but unironically making the lead have an unquestioned racist view. " ... Just read the other follow-up submission, I explained with more detailed what the issue in the writing and framing was. https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/736443105288519680/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost73599012479#notes

It was a very "I'm not racist but..." part of the story. Like I said, it could have been a really good exploration that even people who're progressive can still hold prejudicial views and then realizing they hold them, especially with how hard it sticks out amongst the rest of the story. But it just wasn't and it felt like the authors own views were reflected in how she wrote. And with how casually it's just left unquestioned in the book it really leaves a bad taste. I will even admit that at first I was intrigued and thought this was going to be a part of the leads journey. It wasn't.

This was a case of the author basically saying "Everything I believe is reflected in this book" all throughout, and then really messing up distancing the artist from the art by her own design.

On the American accusations: I'm not American and I don't live in America, but I also am a diaspora in the current country I live in. Only thing I would give you is that we don't use "diaspora" but that's more because I don't live in an Anglophone country, and the word used here is a synonym for "foreigner". I thought it was fairly obvious I have ESL syndrome lol. English isn't even my second language more like E3<L

In fact, if you hadn't been raised by this US-centric mentality of "there's whites and then there's POC and these are the only two kinds of categories in the world," you'd know that EVERYBODY hates EVERYBODY.

Not American. Still not under any illusion that that's the case. I've read history books. Really not understanding where you got the idea from that I had from my one description of specifically ONE person's writing. "Racial and ethnic hate is not something that only people born with blonde hair, lily-white skin, and light blue eyes can make others suffer through." Yay, we agree on something. As in, I 100% agree with you on this. I know I could probably just drop the name of the author and the books. But honestly I did some contemplation and there are two things that make me not do it. I'm just an anon, I have no reputation or name to keep clean or uphold, and I've been on the internet long enough and experienced enough of the absolute senseless dogpilling creatives get especially these days with how popular review bombings are, direct attacks and other harassment, and the not good environment social media has created for creatives misstepping, which includes twitter/x, tiktok, and youtube. Even if I believe that out of 100 people on here none would go and do that, the 101th person might decide to be an ass about it. The second reason, and the main reason I didn't just mention the book from the start is that the author herself has removed most mentions of her books on all her social media, they're still available but since it seems she's removed herself from her own writing I'll just respect it.

Tbh I gave enough info in my opinion that someone could probably find the books if they made a real attempt. The issue I mentioned has been handled by some of the people who reviewed the book.

As always, saying the name of the book will get people arguing about whether they agree with this interpretation of this book.

Not sharing the name will get people remembering either the last time some sanctimonious author was annoying or the last time some clueless reviewer missed the point, depending on which has annoyed them more recently.

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xx-just-c-xx · 1 year ago

Text

Prologue [ Welcome to the Villains' World ] Chapter three

Tomorrow morning she already wake up and making breakfast for her, Grim and all her Pokémon.

She yells. “Guys!! it’s breakfast!!”

All at once her Pokémon came into the kitchen. She divided the Pokemon food between the 10 of them, then sighed. “I need that garden done today afternoon or tonight” She said as Grim walked into the kitchen.

“Uh, I’m hungryyyyyyyy!!” Grim said still half asleep.

“Good morning Grim” She greeted.

Grim smells the food, so he fully woke up and saw all the other pokemon that Grim didn't see yesterday.

“Nya!! You have so many monsters!?” Grim said out loud.

Just then, Crowley walked in with a very concerned look on his face.

“Are you aware that almost half of the garden have a lot of blue rocks and a lot of tree and a big river as well, what did happen last night?”

"Ah. I think some my pokemon did overboard with the landscape for my other that'll come later" Florida answered him.

“Very well, did you sleep well?”

“No!! When I went to bed, the mattress fell through the frame! And worse yet, I got woken up by ghosts!” Grim complained.

"I slept well" Florida answer Crowley.

Crowley smiled. “I am delighted to hear that you’ve adjusted so well, despite being sent to another world! Now, moving on let us discuss your assignment for today. Your job today is to clean the campus. The campus is vast, and without magic, it'd be quite a herculean task to clean it all. Therefore, today I’ll have you focus on the area from the front Gates to the library. I do expect that you’ll keep a close eye on Grim, lest he causes another incident like yesterday”

Florida nodding. But Grim seems like he doesn't like it.

“Don't fail me. You and a few of your…. Pokemon, can eat lunch in the cafeteria. I await the fruits of your labor."

The headmage headed out as Grim grumpily crossed his arms.

“Hrmph. I ain’t cleaning nothing! I'm here to study magic so I can be blasting off some spells left and right! Like BAM!!”

“After we clean, we can study in the library.”

Grim grumbled as Florida choose six Pokemon to come with her.

"Sylveon and Gogoat is coming with 100%, since we gonna clean so Cinccino, Jolteon and Espeon will come and Vaporeon too" She take her side bag and put on belt.

"Gardevoir, you'll be in charge taking care this dorm, also plant some berries too" Florida give Gardevoir a container that contained all berries.

Gardevoir nods her head letting Florida know everything will be ok.

Florida have everything she need and Gogoat already in front of the dorm wait for Florida to ride him. And Sylveon also there as well. Florida quickly jump on top of Gogoat and they go to the Main Street, towards the seven different statues of various figures.

She let Cinccino, Jolteon and Espeon clean the statues. Cinccino dust the statues and then make Vaporeon give them water by using Hydro Pump.

“Wow, so this is Main Street, huh? This is incredible!” Grim admired. “I didn’t get to see much of it yesterday. What’s the deal with these seven statues? All their faces look pretty scary”

Florida look and studied the statues "Maybe someone who really important in this land?" It make Florida remember one of her traveling in Galar, that one statue, when she visits someone.

“This lady here” Grim pointed at the statue at the end of the line on the right. It was of a large woman, wearing a dress and a crown, and holding a heart scepter. “Looks like she’s got some real anger management issues”

“You don’t know the Queen of Hearts?” a voice joined in.

The 8 of them turned towards the owner of the voice and saw a boy standing behind them. He in his uniform make him a student. A ginger with bright scarlet eyes and he had a heart over his left eye.

“The Queen of Hearts?” Grim asked. “Is she some kinda big deal?”

“She was a queen who lived in a mazelike garden of roses long, long ago.” The ginger explained. “She was a strict woman who prized order above all. She wouldn’t tolerate a rose being off-color, or her playing-card soldiers being out of step. She basically ruled over a kingdom of madness, but not one of her subjects dared to defy her. You wanna know why? Because the punishment for breaking a rule was immediate decapitation!”

“Sylveon” [That's a bit messed up]

"Jolteon" [I agree dad]

"Yeah I agree with Sylveon" Florida said.

“Wah! That is seriously messed up!” Grim whimpered.

But apparently, the ginger boy thought different. “Pretty cool, right? I’m a big fan. I mean, who would bother to obey a queen that was kind all the time?”

“Yeah true. A leader needs to be strong.” Grim nodded.

“Strong yes. But sounds like she’s abusing her power, that what a tyrant would do. Because if you try to rule only with fear, there would be nothing to stop people from rebelling against you once the fear is gone"

“Anyway, but puttin’ that aside… Who’re you, now?” Grim finally decided to ask.

“Name’s Ace. I’m a first-year student here, as of… today! Pleased to meetcha!” he introduced himself while he held out his hand.

Florida thinking should she shake his hand or not, but Grim didn’t wait for her to talk.

“I’m Grim! I’m a prodigy who’s planning to be, like the greatest mage who ever lived. Then there’s my far less interesting henchwoma—” Sylveon make Grim shut his mouth by using one of his ribbon because he couldn’t stand still while Grim being disrespectful to his trainer(his mom).

Florida didn’t mind that, she herself was getting a little bit fed up with the Grim’s disrespect too. And then she studying the ginger boy in front of her.

His smile was too wide to be genuine, he looked amused rather than pleased and she could see the mischief in his eyes. Her instincts were telling that this ginger is a troublemaker.

While Florida was studying him, Ace made a quick observation. She had this aura of elegance around her and maybe some intimidate aura as well She was average height, her white hair is really long, her eyes were a very light shade of blue. And her odds but also special glasses that make out of gold. She looks beautiful he thinks this to himself.

Florida narrowed her eyes, gave him the doubt look, she slowly reached out her and shook his hand. “The name Florida Lumia. Pleasure to meet you” She then pointed at Sylveon the Intertwining Pokémon “This is my partner Sylveon” Pointed at Gogoat who right now is sleeping "That's Gogoat my ride pokemon" Then she pointed at the other 4 "The chinchilla-like creature is Cinccino, one with yellow fur is Jolteon, one with lilac fur is Espeon and one that shares physical traits with both aquatic and land animals is Vaporeon"

"Florida Lumia?” Ace said as he shook her hand, “Huh. Name’s got an odd ring to it.”

“Maybe because I’m not from here.” She retracted her hand and look at Grim, who finally got free from Sylveon. “And I’m not anyone’s henchman.”

Grim waved his hand at her carelessly and pointed at the next statue beside the Queen. Which seemed like some type of variation of Pyroar with a scar on his left eye. “Whatever. So tell me, Ace. Is that lion with a scar in the eye a famous ruler too?”

And they did this history lesson for 10 minutes, back and forth. Grim pointed at a statue and asked who it was and Ace talked about them, while Florida just listened. Normally she loved to learning about something new but each of these people seems like terrible people. One was a Pyroar with a scar that got his throne through schemes, one was a half Octillery opportunist loan with a half Gorebyss, one was a backstabbing that only got his power from a magic lamp, one who poisoned the people that are prettier than her, and the last two was pretty okay, the lord of the underworld and the Thorn Fairy that could turn into a dragon.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Ace said suddenly his smile turned to a wicked one. “Not like some weasel over here.”

“Myah?!” Grim was caught off guard.

“Pfft… Ah ha ha!” Ace pointed at them and laughed at them. “I can’t hold it back anymore! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

Florida just thought ‘here it is why he's here.’ She saw this coming, still it was annoyed beyond compare. She just crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at him, make him feel a little bit intimidate.

“Come on,” he kept laughing and laughing. “You’re the ones who turned orientation into such a fiasco, right? The girl who was summoned by the Dark Mirror who can’t use magic, and the monster that no one summoned at all. It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!”

“H-hey! You don’t gotta be a jerk about it!” Grim gritted his teeth and his ears burned hotter with anger. He was basically growling just like the rest of the Pokemon.

“So in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now you’re janitors? Ah ha ha! SO lame!” Ace was still running his mouth unaware of the trouble he put himself in.

“What did you just call me?!”

“And you’re both so clueless you don’t even know who the Great seven are. Not one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the Academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten? Anyway, just thought I’d tease you a bit. And man am I glad I did. It’s been a blast! Unlike you, I actually have classes to get to, so I’ll let you get back to picking up trash. Bye!”

Florida who right now stand still didn't move a bit because she just got a flashback when she doesn't have her special glasses. All her pokemon saw that their master is having a bad flashback so all of them go to Florida.

“Myuh-uh! You ain't walkin' away from me! It's too late for that! Myaaaaah!” Grim use ember on Ace.

"Whoa!" Ace said while blocked the fire with his magic pen.

Grim smirked. “No one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire, and his henchmens! I’m gonna make that explodey-head of yours explode all over again!” and he let out another ember.

Ace was quick enough to run from it, “Explodey-head?!” he asked now very irritated. “You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts. You wanna talk hair, huh? I’m gonna shave you like a toy poodle!”

Before anything could happen next. Florida already came back to her. "Jolteon use Thunder Wave on those two"

Jolteon launches a weak electricity make those 2 paralyzes.

"Ah- I couldn't move"

"Nya!! What's this?"

As both just stop moving and fall down, there's some small electricity around those two, it a sigh that they're paralyzes.

"I command Jolteon to paralyzes you 2 before anything bad gonna happen" Florida answer and walking close to Grim.

“What is going on here?” the headmaster come and saw the 2 on the ground.

｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡-｡⁠◕⁠-◕⁠｡

Chapter two, Chapter four

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland x oc #twisted wonderland oc #pokemon x twisted wonderland #pokémon #twisted wonderland crossover #twst florida #twst grim #twst crowley #twst ace

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floatingcatacombs · 1 year ago

Text

It’s the Tar Taking Over That Came Unexpected

12 Days of Aniblogging 2023, Day 2

Back when it was a frustratingly rare Wii exclusive, I braved a storm to hunt down a used copy of Xenoblade Chronicles, and it still surpassed my every expectation. So finally sinking my teeth into Xenoblade Chronicles X earlier this year felt right.

This was a Wii U game and it’s still nuts that this was a Wii U game. The only change I made when emulating it was bumping up the internal rendering resolution, and it’s crazy how good it still looks. The highest-fidelity games I play are FromSoft so my frame of reference is busted, but even still, it’s frequently breathtaking. Monolith Soft has always had a reputation for building impressive open worlds on underpowered hardware, and their first foray into HD might be their greatest feat. Or maybe I’m just easily impressed by pretty skies. Emulated at 1080p 60FPS, the experience really clicks, with snappy menus, fast loading times, and the ability to alt-tab to the map on the gamepad. For once I didn't feel like I was missing out at all by not playing on original hardware.

After starting a new game you're immediately dumped into a character creation screen, which means I already have to navigate an old stupid censorship debate. See, there was a whole internet shitstorm back in 2015 when this game released stateside because the English version removed the bust slider from the character creator. This was the era of GamerGate and “localization versus translation” and Fire Emblem Fates taking out a waifu-touching minigame and everything surrounding Tokyo Mirage Sessions – things got really heated for a second! In hindsight, it was weird mixture of niche game publishers misreading their target audiences and hypervigilant right-wing provocateurs gearing up for larger culture wars, using titty games as a nexus for radicalizing nerds.

Things have cooled down a lot since then, as Japanese games generally release unaltered these days, rendering it a non-issue. When controversies do happen, it’s not in Nintendo's court anymore, it’s usually Valve removing Japanese visual novels from their store page in an act of laughable double standards. Anyways, thanks to the wonders of PC emulation and memory editors, I was able to restore the boob slider to Xenoblade Chronicles X, and valiantly used it to make my character flat.

XCX’s design sensibilities are a pretty sharp contrast from the direction the series went afterwards, instead dealing in guns, gritty sci-fi, and a more realistic color palette. The storms and forlorn mecha on the box art tell you all you need to know. It’s all very western, with the designers definitely taking cues from Halo and Mass Effect in a lot of places. The hub city is also based on Los Angeles, further cementing the American influence in everything but the mechas.

Ultimately, I think this all worked out well. The original Wii release of Xenoblade Chronicles isn’t particularly “anime”, after all. Its aesthetic sensibilities are closer to Final Fantasy X than, say, any given Tales. Xenoblade Chronicles 2 and 3, as well as the Switch remake of the first game, hew much closer to games like Genshin in terms of colors and character proportions, but Xenoblade X takes the original’s artstyle and places it in a more serious context. I’m glad the series didn’t commit to this direction (it would have gotten bland fast), but it’s cool that we got it exactly once. Despite the more western stylings though, this is still fundamentally a niche anime game, much more so than the first Xenoblade. There’s titty armor and fanservice outfits as quest rewards, a young moe girl in the main cast, and the occasional pervy sidequest. A lot of the localization conflict may have been Nintendo attempting to clean up Xenoblade X in order to pitch it as a mainstream release at a time when the Wii U really needed a hit. While it’s a solid game, it was never going to be able to appeal to a very large audience.

Also, the story’s a bit of a mess. The tone is all over the place, with both comic relief and serious moments frequently failing to land. What starts off as a surprisingly grimdark sci-fi about the last remaining humans trying to survive on an alien planet as their crashed generation ship-city runs out of power quickly morphs into Star Wars levels of goofy aliens. Plot twist after plot twist ensues, defusing a lot of the tension because you know that they’re just going to pull something even crazier out next. Though the main story struggles, the emergent narrative of New Los Angeles is actually pretty good. A lot of the player’s side questing is dedicated to resolving interpersonal conflicts and helping make the city feel like a real home for everyone. Gradually, NLA begins taking on alien immigrants and the mutual fish-out-of-water situation between human and alien refugees leads to some funny moments and the occasional surprisingly thoughtful quest about cultural tolerance.

But for the most part, the story takes a backseat to exploring planet Mira. Through the gameplay loop I’ve come to understand Xenoblade X as something of a single-player MMO. The combat system is based around positioning, auto-attacks, skills that go on cooldown, and extremely customizable character classes. There’s a nightmarish amount of skill trees to keep track off, to the point where I’d forget about them alone until I was having trouble with a fight, and then remember an entire system I’d forgotten to take advantage of. There are item collections to fill out and side quests of all flavors and secret areas and difficult raid bosses yada yada yada…

Okay I can’t hold off from discussing the music any longer. The combat theme for Xenoblade X is the stuff of legends. Terrible, terrible legends.

Putting vocals in your RPG’s regular battle music is a bold move. You really have to make sure you knocked it out of the park, because singing is going to grate on the player far more quickly than any instrumental. Because of this, the battle themes of Persona 5, The World Ends With You, and Get In The Car, Loser! are all something of a flex. Black Tar is not that. I’m just going to link the song, because it really has to heard to be understood.

youtube

Xenoblade X’s battle theme starts off strong, the grim sci-fi tone clearly communicated through the moody synths. Soon enough the guitars come crashing in, giving way to a distinctly nu metal sound. That stylistic choice alone pissed people off in 2015, to which I say grow up, it’s great. But if you let the battle run on for 50 seconds, someone starts rapping.

Black Tar has some of the most nonsensical lyrics ever put to pen, delivered in the jankiest way possible, with words just kind of crammed in without any regard to flow. It’s not even a case of “non-proficient English speaker comes up with shoddy lyrics” as occasionally happens with Japanese songs. Every single word of this is an act of malicious fluency, and if I singled out all the lines I had questions about, I’d be here all day. Opening the first verse with “We’re stuck on a whole different planet” tricks the listener into thinking that the lyrics will to tie into the game’s events and setting, but this is a fool’s errand. The titular tar has no in-game corollary, so to make any sense of it you have to go metaphorical and claim that maybe it stands for losing your squadmates and giving up hope. That's still pretty flimsy! Maybe it really is just be about heroin.

Eventually though, we reach the chorus, and it’s actually a great hook! Except for the fact that it’s sung by a Japanese singer in English. The lyrics were clearly written with no regard for which syllables he’d have difficulty with, and making this guy utter the phrase “Black tar’lll” was an open act of cruelty.

In a 2015 interview, Black Tar rapper and lyricist David Whittaker brings up that the he wrote the words for his first video game song in about two hours, going for “just foolishness”. I imagine his work here was a similar situation.

It’s so, so easy to harp on Black Tar. Everyone did at release, and everyone who hasn’t played the game still does. The thing is, it’s impossible to keep that antagonism up when you’ve got an 80-hour game ahead of you where this is the standard battle theme the whole way through. For the sake of your own sanity, you have to learn to love Black Tar, and pretty much everyone who finishes the game comes around to it. Much to the chagrin of my girlfriend, I quote Black Tar constantly, with less of a sense of irony each time. Eventually, you too will find yourself shouting along with David Whittaker as he raps about being on a sea of dark matter. And of course, the instrumental was always a banger if you weren’t a coward. The theme for New LA also gets a lot of flak for its gibberish vocal samples and St. Anger snares, but I’ve always been a fan and think it holds up great as an endless-looping hub area theme. It’s so…. Sawano zeitgeisty.

The entire soundtrack is actually a Hiroyuki Sawano joint, and he does a pretty good job. It very much all sounds like the kind of music he’s known for, with the exception of the overworld themes, which instead try to mimic the compositions of the first Xenoblade Chronicles. Primordia’s theme is an excellent response to the first game’s Gaur Plain, with a more techy and ominous tone that nevertheless still evokes the sense of grand exploration ahead.

The edgy atmosphere, the washed out palette, the Sawano tunes….Xenoblade Chronicles X is extremely of its time, in a way that comes across as deeply charming 8 years later. It’s kind of terrifying that something can already be an early 2010s period piece! The Sawano music alone will shoot you back to the days of Kill La Kill and Aldnoah Zero, when Gen Urobuchi was absolutely everywhere and the default crap anime genre was magic school instead of isekai. The mere idea of early 2010s nostalgia sets off alarms in my head, but it’s definitely real, and will only become more of a thing in the next few years. Brace yourselves for the flow of time.

Last, but certainly not least, the mechas! They’re one of the main reasons I tried the game out in the first place. Giant robots are often part of Xenoblade worldbuilding, but they don’t really factor into the gameplay. X is the exception. From the first preview trailers to the title screen to their first step into New LA, the player is made to want a Skell. They’re so cute! The Skells were designed by Takayuki Yanase, one of the people who worked on Gundam 00, and I can see the similarities in the combination of curves and blocky elements. There’s quite a few mecha otaku who work at the NLA hangar out of love for the Skells. Most of them are women, a detail that made me really happy!

Adding even more to the player’s desire is the fact that Xenoblade X withholds Skells for a very long time. You have to make it more than halfway through the story and substantially explore the first three continents on foot before receiving your piloting license. And it’s Xenoblade, so these places are massive. Even with an extremely generous jump, you’ll run into countless clifftops out of reach. They really make you work for it, but at least the core gameplay loop of exploring to setting up waypoints and mining devices is a lot of fun on its own (I was curious if the plot would ever get around to problematizing the resource-extraction gameplay loop, but no dice).

party members next to the Skell for scale purposes

When you finally get a Skell about forty hours into the game, everything changes. One of the major challenges facing mecha games is getting the scale right –it’s pretty easy for the giant robot to feel human-sized if all the player is ever doing is piloting. Xenoblade X avoids this by making your human pace painfully clear before giving you a ten-meter robot to traverse those same landscapes. It’s night and day how much more quickly you can navigate. Skells are also wildly stronger than characters on the ground, and being able to take on behemoth creatures as well as pulverize the human-scale enemies you’ve been fighting all this time keeps the scale relevant. It provides a real power fantasy and makes them feel believable in-setting. Being able to get in and out of your Skell at will goes a long way towards making it truly feel like yours, and this mechanic also acts as something of an on-the-fly difficulty modifier for the remainder of the game. A few chapters later you get a flight pack for your Skell, and the world opens up all over again.

not pictured: the j-pop earworm that plays every time you start flying

After spending so much time hanging out with the mecha pervert mechanic girlies in the NLA hangar, the back half of Xenoblade Chronicles X finally lets you be one of the mecha pervert girlies. Customization is on the lighter side, as you can’t mix and match body parts like in Armored Core, but there’s still plenty of color customization and weapons fine-tuning to do. I totally fell in love with my robots, and that alone makes it a victory of a mecha game.

A new song plays during Skell combat, and it’s…. more verses of Black Tar!! There truly is no escape. The backing has more of an EDM sound to it, and the lyrics are even more laughable than before. “Shoot them with your guns” still gets me every time. And yet, I would be lying if I said I’ve never headbanged to the part about being stuck on a different planet. You learn to love these things.

So that’s Xenoblade X. It’s a weird-ass game, a real triumph but also absolutely the wrong thing for Nintendo to have to put out in 2015. It’s easily the most impressive Wii U exclusive and I’m glad Monolith Soft took this detour. You’d be disappointed in it if you went in with purely the expectation of a mecha game, but as a Xenoblade fan who’s been gradually falling deeper into mecha, it was a great genre blend. Xenoblade X’s servers will shut down next year, and while I didn’t partake in any of that (the multiplayer elements seem fairly minor anyways), it will be the end of an era for sure. Just in time to start fondly reminiscing.

#12 days of anime #xenoblade x #xenoblade chronicles x

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