#this is how i keep track of the seasons tbh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theteasetwrites · 7 months

Text

Begin Again

Chapter 2: Ami ou Ennemi?

❧ Media: The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon ❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 1 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: violence, scary situation ❧ Word Count: 4.8k

❧ In This Chapter: On the road west, things take a turn when the first people you and Daryl come into contact with in France turn out to be a bit less welcoming than you'd hoped they would be. Meanwhile, a watchful pair of eyes just might be what saves you.

❧ A/N: Okay so this was going to cover the whole rest of the first episode but I didn't want to cram it all into one giant chapter, so here's a smaller (kinda boring tbh) chapter! This chapter is necessary because it leads up to the kick-off of the storyline in Chapter 3, which I promise will be MUCH more interesting (and have way better Reader x Daryl interactions, of course). But for now, please enjoy this chapter! I am having so much fun writing for the spin-off ahhh

Carried by a limp and an aimless hope still lingering in your heart, you walked.

In fact, you walked for days. About five total, you were sure. Well, you couldn’t be too sure. Everything was a blur, and you’d given up keeping track with the tally marks you’d scribbled on the edge of the map. All you could bother to rely on now was the natural movement of the earth, the sun rising on one shoulder, setting on the other. Then a few hours of sleepless sleep, then walking again, through what seemed to be a once sparsely populated countryside, amongst a collage of ancient ruins.

From your navigation, you’d determined that the snow-capped mountains you walked just at the base of were those of the Pyrenees. For miles you walked along those foothills of thick green shrubbery and ever-expanding stretches of woods, through which a wide gravel road snaked and occasionally branched into small hamlets or mysterious medieval ruins you didn’t care too much to research.

As your eyes squinted hard at the map you’d come to loathe the now taunting familiarity of, you felt your steps slow to a halt, crushing the ancient gravel underneath you with a dying enthusiasm. Daryl followed behind you, himself preoccupied as well, but by the wound on his arm, which had been festering for almost two days now.

You’d been tending to it, of course. Daryl could’ve done so himself, but you hardly trusted him to be as diligent with the care of his own injuries as you were.

The good news seemed to be that the burn did not inflict a fever upon him, or have any other kind of deadly effect. Still, as Daryl put so eloquently, “It hurts like a son of a bitch.”

You turned around, approaching him as he studied the burn, in the distinctive shape of a handprint. Taking his arm in your hand, you frowned at the festering wound, still a little too raw for your liking.

It seemed to be healing a little, though, with only slight accumulations of yellowish fluid around the parts where flesh had been burnt. That was good. It meant the wound was draining properly, exuding serous liquid that would help the flesh to heal and eventually scar over. But the inflammation, the redness, worried you.

“It’s not purulent,” you said. “So that’s good.”

Daryl looked at you, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t have to speak to convey his confusion at the SAT vocabulary word.

“There’s no pus,” you clarified. “No green drainage… But we should cover it up again.”

Nearby, you settled by an abandoned car, mangled and ravaged by time. It was a good cover for the moment as you sifted through a first aid bag you’d scavenged yesterday. Thank God you had, otherwise his arm might’ve looked much worse than it had.

As he knelt beside you, you set out a roll of gauze, then uncapped your canteen of water. Daryl couldn’t complain too much about you using the water to wash his wound now, considering how much it was beginning to burn.

The sting was worse than yesterday as you poured the cool liquid over it. You yourself winced at the sound of Daryl’s hiss, knowing full well that his tolerance for pain was much higher than anyone you knew, so that burn must’ve been agonizing.

Spinning the gauze around his arm, you wrapped the burn tight. He sighed softly in temporary relief, but he could already feel the festering begin to return.

The back of your hand situated itself against his forehead, brushing back the loose hairs as you did so.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. He was warm. Daryl always ran a little warm, of course. You’d often referred to him as a human heater. But this was off for Daryl, warmer than you were used to feeling.

It terrified you.

The thought that this burn could be akin to a bite was one which haunted you the last two nights, keeping you ten times more aware of Daryl’s state at all times.

You’d seen plenty of people in the process of turning. You’d known the signs. It was hard to tell now. Daryl didn’t have enough of a fever to render him fatigued, but it was enough to worry you.

“How do you feel?” you asked, still brushing back the hairs that framed his face, as if fixing his hair could somehow improve his condition.

“Like shit.” He took a sip of water from your canteen. A small sip, of course, lest he leave you without enough water to keep you moving.

“You just need some rest,” you said, watching as he began to lift himself to his feet, with half his body weight supported by the spear that had served largely as his walking stick.

Clearly, he wasn’t going to be resting anytime soon.

“I’ll rest when the sun goes down,” he replied gruffly, while a gust of wind began to blow his hair in wild patterns across his face. You rose up, too, despite your body’s inescapable urge to sleep right there on the gravel. “We still got a few hours of sunlight… Best to keep movin’.”

With a strained grunt, he reached for his spear, pressing it into the dirt below as he started to lift himself, using the spear as leverage.

The day Daryl would listen to you when you asked him to rest was the day Hell would freeze over, but you couldn’t fight him. After all, you weren’t itching to stay put in any one place for too long. You had to keep moving, to try to find some kind of way back home.

You raised yourself to your feet alongside him, reaching into your backpack to tuck the gauze and your canteen back inside. But there was a slight tremble in your hand, and a racing of your heart as your body reacted to the intense burn of a distant stare before your mind even could.

Daryl felt it, too.

Practically in sync, both of you turned to face the direction of the stare. There was a cliff just ahead, surrounded by lush shrubbery. The distance was great enough to ease your paranoia, but still too close for comfort.

There was a figure atop the cliff, looking down. Well, you supposed so, despite not being able to make out the figure’s face. What you could see was a reddish cowl encircling their head, but the rest was simply the shape of a human, standing still, watching.

It sent a shiver down your spine, the inescapable fear of being watched suddenly taking hold over you. It was something you’d known since childhood, with frequent nightmares of a decrepit elderly man cupping his hands as he looked in through the window of your childhood bedroom, smiling wide at you. Despite your dream self’s attempts to escape, you couldn’t move, you could only cry as the man stared at you, watching you.

But of course, that man was only a figment of your imagination, a childhood fear that stuck with you all through your life. You hadn’t thought of that man in years, but now, feeling the eyes of a stranger on you, you felt it again. Only this was real. Well, perhaps it was a mirage, induced by the emptiness in your stomach and the fog in your head, but it did not matter. There was nothing you could do. Maybe that was what was so frightening about it.

“C’mon.” Daryl’s hand brushed your forearm, dislodging you from that momentary stupor. Fortunately, he seemed much less perturbed by the mysterious apparition, though he couldn’t deny the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Keep movin’.”

So you did, following behind him by just a few steps, until he stopped abruptly shortly after, examining the road sign standing before him. On its pole, a small piece of paper was plastered to it, with handmade strokes of black paint spelling out three words: DIEU VOUS AIME.

Your curiosity piqued, you quickly shrugged off one strap of your backpack, reaching back to unzip the largest pouch and grab the French-English dictionary you’d so wisely picked up back at the boat in Marseille.

Looking between the pages and the sign, you flipped through the book, until the phrase appeared among the list of D’s.

Daryl looked at you in waiting as you let out a slightly amused huff.

“God loves you,” you said.

“Pfft.”

An hour or so down the road, and the eerie light of the dying afternoon had begun its domain.

Sleep was the new objective, somewhere to hang your hats for the night that would soon be upon you.

Just ahead, beyond a desolate field of tall, green grass, was a lone building, decrepit and overgrown, with a thick, swirling layer of fog rolling over the ground at its base. Not particularly inviting, but it could be a good place for shelter.

The place was dilapidated, to the point where you could hardly tell what it had once been, but there was just enough shelter to provide some protection from the elements, and the dead. It looked as though there had once been a fire, as the walls were blackened and opened up into a courtyard through a section of destroyed wall.

As you stepped carefully, quietly, over fallen beams and overgrown twining vines, you set sight on a string tied between a bush and the wall, stretching across the walkway with rusty tin cans tied to the twine. Either someone had once called this place home, or someone still did.

Stepping over the trap, Daryl went first, with you following shortly behind, alertness as high as it possibly could be given the famished state you were in.

A rustling from your right startled you. Daryl moved somewhat quickly to peer around the edge of the wall into the open courtyard—a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, standing by an overgrown well and pouring the water from the bucket into a tin pail.

Daryl didn’t get a very detailed look at the woman nor the area, but he could tell that he didn’t want anything to do with it.

You weren’t so sure, however. People were exactly who you needed. You wouldn’t be able to get home without people, and maybe this woman knew English. She could help you, somehow.

But Daryl backed up, too fast for you to notice that he was about to activate the tripwire just behind him.

As the cans rattled together, making a loud clanging sound, you almost felt a bit of relief.

Looking back towards the woman, you began to step forward, ahead of Daryl, who followed rather reluctantly.

Unsure of what to say as you met the woman’s gaze, coming further into the pale light of the diminishing day, you raised your hands up in a gesture of peace which you hoped was universal. Daryl followed suit, moving close behind you, despite his instinctual urge to stand in front of you. It took a great deal of willpower not to, but he figured you were possibly more friendly looking than him, with the huge spear he used as a walking stick.

“Bonjour,” was the only word you could make out, the rest was a blur of very beautiful-sounding gibberish. From an archway leading further into the building behind the woman came an elderly man hobbling in on a cane. So far, the first two French people you’d met turned out to be rather unintimidating, which was a good sign.

The two of you kept moving forward, perhaps more out of confusion than curiosity, but a part of you just wanted some semblance of human interaction. As much as you loved Daryl and his company, it was a sight for sore eyes to come face-to-face with another woman, even if you couldn’t understand anything she said.

But she seemed friendly enough, raising her hand in a wave as she carried the pail across the way, coming closer, but never too close. Finally, she spoke another word you could understand: “Madame? Monsieur?”

You turned to look at Daryl, whose face looked confounded, bordering on worried.

As per usual, you’d have to be the more sociable one.

“I’m sorry,” you began speaking, despite your fear that speaking in English might be a waste of breath. “We don’t understand you.”

On the contrary, the woman seemed… excited.

“Ay!” she exclaimed, the old man now right behind her as they slowly but surely moved closer. “You Americans? And I speak English very good!” Her mouth formed into a wide smile. So far, so good. “What’s crackin’, noobs?”

Despite your slight confusion at her use of the colloquial term, one you had not heard since you were in college, you smiled back, nodding.

The woman spoke another French term, and waved her hand, gesturing for you to come closer. You did so, despite Daryl’s hesitation as he looked at you. He didn’t have to speak or even sign to indicate what he thought: I don’t trust them.

But it didn’t matter whether either of you trusted them or not. They had food. They must’ve, as they looked to be pretty settled here, at least for the night.

He followed your lead, stepping faster to match your pace as you moved closer, further into the courtyard.

“My, uh… grandfather, he hurt the ankle” the woman spoke again, carrying her pail of water to a gently roaring fire. Around it were a few bags and crates used as seats. A modest setup, but comforting nonetheless. “Only… Only small English, him.” She gestured towards her grandfather, whose eyes were covered by a black cloth wrapped around his head. Still, he waved in your general direction, then started to speak.

“Hello,” he said.

You smiled, your heart beginning to soften at the sight of the poor elderly man. You always did have a soft spot for older people, one which Daryl feared would make you a little too eager to spare your medical supplies.

“Hello,” you spoke back.

Daryl said nothing.

The woman’s face turned more serious now. “You got medical?” You did not answer, unsure of what to say. While you did have it, you weren’t so sure you’d give it away on a whim. You already had one old man to take care of—Daryl. “We trade you for apple or, um, uh… a rabbit, maybe.”

“Very good rabbit,” chimed in the old man.

Daryl heard rabbit, and suddenly he was walking past you, coming closer to the woman as he slung his backpack off his shoulders.

The man was always food-motivated, afterall.

Setting his pack on the ground, he kneeled as he rummaged for the first aid kit. For a moment, he held it up, then tossed it underhand towards the woman.

“Merci,” said the old man.

“Merci,” the woman repeated, the first aid kit now in her hands. She pointed towards a wooden crate just a few yards away. “Food there.”

Daryl did not hesitate, hurriedly crossing over to the crate as if the offer would be taken away at any second. You followed suit, coming up behind him and taking the handful of shiny, red apples that he held out to you, while he himself bit into one and chewed it hungrily.

“So,” the woman continued, but for a moment, you couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own chewing as you bit into an apple. “Where are you going to?”

This time, Daryl answered before you even had a chance to speak. The fact that they had given you food must’ve warmed him up a little bit.

“Back where we came from,” he said matter-of-factly, looking up at the woman to address her, then returning to gathering as many apples in his hands as he could.

“Across the ocean?” questioned the woman again.

“Yeah,” Daryl answered.

As he stood up, you both looked curiously at the woman, who spoke something to the old man in their native language. They appeared to be laughing, too. You wondered, in that self-conscious way the two of you shared, if they were making fun of you. Not that it mattered terribly, since the idea of someone making fun of you was nothing compared to what most people in this world would do without any hesitation. If subtle ridiculing was the worst of what you got out of these people, you’d consider yourselves lucky.

With a huff, the woman sat herself down on an upside down crate, whilst holding the skewered rabbit that had been roasting over the fire. Your mouth practically watered at the sight, which must’ve meant you were truly on the verge of starving. It took a lot for you to want to eat a rabbit.

“I’m Maribelle,” she said with a smile. Next, she pointed to her grandfather. “Um, he Guillaume. So maybe we go together, you know?”

That piqued your interest, but Daryl moved behind you, taking the apples to his pack and almost hurriedly stuffing them inside.

“Get somewhere safe, maybe?” Maribelle continued, and you wanted so much to say something, to say yes. Anything would help. Of course, you knew you couldn’t trust these people, and something about them, despite their friendliness, threw you off. Daryl must’ve felt it, too, because almost as soon as he settled in, he was ready to get out of there. “You can help us. We can help you find a way.”

Following Daryl, you knelt down beside him as he packed. You couldn’t speak much above a very hushed whisper. “They can help us get back.”

He looked up at you momentarily, a stern look in his eye. “No.”

“Hey, yankees.” Suddenly, Guillaume spoke up. You both looked his way.

Guillaume spoke more, but only in French. You turned your attention back to Maribelle, your eyes begging for translation.

She spoke with a slight laugh. “All the time he talk about World War II.”

“La résistance,” Guillaume continued, like the ramblings of your grandfather. In fact, you recalled his stories from that war, how young he was when he was stationed in England. Not quite France, but close enough. “U.S. GI’s fight together. Your country, my country. Like friends.”

Daryl did not say anything, only turned his attention back to packing his bag. You stood up slowly, managing a smile. You weren’t sure if the man could see it, but you wanted to somehow convey to him that you appreciated his ideology. Afterall, you needed friends.

But you couldn’t think of what to say. You knew Daryl was not going to budge, and it wasn’t your place to accept his offer of friendship. All you could do was think of something nice to say, but before you could, Guillaume spoke again, catching onto the silence that lingered for several moments.

“You are no friend,” he said, a tinge of vitriol in his voice.

“There ain’t no countries no more, neither,” Daryl replied.

You huffed, frustrated by his coldness. It wasn’t your favorite side of Daryl, his harshness, but you couldn’t entirely blame him—he was stressed, injured, and sad. You could tell, despite him never letting it really show. He held emotions inside, whereas you wore them on your sleeve. Still, you knew him better than anyone else, and you knew that this situation you found yourselves in was taking a greater toll on him than even he realized. You hadn’t pressed him about it much, but you knew: he missed your babies.

He missed home. He missed your friends. He missed the life he’d devoted himself to creating with you. Ultimately, he was tired.

Before you could try to talk some sense into him, though, you heard something that startled you: a distant roaring of an engine, coming closer. Fast.

Daryl stood up quickly as a rather militaristic looking jeep came through the wide archway into the courtyard. Two men were sitting in the front seat of the uncovered vehicle, both armed with guns.

Upon the hood of the vehicle was some kind of symbol painted in white that you couldn’t quite make out without taking your eyes off the two men as they stepped out, their guns seemingly locked and loaded.

Daryl kept a firm grip on his spear, you on your knife. Still, there wasn’t much you could do against a gun, especially in this open area.

As the men came forward, you took note of their appearance: each were heavily armed and wore camouflage patterns. They looked like some sort of paramilitary group, and from your history with such groups, you were not looking to make friends.

One of the men set his sights on you and Daryl, while saying something in French. All you could do was stare back at him, until he raised his gun, speaking again. This time, he spoke more commandingly.

Your heart dropped for a moment, but Maribelle spoke quickly to the man, then turned to face you both. She held her hands up, as if in surrender.

“Sit down, he said,” she said to you seriously.

Daryl exchanged a quick look with you, somewhere between reassurance and a warning of cautiousness. In situations like this, perhaps you fell into that old trap of taking the man’s lead, but Daryl had had a gun pointed at him many more times than you had, and it was true that he looked much more threatening than you, so you followed his lead, walking several steps with him over to the crates around the fire that were being used as seats. If you were going to sit down for two French assholes with guns, you were at least going to be a little bit comfortable.

Now sitting, each of you dropped your weapons, slowly raising your hands to match Maribelle. The two men seemed to trust you both much less than they did Maribelle and Guillaume, as both their guns were pointed towards you—one of you, one on Daryl. It was not quite reassuring.

One of the men began to speak to Maribelle again, going back and forth for a moment. The only word you could make out was American, which you weren’t sure was a good thing, given the way the man looked at you both suspiciously.

No, you did not like these guys one bit.

And now, after a few more rather ominous sounding words in French, he came forward, taking Maribelle by the shoulder and tugging on her jacket, pulling her away to God knows where. Though you couldn’t understand what he had said, you feared for Maribelle, knowing the kinds of things men could do, especially to women… It boiled your blood, especially as she tried to get away, yelling something at him in French and struggling against him.

The other man, meanwhile, kept his sawed-off double-barrelled shotgun pointed at Daryl, but he looked away, his eyes focused on the scene as the other man struggled to drag Maribelle away. When he became frustrated with her reluctance, he backhanded her hard, the force causing her to fall down with a thud.

And, with one look exchanged between you and Daryl, you knew it was time to do something… So much for making friends.

Daryl moved first, reaching for the knife he kept strapped to his leg and standing up to grab his spear with the other hand. He moved faster than you, and faster than the man who was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.

He used the blunt edge of his spear to first hit the man’s leg, then, as he raised his gun to defend himself, Daryl disarmed him, then dropped his spear to raise his knife and puncture his neck.

You stood up, too, sprinting towards the gun that had been dropped on the ground, while Daryl held the dying man in front of him like a meat shield. If there was one thing about Daryl, it was that he was resourceful.

But just before you could get your hands on the shotgun, the other man came towards you both, shouting in French as he held his gun out. In a matter of seconds, he fired, shooting towards Daryl.

The loud gunshot made you flinch and grab your ears as you instinctively flung yourself onto the ground, trying to dodge it. Immediately, though, you looked up, your sights setting on Daryl, himself on the ground, holding the left side of his neck and sticking out his right hand in surrender. The man did not seem so eager to show mercy, leaning down beside you to pick up the shotgun and point it towards Daryl.

“No!” you cried out rather helplessly, crawling on hands and knees to Daryl’s side. If you couldn’t sacrifice yourself for him, you’d die together. At least you’d die knowing you tried to save him.

But Maribelle moved quicker, striking the man in the back with Guillaume’s cane. The blow was so hard that he fell to the ground, allowing Daryl to quickly stand up and grab the shotgun. As he held his bleeding neck, he pointed the barrel towards the fallen man.

“Stop,” said Maribelle, coming forward with a spear. “Save the powder.” She plunged the spear into the man’s chest, causing you to wince in slight surprise.

Maribelle turned to Daryl, uttering a simple, “Merci.”

Quickly, you stood up, coming over to daryl and removing his hand from his neck to get a look at the damage. Obviously, the bullet must’ve only grazed him, because if the bullet had gone just a bit more to the right, he might not even have a head right now.

“Just a superficial graze,” you said, taking off your glove and pressing it to his face as a bandage, but of course you’d need something more suitable.

As you carefully helped him sit down on his knees, you called out to Maribelle, “Can you hand me the medical bag, please?”

All your attention, now, was on him, so much so that you didn’t notice how suspiciously silent it was, and how the two Frenchpeople did not seem eager to help.

But that was all peripheral to you, as you brushed back Daryl’s long hair to get a better look at the injury.

“You’re gonna be fine,” you said, with just a tiny curl of your lip to offer him some comfort.

And it did, his tired eyes softening as he felt your hand caress his cheek. Despite the stinging pain and the feeling of blood seeping into the glove you held tight against his wound, he couldn’t help but believe you. If there was anything in this world he truly believed in, after all, it was you.

But there was a horrible sense of suspicion growing between you, a lingering threat that became more and more apparent with each step the man behind Daryl took.

You raised your eyes, and Daryl turned to look at whatever had caught your attention—Guillaume.

His eyes were uncovered now, and beady with aggressive intent. But most startlingly, he held his wooden cane much too high for your comfort. He wielded it more like a baseball bat than a walking stick.

But he wouldn’t do what you thought he was going to do, would he?

Yes. He would.

The cane struck Daryl across the head, knocking him to the ground. Eyes wide as you started to lift yourself, you were met with the same fate: a strong hit to the head that sent you back down, reeling in pain.

You weren’t unconscious, though. Neither was Daryl, who opened his eyes despite the intense blurring that obstructed his vision. He caught sight of Guillaume, rummaging through his bag, while Maribelle got to work rifling through yours, throwing out its contents with carelessness as she seemed to be searching for something more useful than the maps and blankets you’d collected along the way from Marseille.

Notably, though, you watched the blonde Barbie doll you’d carefully tucked away in your bag get tossed behind her back like a worthless piece of junk. It almost riled you into a fit of sudden strength, but your head swam too much to allow your legs to carry you.

Your eyes became fixed on that doll, left abandoned amongst overgrown blades of faded green grass. Somewhere in your haze, as unconsciousness threatened to take over, was her voice, speaking the words she said to you before you left: “It’s okay, Mommy,” she said, her small voice echoing in the dizzied cavern of your head.

Just then, you felt a presence coming towards you, one which seemed both known and unknown.

Turning your head, your heavy eyes focused as well as they could on the approaching figure, cautiously side-stepping into the courtyard. Though you could not make out their face, you recognized one thing: a red cowl.

“We’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

A gunshot rang out, muffled by your fading consciousness. It had come from the approaching figure, and had seemingly run off Maribelle and Guillaume, which may have been either a good thing, or a bad thing.

“Maybe when you get back, Wes will know some more words.”

Your eyelids became immensely burdensome, and with each blink, you found yourself unable to keep them open for much longer.

“Yes… Robin…”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

#begin again series #begin again #the walking dead #the walking dead: daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon spin-off #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead: daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you

146 notes · View notes

twogyuu · 4 months

Text

seventeen for the holidays

pairing: svt x reader (?) (me tbh lmfao)

synopsis: would my family approve of svt if i brought them home for the holidays?

a/n: delulu hours open 24 hours today!!!! ✨

'tis the season to be lonely and single for the holidays once again, so i wrote this for shits and giggles. mostly pertains to my family dynamics (both nuclear and extended). completely self-indulgent. don't take anything seriously please! will likely delete later lol. im embarrassed fjksdlfj

. . . .

seungcheol:

imma be honest - i think my mom would be a smidge SUS of him at first, but eventually warm up to him. a little too good to be true (i mean aren't they all LOL), a little too pretty yet somehow handsome, very cordial, a little too clingy when she knows i don't like clingy- it doesn't make sense, but when she sees him taking care of me and getting along with everyone else, she'll approve. the asian aunties would be ALL OVER him fr fr. my uncles would think he's a respectful young man and give the approving nods/grunts. my cousins would think he's cool. all around, just a great guy 💓

. . . .

jeonghan:

confused - that's it. everyone would be confused. lots of questions about how we met would be asked before giving approval (or the lack thereof). as beautiful as he is, jeonghan isn't the type i usually go for. he'd just be so left field lol.

. . . .

joshua:

model boyfriend™️ - probably would wonder if i ordered him some underground ai manufacturer until he's hanging out with younger cousins and starts doing his 'love shot' grandpa dancing during karaoke with my drunk younger auntie.

. . . .

jun:

yes - what more do i need to say? he's like what they said in 'goldilocks and the three bears': just right 💙

. . . .

soonyoung:

he is very shy around people he doesn't know, so at least for the first few hours of the gathering, i'd expect him to be kinda bashful but so fucking endearingly so. i think people would ADORE him though, especially my older aunties. my uncles might be a little off-put and brush him off. my cousins would be confused, but maybe less so than jeonghan. they'd all be fooled into thinking he's some sweet boy my straightforward ass coerced into a relationship 😭 my mom might be a little questioning at first because he's so shy and got that kinda corny and innocent/childish feel to him, but ultimately decide he's a nice boy and approve 🫶🏻 honestly the only member of bias line i think she'd approve of- by the end of gathering, everyone will be wondering why my cousin's two-year-old is crawling around growling, holding her hands out like she's a tiger.

. . . .

wonwoo:

in some ways, i feel like wonwoo is the type of guy my entire family would expect me to date. he has that black cat energy that matches my own, also a very mature, polite, serious, quiet confidence kind of presentation (not that he is or isn't - but the he carries himself if that makes sense), they think i'm into. not that it's a bad thing - he's just not . . . my type??? they don't know i don't go for guys like this dkfjslkdf so if i did bring him home, no one would be fazed at all.

. . . .

jihoon:

scared af - does he like us? does he hate us? the world will never know until he releases a diss track about this holiday party-. would be considered tall in my family and fit in just right :D

. . . .

minghao:

HONESTLY ID LOVE TO BRING HIM TO A FAMILY GATHERING HAHAHAHA. ppl need a slice of his sassiness and judgment - looking at you cranky aunties, uncles, and cousins who keep trying to hook me up with your distant nephews/cousins 🥲

. . . .

seokmin:

1000000% - a perfect blend of sugar, spice, and everything nice. the fam would LOVE this man to pieces, except maybe my mom - she'd be hard to crack because that's just her personality, but i think seokmin can do it. as long as we keep the alcohol away-💀

. . . .

mingyu:

mingyu? with me? wwwwhhhhhaaatttt???? HAHAHAHA THIS MUST BE A JOKE - SAY SIKE RN AND TELL US YOU'RE FAKE DATING. impossible. most of my aunties would be too enamored by his handsomeness and boyish charms. would do the classic toxic auntie, "he's too handsome for you" and "y'all don't match" comments :') on the contrary, my mom and brothers would be extra SUS of him. might whisper to me that he's a red flag and warned me about boys like this lmfao because he's sugaring up the aunties a little too much to be normal (but he's just being mingyu really) and show him the door when we get home LOL.

. . . .

seungkwan:

most definitely!!! 🥰 equally sassy - would wonder how we haven't bickered/bantered the roof off the house yet, but they love him anyways.

. . . .

vernon:

it makes sense, but it also doesn't. iykyk 👁️👄👁️

. . . .

chan:

i'm the most undecided on him 🤔 on one hand, he's such a grandma's boy, i feel like my family would love him. on the other hand, it also depends on his mood, what he wears, if he's feeling his inner pi cheol in - so many factors to consider . . .

#twogyuu:strugglin'#seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen headcanons

66 notes · View notes

impulsivesuperrobin · 1 year

Text

i saw a post talking about neverafter slander on twitter so i went to check it out

here are some thoughts: (keep in mind, i’m not calling anyone out or saying your opinion isn’t valid if you agree with one of these points. try to read this as a light hearted discussion, like talking about a book with a friend)

a lot of it is people saying the season wasn’t horror enough and while i agree it’s not exactly as straightforward horror as the marketing suggested i think that that’s a take that is fundamentally misunderstanding what this is. it’s the horror season of dimension 20 which is a d&d show first and foremost. it’s not going to be following the beats of a horror movie because that’s not what they’re doing. when you run a horror campaign you fold in horror elements which they have been excellent at doing especially in the eldritch and existential categories

not to make assumptions but it seems to me that a lot of people making a big fuss about this haven’t played d&d for themselves. the things i have seen suggested the most for making the season more in line with the horror people were expecting involves turning the campaign into a more dm vs players situation (which is joked about a lot in fandom but in more of a meta humor way than is being suggested). this is something that anyone who has ever played in a bad campaign knows makes it a hell of a lot less fun to play and, i’m assuming, not so fun to watch either. the point of playing d&d is to work together to tell a story, if you go into to making a campaign with the goal of making your players lose, everyone is going to be miserable and your story is going to suck.

following that, some people are ragging on brennan for forgetting details and not having the lore entirely fleshed out. as someone who does unnecessary worldbuilding for homebrew campaigns every single time, i would just like to say on behalf of dms everywhere: it’s hard! there’s so much stuff to keep track of and so little time to keep the lore straight if you want the session to keep moving smoothly, i’m sure it’s even harder when you have a limited time to film the episodes/season

and maybe it’s just me, but i love horror movies (and other media) and neverafter is about as scary as most horror movies i’ve seen. it’s definitely better written than a lot of horror movies, we get to know the characters and are fully invested in them when bad things happen. it’s sort of on the level as the hellraiser reboot imo. some people make the point that besides the body horror, there’s not enough gore/blood kinda stuff, but i think gore isn’t truly horror, especially in a spoken format. it’s more of a shock factor thing, like a verbal jumpscare

and i’ve seen people saying that the pcs are too much like heroes/they’re too capable to be in any real danger, but in a horror movie, most of the bad things happen around the protagonist(s), they’re still thrown into the shit but most of the time they make it out. horror as a genre is so ill-defined anyway that people still debate if slashers and thrillers even count. plus, how many times in a movie has a side character been forgotten or something about the lore has been off? and that’s with multiple people overseeing the production.

jumping away from the “it’s not like the horror movie i envisioned” complaints, i’ve also seen a lot of people say it’s confusing??? and tbh i’m more confused about that than the campaign. to me it’s pretty straightforward, no more confusing than starstruck at the very least.

for the big picture: it’s different factions of people with conflicting (but occasionally overlapping) goals than all need to get to macguffin in order to reach whichever goal they’re aligned with

the pcs have their own character arcs which are very clearly laid out throughout the season

the minute details are there because that’s how you make your world feel lived in

and yeah, there’s a lot of potential in the stuff they could’ve done but didn’t. but i feel like that’s the whole point, y’know? this is the story they did tell, and the thousands of other ways they could’ve told the story live on like every retelling of a fairytale.

#tbh a lot of the criticism feels like people nitpicking to find stuff to hate but you can’t please everyone ig #feel free to disagree and tell me why! just please don’t turn my notes into a rage-bait discussion #dimension 20 #d20 #neverafter #dimension 20 neverafter

156 notes · View notes

1heartsickfics · 3 months

Text

Sam Knows

I've had lots of ideas for fics recently but am having trouble being motivated to actually write them so I'm going to be doing a few short little drabbles just to get into the practice of writing again.

So here's a little supernatural ficlet. TBH this isn't set in any specific season/timeline so just assume that something traumatic has happened to Dean recently. Take your pick lol.

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

"Oh, hey Cas?" Sam's voice came from behind him, making him jump. Cas spun around, blinking in surprise at why Sam was up and around at this hour.

"Sam. I didn't realize you were awake," Cas replied, seeing Sam coming down the hall from his room.

"Yeah I got caught up in some research and lost track of time, I'm on my way to bed now though," Sam shrugged, "I just wanted to ask you how Dean's doing."

"Oh. Well. You probably know just as well as I do," Cas shrugged.

"Maybe at one point, but I don't think that's true anymore. He trusts you Cas," Sam shook his head, chuckling lightly.

"He trusts you too Sam," Cas frowned, confused at Sam's comment.

"Well, yeah, I mean I know that. But he's spent his whole life taking care of me, protecting me. He doesn't know how to let me do the same for him. But I think he's learned how to let you in," Sam explained, smiling awkwardly as he struggled to put it into words.

He knew that Dean hadn't told Sam that him and Cas were... well, whatever they were. He wasn't sure how to handle this , he didn't want to upset Dean. It wasn't his place to tell Sam about their... situation.

"I think that he'll be okay, he just needs some time. But I mean you'd have to ask him," Cas answered slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"Come on Cas, I'm not stupid," Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"You know?" Cas asked, realizing what Sam was implying.

"Of course I know. I've known for years," he said, obviously amused by their oblivion to his knowledge. "You guys think I didn't notice that your room is always empty even when you're here? Or how Dean's always happier when you're around?" he continued.

"Right..." Cas trailed off. They hadn't been as subtle as they thought apparently.

"So will you just be straight with me dude?"

Cas sighed. Sam was just worried about his brother, he deserved an honest answer. "He's not okay. But he will be. I've got him Sam, I promise," he said.

Sam nodded, taking a slow deep breath. "I'm glad that he has you. He's always on guard with me, you know, just cause he still feels like he's responsible for keeping me safe. But I think he feels safe with you."

"He doesn't sleep with a pistol under his pillow anymore. And he actually sleeps through the night, he never used to," Cas nodded.

"Thank you for taking care of my brother when he won't let me," Sam said, reaching out to squeeze Cas's shoulder before he turned to head back to his room to go to sleep.

"Always," Cas said quietly to himself. He would always take care of Dean.

#supernatural #cas and dean #destiel #fluff #cute destiel #hurt/comfort #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel

44 notes · View notes

edenvinity · 5 months

Text

ranking the f1 driver pairings as amazing race teams

me and my family have been watching amazing race for years so you KNOW i had to combine my interests !!!

amazing race is basically a show where teams of two race all around the world and preform a series of challenges rhat can range from physical to more mental, and the team that reaches the “pit stop” last is eliminated. plane flights + transportation around the country is also often up to the teams, having to buy their own plane tickets + hailing their own taxis + driving themselves around a country which works against one team dominance

KEY:

detour - teams can choose to complete one of two challenges

roadblock - one person in the team completes a challenge (one person cannot do every roadblock)

express pass - by doing an extra challenge, one team can get this pass that allows them to skip any one challenge

teams are ranked based on how far i think they would make it in a fictional all-f1 season of amazing race :)

10. pierre & esteban

sorry you KNOW they would be a dumpster fire. like the couples who go on and are like “i love my partner so much :))” and then immediately implode the second aomething goes wrong. would start off polite enough before the first detour where one of them is like mildly slow and the bickering starts. they would start rushing in an attempt to catch up and leave an important item behind (passports, clue, etc) and thats just the nail in the coffin for them

9. lance & fernando

tbh i could see them making it maybe 1 or 2 legs more depending on the challenge but. nothing against lance but hes a rich kid. the challenge would be like “find all the items on this shopping list at a wet market” and hes LOST. fernando gets 3/4 of the list AND has to find lance who is desperately looking for duck eggs (it was at the first stall) and then they get back and lance bought regular eggs anyways for a massively jacked up price. sorry but as entertaining as it would be they are doomed to flop

8. alex & logan

SORRY WILLIAMS BESTIES they would be such a silly team and fan favorites but respectfully i dont see them being very good 🥲 i think they would have a very good dynamic but other then that based on the pumpkin carving/drawing challenges,,,, they would not go far 😭 they would get a challenge to deliver something to several different locations (without map) and eventually get lost and be so far behind that when they get to the mat its like. nighttime. but they would be very cheesed and happy still !!

7. yuki & daniel

THE FUNNIEST PAIR EVER can you IMAGINE the dynamic when trying to navigate or drive a stick shift car. one of the friendlier pairs, willing to help point other teams in the right direction at challenges. also between the two of them they have a pretty decent skill set so i think theyd do pretty well at the challenges, plus be able to get around the city well enough. theyd eventually go out on a leg w more physical challenges just by virtue of the remaining teams being better but they have SO MUCH FUN and SO MUCH banter

6. kevin & nico

solid guys overall !! could see them maybe making it another leg further over the next team. definitely one of the most chill teams, sightseeing/enjoying the travels more (not to say that they arent competitive tho) and overall having a great time !! i think their experience with raising children would also factor in well (patience/calmness) and thus would keep them from making little mistakes and stay consistent. would eventually go out in a leg where they start from a lower spot and cant manage to find any earlier trains/flights and thus cant make up any ground and end up going out

5. lando & oscar

they are the most unstable team LMAO they (lando) always take big gambles with challenges to try and get ahead and as such always end up gaining/dropping tons of places in each leg. impeccable dynamic tho !! oscar is def the grounding force and keeps them on track, navigator to landos driver, while landos creative strategies often help them gain places where they might otherwise be stagnant. would eventually go out on a leg where lando insists on trying to catch an earlier train but ends up missing the connector to their destination (setting them back) and they cant catch up, eventually resulting in their elimination

4. valterri & zhou

i actually cant really explain this one guys its just a gut feeling. like i know that valterri is reasonably fit from biking a lot and zhou could help them get around more reliably in asian countries but other then that i dont have an explanation. theyre chill and like just kind of cruising/enjoying themselves. theres a roadblock where they have to name several different types of beer by taste and valterri crushes it. theres a challenge where its watching this person dancing and having to recreate the entire outfit that zhou kills. they go out right before the final because theyre beaten in a footrace to the mat

3. lewis & george

these guys are EFFICIENT. lewis somehow manages to get them on the earliest flights possible. george reads the map once and immediately find the fastest routes from place to place. they are reasonably good at most challenges. their downfall is challenges requiring them to work together closely, which happens in the final where they are required to learn a traditional wedding dance and preform it and they just cant sync up, costing them major time, and the entire experience just leaves them irritable which eventually leads to them claiming third

2. max & checo

similarly to lando & oscar, max is the competitive force with checo grounding their team. highly competitive (though not to say they dont enjoy themselves), always going for express passes and valuing efficiency. their strategy works for the most part, with them racking up the most leg wins. their downfall ultimately came during the final challenge, where they had to match moments from previous legs with their locations, and neither of them really remember LMAO. just barely misses out on first which goes to…

1. charles & carlos

impeccable dynamic. gets one express pass and uses it strategically. very supportive of each other during challenges. they are just a generally overall solid team but not outstanding, never really winning and just beats out valterri/zhou for the third spot in the final. but in the final leg they are just incredibly in sync which allows them to complete the challenges efficiently, and at the end challenge they have memories tied to each place and are able to figure it out faster then max/checo and beat them to the mat to take the win !!!

okay thanks for listening to my rambles ☺️ maybe a part two of this later ranking old driver pairs OR an f1/survivor ranking

43 notes · View notes

hey-kae · 2 years

Text

Off-track

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x driver!female reader

Request: Heeey! I love the way you write and i have a little request. Idk I just thought about it :)). Charles and reader they meet at a traffic light or in traffic, and they just agree to race a little when the light turns green. Thank you💖

Warning: a lot of cursing.

a/n: so i made the reader into a driver because i couldn’t think of any other context tbh. I’m sorry if that is annoying to anyone😅 Please be responsible drivers and don’t do dangerous things such as street racing irl!!

The rage inside you after you had crossed the finish line could enable you to tear down a full, mighty building with your plain, bare hands.

P2 couldn't have meant any less, not when the win was snatched right out of your grasp just two laps before the end of the race.

Charles fucking Leclerc.

You could've literally killed him as you got out of the cockpit in parc-fermé but you desperately wanted to do it when you watched the red Ferrari fly past your car on track.

"Irrational reactions cost too much." Your team principal had warned you when he saw how furious you were and how you were glaring at Charles' back in the cooldown room.

Admitting it felt like a defeat, but he was right. So you sucked it up, got on the podium, drank some champagne and faked some smiles then left without any further words to anyone.

Like a lot of F1 drivers, you chose to live in Monaco. You were oblivious to why each different driver chose to live there but you did purely because you loved its atmosphere. It felt like the holy grail of Formula 1 and sport cars and you were more than there for it. You loved it.

Therefore, flying home was always something you looked forward to, what explained the slightly better mood you were on when you boarded the plane after the race, your trophy in hand. You just went home and slept the exhaustion off, only waking up in the evening when your friend called you repeatedly, practically begging you to show up at a party just a few minutes away.

Having turned down way too many invites in the last few weeks, you agreed and got dressed in a black dress but ditched the heels for something comfier.

It was a few minutes before you were out the door and in your car, your pride and joy.

Deciding that you weren't in the mood for trafic and just wanted to speed down the road, you took a backroad. Sure, it wasn't deserted but it had way fewer cars than the main road. You smiled and let down the car windows, allowing the wind to breeze in as your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, the smooth sound of the engine being enough to calm you down after so much anger.

You were so relaxed as you took your time driving to your friends until you reached a red light. You stopped the car and looked out of your window towards the beautiful scenery of the night sky blending in with the dark sea, both of them littered with small sparkles, stars and boats. It was breathtaking until your view got obstructed by a car pulling up beside you. A fucking Ferrari Pista 488 Spyder. That matte black one everyone in the whole country of Monaco knew.

"You're fucking shitting me right now." You cussed under your breath, both your hands now fisting your steering wheel as you averted your attention to the street in front of you, trying to ignore the asshole who stole your win just a few hours ago.

Sure, the two of you were friendly but he was your rival and it was past half the season and the points were too close for comfort so the tension between you two was through the roof.

Charles noticed you right away. After all, your car was just as famous as his among people. For some reason, when he saw you mutter and turn away from him, he decided he wanted your attention. Smirking, he started loudly revving up the car while keeping it in its spot next to yours. He kept doing that, his engine sounding louder by the second until you felt yourself going insane.

"What?" You snapped you head in his direction and shouted at him.

It made your blood boil when he stopped his act and laughed.

"Race me. Get your revenge, babe."

"Fuck off, Leclerc." You looked away.

"What? You're obviously still mad i overtook you, so race me."

"You want me to race you? Fine."

You didn't even wait to see his reaction, you just stepped hard on the gas and the car shot down the street, taking Charles by surprise.

In your rear view mirror, you could see him hot on your tail, actually trying to catch up to you and somehow, despite you starting before him, he was close to passing you.

It was barely any time before he shot past you, honking at you as he did so. It enraged you.

In a matter of seconds, traction control was off and the car was switched on race mode. You foot was pushing the gas pedal down to the floor, your face twisted with anger. You were determined to overtake him.

"Over my fucking dead body, Leclerc." You said to yourself as you watched his car become closer as you accelerated, eventually becoming parallel to yours and he was fucking smiling.

It made you push the car to its limits and soon enough, you flew past him, quickly putting a decent distance between the two of you.

That's when it sunk in, what madness you were engaging in. Your manager would be furious and you wouldn't hear the end of it if everyone found out about this.

"Shit, what am i doing?" you kept repeating as you pulled up on the side of the road, taking in how unprofessional and unsafe that was.

Charles' cars pulled up behind yours and he got out quickly.

"I was joking but you won, i guess. Hope that did it for you but what the fuck has gotten into you? I thought we were good." He bent down and leaned on your window.

"Shut up."

"Alright, alright. I hope you remind yourself that it's racing and i will do anything to win just like you would."

"You fucking pushed me off track, Leclerc so don't hit me with that racing bullshit." You opened your door and got out, pushing him away in the process.

"It's not my fucking fault that you have no regard to track limits!"

"Oh, please. You knew exactly what you were doing!"

"Alright, whatever. Enjoy your night, princess." He waved you off and walked away.

This wasn't good. The PR team would hate you if they found out you initiated an off-track rivalry with Charles so you sighed and called for him.

"Charles..."

He heard you. You knew he heard you but ignored you.

"Charles... I'm sorry."

Yeah, that did the trick. He stopped walking and quickly turned to look at you at the sound of those words.

"You're what?"

"I'm sorry. Our teams will hate us if we start a fight."

"Oh, that's why you're sorry. Our teams. Okay, yeah. We're good. Bye." He curtly nodded and continued his way to open his car door.

You stormed toward him.

"Why else would i be sorry, Charles?"

"I don't know... Maybe human decency, or wanting to keeping whatever friendship we have." He shrugged and tossed his phone onto the driver's seat of his car, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're my rival."

"So?"

"So it's basically impossible to be friends!"

"Okay, i'll talk to you in a few months then." He got into his car and drove off.

Your stared at the back of his car until it disappeared out of sight, questioning what the hell he wanted. He left you dumbfounded because you never thought he'd want to be friends with you but you were even more weirded out that you were now looking forward for the season to end. Frowning, you shook that idea out of your mind, not believing you even thought of things that way, got back into your car and drove off to the party, your thoughts still about the monégasque.

Guess you'll have to wait a few months to see what he wanted.

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 oneshots #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc blurb #f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 fics

457 notes · View notes

kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

Note

Hello! Can I request a scenario with a gn!inumaki reader using their cursed speach to protect the first years from a beast or somth?

If you don't want to it's ok! Have a great day/night:)

Hi, thank you for the ask and for the patience! It's exam season, I have one more exam before my break starts and I'm using tumblr to cool down before studying again haha

First years with a reader who is like Inumaki from JJK

Ace

Might poke fun at you for using words like "tuna" instead of "hello" at first because he doesn't get it. However, once he finds out why he's just amazed at your ability

It happened when you two were fending yourselves from the ghosts during Idia's "wedding" and you commanded the ghosts to stop. It worked, and you ended up with a sore throat

After this event, he'll apologize for his actions before and give you some throat medicine. He's surprisingly nice afterwards, but watch out because now he wants to see what else you can do

He'll ask if you can make him jump really high by doing a command, and of course you shake your head because you don't want to hurt him. He might ask you to do something harmless but if you get angry then by all means make him slap himself :/

Deuce

Similar to Ace, he doesn't really understand what it means to have "cursed speech." He doesn't take part in the teasing, but he might ask you why you keep telling him "salmon" instead of "thanks."

That's until in the mines you two face off an overblot monster. Of course it was a bad idea for the two of you to go out alone and attempt to find some ore for a potions project, but you two weren't willing to risk your grades! You managed to take it down, albeit destroying your throat in the process

Deuce gets you to the infirmary right away, apologizes for the events that took place and insists he takes all of the blame. Of course, you two end up getting punished equally, but Deuce thanks you for saving his life after the meeting with Crewel

He will try to make a dictionary for himself on what you mean by certain ingredients. He might respond similarly to you on accident too haha

Jack

Probably the most understanding of your situation. Though he doesn't know the details of your ability, he doesn't question your choice in words and just goes with whatever you say.

He only sees your ability at work when you face off Leona during his overblot. You attempted to stop him in his tracks to save a student's life, which in turn hurt your throat. The fight ended with everyone safe but Jack carried you to the infirmary

He thanks you for saving both Leona and everyone else's lives. He also apologizes for not having done anything substantive, but you need to remind him that no he did help out.

Jack doesn't really mind your abilities tbh, he will however get a bit defensive if someone tries to poke fun at you for it. Of course, he's also the one giving you throat medicine whenever he thinks you might need it

Epel

Thought you were saying things like "roe" and "tuna" because that was the language of the place you were from haha. However, he didn't know that you had cursed speech, and he might've tried communicating with you through similar phrases (confusing the hell out of Vil in the process)

He sees your ability in action when he fights against the ghosts with you during Idia's almost marriage when you order a bunch of ghosts to move out of your way. It's amazing how you were able to do it, and it looked like they couldn't control their bodies. However, he saw you also cough violently and drop to the floor

After the fight, he's the first one to tell you how cool you were when you used your ability, but he also tells you not to push yourself. Handing you some warm apple cider, he says thank you

He might continue to talk to you in smaller phrases, and it's a way to bond with him honestly. He might try getting you to use words like "apple" too haha

Sebek

At first he tried to demand you to use "proper vocabulary" but then realized you had cursed speech after talking to you for a few minutes. Though he's a first year, fae know about magic pretty well and this isn't a new thing to him

He'll tell you not to strain yourself, and he's honestly more caring for you than you would have expected. However, sometimes he might not like it when you just respond to him with "roe" instead of a "got it" or so haha

You saved his life while outdoors during the Vargas camp. It wasn't a big beast, at least that's what Sebek told the other students, but it was fairly strong. You managed to fend it off by using a command and making it run the other way. You had lost your voice in the process, and Sebek told everyone to not make you shout or anything like that. He also helps you by making some warm drink

He's more caring than you would've thought. You first think it's because he knows Malleus cares for you, but it's probably because he understands what your ability is like

278 notes · View notes

cloudycasey · 11 months

Text

STRIKER CHARACTER NOTES: COMPARE AND CONTRAST

I noticed a lot, and I mean a LOT of character differences in Striker in this newest episode (not just his voice actor!) so I decided to watch both Striker episodes back to back and write out all of the traits and notes of character that can be seen in both episodes. Let’s begin! Season One Episode Five -Originally inspired by Rattlesnake Jake from Rango -Meant to bring a strong, imposing aura -Design is meant to be a blend of Moxxie and Blitz originally, took on other characteristics to be a hybrid over time during design phase -Can be casual, polite, and charismatic -Good at listening, and highlighting what gives others ego boosts through compliments (can be used for manipulation later on) -Social, but doesn't talk that much. Seems to prefer being in the background to read and observe people and only speaks up to challenge Moxxie -Raspy, dark voice but big range. Can have a higher pitch while being casual and friendly, but gets lower in pitch and tone when he's being threatening -Not afraid to step up and show off, but knows how to balance it with skills to back it up -Athletic, but knows how to restrain himself to keep face (via always being able to keep a smile on his face and only grunting from exertion) -Enjoys attention, but doesn't enjoy his personal space being evaded (interesting considering how he confronts both Moxxie and Blitz later on in the episode) -Isn't afraid to physically assault people to obtain his personal space -Isn't afraid to call people out, even while showing off -Smart and knows how to take steps to do his job silently, but effectively -Sadistic, and enjoys playing the waiting game -Durable, can take multiple stab wounds and smile through it -Enjoys degrading and emotionally putting others down -Morally ambiguous, but great at reading people and using their own morals and thoughts against them -Hates rich people, and likes to favor himself as better then other imps by nature based on his physical strengths and attributes -Not afraid of making alliances, and respects others who show the same level of strength as him -Has the ability to recover quickly, but tends to rely on his words to fight when he can't physically -Much like actual snakes, Striker is slippery and knows when to run away when he loses the upper hand -Knows how to be respectful and polite to rich higher ups, further showing his charisma and ability to put up a front despite his internal beliefs -Is confident in his own abilities, but is fine with staying in the shadows as he waits for his next opportunity to strike (very similar to how a snake hunts in real life)

Season Two Episode Four -Good at waiting for the right opportunity (or just has good timing) -Good at stealth with his poncho -Good aim, good at avoiding shooting the wrong person/people and focuses on his target primarily -Still good at listening, but gets more openly annoyed while listening -Gets impatient, and snaps far more easily -Loves and respects wild west tropes -Doesn't enjoy attention, and possibly doesn't enjoy his own theme song -Seems to live in a old mining cave with old train tracks -Enjoys doing stunts and tricks with his horse, and seems to trust his horse fully to do the jumps needed. Possibly great at training horses -Most likely sees himself as a outlaw (which would explain a lot tbh) -Still enjoys the waiting game like in episode five -Takes time to decorate and use décor for his home, but seems to prefer a more simplistic design. Could possibly be because he can't afford that much furniture, and seems to prioritize getting décor that provides a liking to his own image -Has a train track rock wall of sorts dedicated to killing people on, as referenced by the giant ass sign that he got attached to it -Has a soft spot for old tropes and clichés, and seems to prefer to live under that aesthetic for his own pleasure -Enjoys getting things that can boost his own self image and ego, but still uses them for more practical things, like using his own statue as a coat/hat hanger -Easily annoyed and seemingly hurt by insults and negative comments on his living style -Seems to have a hatred for richer folks because they took something away from him -May feel the need to 'have' to live like he does because of his personal money issues -Still very sadistic -Doesn't seem to enjoy when others either don't react or enjoy when he's trying to be sadisitc -Doesn't seem to enjoy that he's having to work for Stella in order to get money -Seems to genuinely hate Stolas -Also seems to genuinely hate being compared to Blitz -Even when angry, he prefers to slip away instead of actually losing his temper at his captor -Becomes more like himself when he strikes a nerve with Stolas, relishing in his reactions -Recalls and obtains information from listening in on the phone call, much like he was shown doing in episode five, and uses the information against Stolas as a manipulation tactic -Can still easily flip fronts, and can still maintain a polite demeanor when interacting with higher ups -So poor he uses a flip phone (fucking rip) -Seems to be almost ashamed for following Stella's orders, going so far as to avoid eye contact with Stolas as he agrees to her -Still prefers to satisfy his own needs first though (which goes against his more efficient characterization in episode five), and is willing to follow orders but bend the rules a little just to satisfy his own sadism and ego -Even Striker is confused about the music choice, and clearly preferred the country music -Still powerful and durable, using his athleticism and the environment around him to assist in giving him a upper hand against Moxxie and Millie -Was seemingly aiming to decapitate Millie rather than pin her -Genuinely caught off guard from Moxxie appearing to enjoy being choked, and dislikes the change -Even still, Striker was successful in his goals and seemed to have actually gotten under Stolas's skin with his words with his manipulation and sadistic treatment I hope this helps to solidify what we know as a whole for Striker’s character, and bring out all of the differences that we saw! Thank you for reading <3

#Helluva Boss #Helluva Boss Spoilers #Helluva Boss Striker #striker helluva boss #Long post #Helluva Boss Characters #Helluva Boss Character Study #character sheet #Character notes

130 notes · View notes