#collision sequence

[grimesgirll]

somewhat obsessed with the idea of wearing rick’s boxers.

it’s like second nature to you. it has to be.

after every time you slid into bed, every time rick and daryl strip you of your own undergarments, every time they fuck you dumb, everytime rick maneuvers you into your position bundled against his chest, you’re wearing a pair of his boxers.

the two had been surprised at first when they found you face down on the bed after a long day in nothing but a tiny tank top and rick’s blue and white striped boxers.

it took everything in them not to pounce on you right then and there. but when you woke up, you were more than happy to fess up to stealing rick’s boxers to wear as shorts.

rick could barely contain himself one afternoon in alexandria. you were taking judith on a wholesome stroll but you were wearing a pair of pale blue boxer shorts with a soft, white long sleeve and one of rick’s white button ups thrown on. later, he had to explain to you that he wasn’t snubbing you when you caught sight of him and tried to wave him over, just trying to keep his zipper from busting.

you had just laughed and quipped that they were the perfect bottoms.

from then on, rick found his boxer shorts going missing; on runs, he’d found you in the men’s underwear section, stripping down to try on a pair of striped ralph lauren boxers. that’s how the two of you ended up sweating and shamelessly blushed out on the cramped car ride home.

the rose painting your countenance couldn’t cease because you knew you smelled like sex. rick too. from the creamy ring you’d left around his cock as he lifted you off of him and onto the mahogany sales table, you knew you two had overdone it. with the wide block of time you had today to secure supplies, rick felt free to fuck your pussy twice, filling you up enough to have you seen stars on the sales floor.

all because you’d styled his underwear as shorts.

daryl teases his friend about it.

“can’t even wake up without seein’ her in ‘em and gettin’ hard.”

daryl’s a hypocrite however.

even the woodsman isn’t immune to your figure in those boyish bottoms.

it’s twenty-five minutes into your small game hunt when daryl’s hands are in your boxers. you had actually wanted to catch a rabbit or some quail, but once your boyfriend’s fingers are between your folds, you can’t find the will to complain.

the two of you start with him holding you against a hemlock, arms wrapping around you while he fingers you nice and slow, boxers down around your ankles. as he massages your plush walls, daryl counts how casual you are about going commando as one of his blessings.

then it turns. then suddenly there’s a pine needle in your mouth. you spit the green thing out and try to brace yourself against the forest floor. it had happened so fast; his tongue tag teaming you with his fingers to crack you open like a safe in record time. then you were face down with nothing but a denim jacket quickly strewn beneath you.

you love when he or rick spring this kinda thing on you - it’s spontaneous, wild, a little risky in all the right ways. yes, most nights you’d prefer to be rolled up into a blanket burrito with your boys and a glass of wine but the adventures like this really do something for you.

pupils expanded, your chest is heavy when daryl’s the first to come out of your post-romp fog and collect your boxers. your legs are still shaking when the fabric touches your skin.

“daryl!”

you’d protested when the man began to pull up your boxer briefs. full of his cum, you want to clean up before you soil your bottoms but daryl disregards the swats to his hands. slightly annoyed, you hurried ahead of him through the tract of woods back towards alexandria. it’s fine. he just enjoyed the view of your ass.

complaints crawl out of your mouth as soon as you’re in the door and you’re haphazardly hanging your rifle on the wall. daryl brings in the rear behind you while you’re stomping up the stairs to rick.

your chocolate curled lover is taking off his watch, ready to drop it into the ceramic dish on the dresser when you appear next him, shimmying down your bottoms in a huff.

“hey, darlin’,” he greets, expecting more than a scowl from you.

“hey,” you reply curtly, face still in a pout.

“-make sure you don’t take off those boxers, baby-,” daryl stops dead in his tracks at the sight of your bared pussy in the bedroom lamplight. rick’s also taking it in, eyes trailing from your waist to the trimmed bush, and the puffy pink pussy peeking out, now leaking with daryl’s sticky cum.

you bend over to pick up the soiled shorts. “you’re not the only one who likes these,” you point out.

blue eyes narrow. but before he can give you any lip, you’re giving him not one, but both of yours. smashed against your mouth, rick’s tongue delves between those pillowy lips while walking you towards the bed where daryl’s waiting to situate you on his lap once more. daryl’s antics weren’t enough to turn off the blazing furnace between your legs. no, your temper can handle a few more rounds. it’s not hard when your mind paces back to the eye rolling, all consuming inferno that had cyclones through your core.

they trap you in a kiss. sandwiched between both of their hard ons, you’re shifting and grinding in each direction.

“thought you were pissed off with me,” daryl breathes into your ear, fingertips skimming your waist.

you snort, leaning back into him to grant full access to your bared neck. without hesitation, he’s licking a wicked pattern up the column of your neck. “dare’,” you sigh. gasp after gasp, you melt into his touch.

daryl’s hands are beneath the fat of your rear already and all of the sudden, one of rick’s fingers has snaked its way down to your clit. the fervid flicking against your ardor flush tissue culls any anger you could have towards the two men. you can’t even think about holding a grudge once rick gets a finger into you. at two fingers, daryl’s kissing you with the ferocity of a wildfire. three fingers inside of you and you’re babbling;

“rick, faster, please.”

“what was that?”

“please - faster, can you please?”

the grin on his face is as wide as the pacific. his lips turn upwards into a sly smile. “you want somethin’ a little faster, darlin’?” you shake your head as if it’s obvious. he hmmphs. “you oughta’ sit on daryl’s cock.”

you can’t imagine a world where that’s an unpopular idea.

back onto daryl you go.

those hands at your hips come in handy; daryl raises you a few inches once rick’s removed his fingers. eyes focused on rick and the way his mouth closes around one pruning finger. sucking it clean while daryl’s tip brushes your slick entrance. any yearning radiating off of you can’t be hidden. that kind of heat and wetness down between your thighs is no lie.

so a hiss is to be expected when the muscled man wiggles his way into you. rick is saving a mental image of you - adjusting to the familiar stretch of daryl. your blush doesn’t ease once daryl works another half inch inside.

one moment you’re trying to process daryl’s cock as it’s suddenly seated in you to the hilt. the next rick catches your gaze again. this time he’s doing more than teasing you, taking advantage of your parted lips to invade with his tongue.

“rick,” you mumble against his lips.

“you gettin’ close, angel?”

“should feel ‘er,” daryl rasps. with each thrust of his you’re clinging to rick. “so fuckin’ tight like you didn’t get this perfect pussy fucked in the woods.”

“that’s where you guys went?”

your mischevious grin is hidden in the crook of rick’s necks. the telltale tightening around daryl’s length is all consuming. your grin turns into an open “o” shape when daryl drags across your cervix. sensations from your convulsing core are consuming him too.

that same lust from the woods washes over daryl like the tide and you’re the moon, pulling him in and leading him to crash into you. usually this is rick’s wheelhouse, but one glance into daryl’s darkened pupils and you’re ripped from rick. on top of daryl’s lap, you’re wrapped in his arms, bouncing up and down on the rock hard cock beneath you. he sets the pace while you can only claw at his chest. he returns the favor and reaches forward to palm your tit, relishing in your sweet moans when he rolls a hardened bud between two fingers.

riding him on the bed is such a break for your knees compared to the forest floor. gyrating your hips activates not only the core that keeps you fit but the molten hot bundle of nerves at your core. daryl ruts against you deliciously to deliver just the perfect level of pressure.

rick can’t help but be bewitched at everything unfolding on the surface of the mattress. daryl’s length disappears inside out of you, reappearing with each erratic movement of your hips. there’s no reason to be jealous but if looks could kill, daryl’d be dead simply for the privilege of burying himself inside those heavenly walls.

meanwhile, heat bursts down below like a mini neutron star collision within you. forehead cast with sweat, the energy is fading from your movements as you messily move your pelvis to brush against daryl.

a “fuck, baby,” escapes from his lips and you’re done for. and so is he.

shooting into the sheets and collapsing by your side. you’re prepared to slide into daryl’s embrace when there’s suddenly a familiar feeling breaching your bared pussy.

nails dig into your hips and daryl’s back at it again - lapping his tongue up and down your slit. you were thinking that you two would at least catch your breaths but daryl’s taking no breaks. rick isn’t either.

in true rick fashion, he’s tapping your lips with his impressive cock. how can you say no to that?

you open your mouth and moan around his cock once you feel those devious fingers in your hair. it’s like that sense of overwhelm’s been replicated again. tongue against your clit and yours on the underside of rick, you never imagined your afternoon going this way. all this thanks to your little fashion trend.

“princess, your mouth feels amazing.”

you bob your head in appreciation. just like daryl’s taking care of you, you’re taking your time swallowing around the man in your mouth, treating him to the tight embrace of your throat.

“you like gettin’ a cock down your throat while daryl licks you stupid?”

“mhmmm!” you nod forward onto rick.

as soon as your moans reach daryl’s ears, his tongue’s kicking into hyperdrive. goaded by your delightful little whimpers, daryl begins swabbing a vicious pattern across your folds. the redneck alternates between racing over your sopping tissue to flattening that tongue and saddle you with a finger.

“ooommph,” is the only sound that comes out with rick’s steel hard cock down your throat.

spit slick, rick throbs in your mouth. that painful hardness he’s enduring is granted some sweet relief by your hollowed cheeks. you don’t stop there. driven by the lust addled, cock crazy part of your brain, you’re fully sending rick down your airway. breaths come briefly when he lets you up for air or to howl or cry, “dare’!”

right on time, your core is heating up again. the kiln inside of you scorches. neutralizing you, the ecstasy of another orgasm has you nearly folding into your leader. the blue eyed sheriff even leans back, tugging you up by the hair to keep you from actually choking on his cock. daryl’s diligent puckering around all of your important parts is overwhelming you against, a strategic hand on your clit as well.

as if you were all in sync, rick comes in your mouth first, fingers weaving through your gossamer locks while your thighs quake. you gag at first, before swirling your tongue under the twitching cock and swallowing it all. like a good girl.

once rick’s coming undone, daryl continues swirling his tongue around you. your pussy weeps for him. it contracts around his tongue until even rick’s raising his eyebrows at the vulgar slurping sounds filling the room.

“dare’,” you whine.

“gonna’ be a good girl and come all over dare’s tongue?” rick teases.

“yes, please!” you beg, banging a fist against the sheets.

“you gonna’ let daryl taste all of that perfect pussy?”

tears well in your eyes from the overstimulation but you nod as enthusiastically as possible. “pleeaase!”

you don’t have to ask again because you’re too busy arching into your third orgasm of the day. clenching and unclenching, your insides flutter. “ah!”

“so pretty when you come, baby.”

you’re dissolving into rick’s touch as your climax rings through your cunt. starry eyed and panting the pleasure out through your lungs.

you could fall asleep right there. and you do.

it ends as it always does.

following the flush and the lips leaving the surface of your skin, you feel a familiar fabric traveling up your thighs and double kisses mandating that nap that had been on your mind. the bed and the cozy comfort of sleep swallows you whole. rick too. he can never get close enough, not when you’re wearing his boxers.

#the walking dead #rick grimes #daryl dixon #twd smut #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #twd #twd imagine #twd rick #twd daryl #rick grimes x reader #daryl dixon x reader #rick x reader #rick grimes imagine #daryl dixon imagine #rickyl #rickyl x reader #rickyl smut #not beta read #f/m/m #risky s!x #p in v sex #getting it on in the great outdoors #aftercare #norman reedus #andrew lincoln #are neutron star collisions hot? I took astronomy but I don’t remember - astronomers chime in down below #established relationship #sorry the sequencing literally gives me whiplash #grimesgirll

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Okay forget what I said about the rollup, that was a perfect fucking ending, it was just like how their last fight ended. You know, without the choke.

#it was the same sequence #same exhausted hopeless scramble #sudden and final and definite #yet so very restless and open-ended #also their faces were a treat #aew lb #aew collision #samoa joe #cm punk

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Day 2. Personal experience?

.......

I mean... not with Dylan?

I think anon is likely referring to the sex scene in Day 2 of Collision Course Coachella? I'm not certain, but yeah. You can read the update HERE, or start it from the beginning HERE.

#dylan o'brien smut #dylan o'brien imagine #coachella smut #collision course coachella fic #collision course coachella ask #listen... hubs gives good fodder... what am I supposed to do? #he talks a bit less (most of the time) and if he winked at me like Dylan does in this I'd probably actually die... #so there are differences that I write in to capture DYLAN #but the overall sequence of events is not foreign to me #if that's what you're asking #;) #ask #anon #anon ask

[myillicitaffair]

Somethin’ Stupid | Charles Leclerc

Summary: while being interviewed by his former lover, bottled up feelings find their way out.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, lots of angst, some swearing, arguments.

Notes: this is the first time i’m ever posting anything on here, i hope you enjoy it xx

1.5k words.

Letting myself fall into his abrasive webs was surprisingly easy. His green orbs, pervasive and curious, piercing my soul.

We had our ups and downs, unbridled passion slowly dying with each tear shed, magnetic attraction burning my lungs.

We found ourselves in a hiatus, which found a way of prolonging itself further than I would have liked to. Perhaps he managed to keep himself occupied with his busy schedule; trainings, special dietary requirements, public relations… as for me, I rather hold my silence.

My routine was overflowed with his voice, with how much I missed his touch on my lower back, guiding me through the crowds, our hands intertwined in a tacit promise.

However, life demanded to continue with apparent normality. Dinner parties surrounded by friends, rounds of drinks avoiding alcohol… The last thing I needed was to degrade myself into a melancholic drunkenness.

Was he also having a hard time with the abysmal coldness on the other side of the bed or the loneliness of not having anyone to dilute your sorrow over morning coffee with?

My days had fallen into a sort of routine; waking up while missing him, showering while missing him, having breakfast while missing him… I think you get how thing are.

This particular morning, Silverstone was extraordinarily cloudy, the mist engulfing my view from the hotel room. How fitting!

Running away from my surreptitious misfortunes, I head downstairs, soaking up the competitive environment prior to every race. Emboldened as an agitated swarm, my colleges and me descended on the designated circuit.

Tedious security controls accompanied the anticipated fun, a hammer already pounding into my head at the thought of seeing him face to face once more.

Walking towards the space where the press was condensed, I check the days schedule for the last time. I am lucky enough to maintain friendly interactions with most drivers, so as to achieve fluid interviews, keeping the audience on the edge of their seats.

The only reason I can find as to why that fateful name is written on my list of drivers to interview was that God and I clearly have some unresolved business… funny timing to make me pay the price though!

A lump gets stuck in my throat just by thinking about it, preventing regular air flow.

The countdown only stuns me, even though my duty doesn’t start until the last lap. The smell of burnt rubber, product of speeding wheels, fills my lungs while intoxicating my nostrils.

The continuous lights turn red with overwhelming precision as seconds go by, lightning up the faces hidden with baklavas and iconic helmets.

Unconsciously (or maybe not so much), my eyes crawl back to the speeding number “16” that, red and furious, slides around the circuit while attempting to memorize every bump and curve along the way.

Chasing the sequence with collective looks of astonishment, a collision comes rushing down, disabling Piastri and Norris by the arrogance that only clear disagreements gives you.

Without further issues, the race concludes with a podium conformed by both Red Bull Racing drivers, trailed by seven time world champion Lewis Hamilton.

As possessed by group madness, the journalists rush into the victors. Microphone in hand, cameras shadowing us, content hunger gushing from our pores.

Driven by a exacerbated sadness, I shift my focus from the winners to him, returning my gaze with clouded tear ducts, bottled up frustration visible in his features.

With a touch on my shoulder, I’m brought back to reality by a co-worker, who, with a subtle shift of her head signals my awaiting obligations.

I head towards my press conference, where I take a seat with my name on it, psyching myself up for what I’m sure will be the most awkward interview of my whole career.

Dressed in Ferrari clothing and constantly stalked by flashes, both pilots near the platform where I await. They settle into their designated spots, holding still until the cameraman says otherwise.

I steal one last glance at my premeditated questions and hide my true feelings behind a focused frown.

“Welcome dear viewers! We find ourselves in the eleventh race of the year, accompanied once more by our friends from Ferrari, Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz.”

I desperately try stabilizing the noticeable shake in my voice.

“Friend”- the Monegasque interrupts my monologue with a mocking remark.

The puzzled look his teammate throws in his direction doesn’t go unnoticed by the former, who insists on jointing his glistening irises with mine.

I decide to ignore the brief impasse in the speech, running away from his calculated sarcasm as I force the corners of my mouth into an attempted smile.

“so, Carlos… do you think driving behind two cars that crushed ruined your performance?”- I question, tripping over my words under Charles´s scrutiny.

“It´s safe to say it wasn’t an unexpected accident”- the Spaniard pronounces, doing his best at minimalizing the awkwardness- “for at least a couple of laps, Oscar and Lando were teasing each other, clearly trying to gain advantage over the other. They were lucky enough neither of them got hurt.”

I nod absent minded, vibrating due to the pounding against my ribcage.

“Charles, what can you tell us about your engineers’ strategy for this race?”- I swallow loudly, praying he can´t notice the mesmerizing effect he has on me.

“I guess you could say I’m not entirely satisfied with my team´s execution this season”- he confesses, minimizing the tingles of frustration running down his spine- “It would also be quite unfair dumping the blame on my team when my failure has more to do with me letting my emotions get the best of me.”

The tension is intercepted by a longing sigh I didn’t know I was withholding. The world seems to stop in its euphoria simply to hang in his every sentence.

“A broken heart is no joke… even less when you have to patiently wait for the piece they decide to donate you”- he reproaches without saying my name but making it perfectly clear that I was indeed the recipient of his raw address.

My anxious movements become motionless, forgetting the when and where, just to focus on the displeasure bubbling in my stomach.

“Guys, I really don´t think it’s appropriate to discuss this now”- intercepts the Madrilenian, proposing a ceasefire.

Mi hand goes up in the air before I can help it, shutting him up mercilessly.

“I wonder where I must´ve learned it…”- I reply, drowning in the unexpected harshness of my tone- “don´t forget who was the one to suggest this ´no strings attached´ bullshit between us.”

The drivers face shines with a scandalous blush in response to my bravado. Right here and there, I comprehend the dept of his anger, making its way through his collarbones, until it climbs up his cheeks.

“Just because I thought that’s what you wanted”- he spits out his resentful response.

From the corner of my vision, I perceive Carlos´s discomfort by reading his body language; the friction of wiping away the sweat stagnant on his hands, his shoulders pouring forward in a clumsy attempt of hiding from the cameras, his chair weakly shaking under the constant bouncing of his extremities.

Madness atrophies my reasoning, blinding me enough as to not have merci on his apprehension. I took this way too far, it would be useless to swallow my feelings.

“how in the world could you think our agreement benefitted me? Really, Charles, you couldn’t be any more stupid!”- I scream back, jumping up from my seat.

The swing of my feet gets ahead of my thoughts, allowing me to run away from the premature conflict before it blows up in the air.

Mi face heats up from the warmth of my own tears, that start rolling down my cheeks. With each involuntary spasm of my jaw, sobs escape my gasps for air. I don’t dare to slow down.

“Can you please just listen to me?”- a voice behind me shouts, trying to stand by my side.

I turn around to face his scrunched up brows.

“you have nothing else left to make up. You may convince somebody with the whole ´heartbreak boy´ façade you’ve got going on, but you have genuinely driven me mad”

“You and I both now that isn’t true! Have you ever wondered why I always seem to take a step back after every show of affection?”- he manages to freeze me to the core- “How come you never noticed my excessive efforts to stay away from you? I can’t even behave like a functional human being if I’m not feeling you, touching you, having you with me.”

In the middle of the paddock, with every pair of eyes set on us, events unfold the way I’ve been dreaming of, however I can´t even react.

“I know I´m not in a position to ask you anything, but please, strip me from the torment that uncertainty means… even if that means to completely destroy me”- he whispers with renewed fragility.

My smirk slowly becomes uncontrollable laughter, reducing me to unbridled chuckles. I shelter the vestiges of my giggling in between his arm, until It ceases in its intensity.

Without noticing, I search for his lips with my own, craving the heat they irradiate.

“I think you know perfectly well how my soul aches for you”- I manage to sneak in between kisses, stumbling across his smile, displayed in all its glory.

#charles leclerc #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #ferrari #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 fic #red bull f1 #red bull racing #imagine #argentina #Spotify

[lee-em-dee]

A Sequence Analysis of the 6x13 Bellarke Reunion

[a.k.a. the final scene of The 100 because Jroth can Jrot in hell]

After a grim conversation between Bellamy and Jordan, the sequence transitions to a warmly lit, wide angle perspective of the reunion at Sanctum. Friends and lovers “meet again,” hugging, kissing, reconciling in a series of action shots: Miller & Jackson, Murphy/Emori & Raven, Jackson & Echo. The sound of their laughter cuts through the uplifting strains of the melody playing [GAITS “Other Side”]. Against the show’s constant onslaught of death and destruction, the beauty in these brief flashes of joy isn’t lost on us; it’s fleeting, but it’s potent. We’re back at the gates of Arkadia in 2x16, only this time around, prospects for the future aren’t quite so bleak, nor is it “getting dark, too dark to see” beneath “that cold black cloud [coming] around” [RAIGN “Knocking on Heaven’s Door”].

Instead, the refrain “I know I’ll see you on the other side” embodies a sense of hope and certainty while also referencing Jasper’s parting words in S4. Unlike his nihilistic outlook, however, the soft, inviting quality of these opening shots seems to suggest that there’s light at the end of the tunnel—a glimpse at the other side of heaven’s door, where peace prevails and war is a distant memory.

As this undertone of cautious optimism resonates, the frame is swallowed up by a dark mass of faceless bodies. The music slows, the crowd parts, and exposed in the center of the frame is Clarke Griffin—a solitary, motionless figure within a stream of movement. Her silent presence isolates her from the liveliness of her surroundings. From the side angle of the camera in the shadowy foreground only her profile is visible, yet the expression on her face is noticeably stunned. We’re left with a sense of anticipation. Where is her gaze focused? What commands her attention so fiercely, stopping her in her tracks and arresting her movements? The anticipation builds, and, with it, the percussive intensity of the music. Soft vocalizations trail after “the other side,” echoing in our ears as we --

Cut to a reverse shot of Bellamy. He makes his way to his people, but it’s clear that the words exchanged with a disillusioned Jordan weigh on him. His eyes are fixed on the ground, brows furrowed, a pensive expression reflecting his weary frame of mind. It’s the aftermath of yet another battle, another spoke on a wheel that spins and spins, unleashing more devastation with each turn. We, as the audience, can only hope that this is the end of its vicious cycle. He’s lost in thought, but a glance ahead has his eyes snagging on something out of shot. No, someone. Bellamy’s steps falter for a beat, then his eyes widen a fraction. He’s mesmerized.

On the receiving end of his gaze, Clarke sharply exhales. The steady pulsing of the music stutters before the rhythm picks up in rapid sixteenth notes, akin to a heartbeat that skips, flutters, then pounds. Energy thrums in the single look that they share; everything else seems to melt away as they fixate on each other, as the tether that binds them together tugs, as the distance between twin souls is bridged.

We’re hit with the crescendo of the music, punctuated by the sustained beat of the drums. It’s booming. A fluid tracking shot follows Clarke as she launches herself away from the crowd into Bellamy’s open arms, and the force of their collision is shown through their synchronized exhalations of breath, through the swaying movement of their bodies pressed tightly together. Like cymbals crashing, they meet in the middle of the frame. The blocking instantly establishes a bubble of intimacy around them that blocks out the rest of the world as they completely obscure the figures (“girlfriend”) in the background. Refracted light slices across the screen at an angle, tracing the points of contact between these two people who radiate warmth and ignite under a single touch.

The music swells. Their embrace is set to the bridge “oh wait for me in fields of gold,” and as they hold each other, lost to a symphony of grief and elation, we get the sense that in each other’s arms these two broken beings are very much found. It’s a homecoming.

Clarke burrows her face into Bellamy’s neck. The sun beaming in the background sends scattered light over his shoulder, captured as flare in the camera lens. Not only does this element add a layer of visual impact and aesthetic beauty to the shot, but it also intensifies the climactic moment when their bodies collide. Tension is built and built until it finally snaps; in doing so, emotional catharsis (for both the characters and for the audience) is maximized. The combination of the lens flare and camera movements makes for a striking, visually dynamic shot with epic romantic overtones. In their reunion a sense of rightness is restored, which has remained a consistent theme of the show for six seasons. When the camera finally settles, what’s captured is the sheer magnetism of the moment. Nearby murmured conversations are unable to overtake the melody, and the bustling movements of the crowd are unable to break that hypnotic hold they have on each other.

Clarke clings to Bellamy; now, more than ever, it’s evident that her love for him is a refuge, her strength in times of weakness. Even so, sorrow threatens to overtake the solace found in his embrace; Bellamy immediately senses this, rubs a soothing pattern across her back. With brows drawn, he nestles his face against her shoulder as if to will her pain away.

We cut to a dynamic two shot, with Bellamy occupying the left side of the frame and Clarke the right. Both seem reluctant to part, and as they do, harsh realities set in. Bellamy delivers the sobering line, “I heard about Abby.” Like a death knell, its implications land on Clarke and reverberate through this gentle, short-lived moment of peace. Her face crumples. With a despondent shake of her head, she manages, “I tried to do better. I did.” Bellamy can only nod. His strained expression conveys how the mere sight of Clarke’s pain is excruciating to him. A sharp intake of breath from her—“And then I lost my mom.” The tremor in her voice betrays her composure; the words catch in her throat, imparting a strangled quality to the line.

Her mother’s death clings to her. It’s reflected in her head-to-toe black attire, in the misery painted on her face. The weight of impossible decisions looms (how tragic that her mother’s endangerment was what drove her to pull the lever back in Mount Weather), and it seems that, this time around, the burden is too heavy to carry alone. “Tell me it was worth it,” she pleads to Bellamy, barely choking the words out as she battles tears. “Tell—tell me it was worth it.” In deep anguish Bellamy watches Clarke unravel before his eyes. With gentle words he tries to piece her back together. “Hey—Hey, we did. We did do better.”

This entire verbal exchange is filmed as a continuous arc shot that swings back and forth on an axis (Bellamy -> Clarke / Clarke -> Bellamy) with the sun acting as the focal point between them. The shot—much like their soul-deep connection—remains unbroken and uninterrupted. Rather than keeping a fixed, static position, the camera’s movements allow us to feel the push-pull emotional tension of the scene. It orbits Bellamy and Clarke in a way that cinematically mirrors the gravitational pull they feel towards each other. For years and years, the two have danced around each other. Though distance and time separated them, they’ve always been inextricably tied together in common orbit. Like binary stars, Bellamy and Clarke orient themselves around a shared barycenter. Their center of gravity—the sun flaring at the center of the frame—coincides with the show’s key thematic elements: forgiveness, rebirth, redemption. The rising of the sun marks the start of a new day and, with it, another chance to do better.

With each dizzying motion of the camera, flashes of light shine between their silhouettes, obscured only to re-emerge seconds later as lens flare; The sequence, as a whole, is a study in subtle contrasts: the contrast between the white sun in the background, the light glinting off the water, the pale gold of the sky + of Clarke’s hair vs Bellamy and Clarke’s shadowy figures captured in low-exposure, the darkness of their clothing, Bellamy’s black hair. This balance of light and shadows/brightness and darkness mirrors the tenuous balance between hope and despair driving the scene. In parallel, the despair that consumes Clarke is a darkness balanced out by Bellamy, who maintains a more optimistic outlook for the future and serves as her guiding light.

[Additional Note: These cinematic contrasts are also a perfect illustration of the concept of yin and yang—the cosmic duality that reflects Bellamy and Clarke’s “head and heart” relationship. The two are equal, seemingly opposing forces but, in actuality, function in such a way that enforces their complementary and interdependent nature: One cannot exist without the other, and both are connected as two halves of a whole in perfect equilibrium. Yin and yang—the head and the heart—do not act as isolated parts, but rather continuously influence and interact with each other to bring forth balance and harmony.]

Hope.

In spite of everything, it shows its presence in the vibrant yellow tones of a scene filmed at golden hour; the honeyed glow creates a dreamy, inviting atmosphere, giving off a quality of softness and romanticism that balances out the heaviness of their conversation. Hope echoes in the melody as it conveys the inevitability of reuniting with a loved one in this life or the next: “It’s not the end. It’s all I know…I know I’ll see you, I know I’ll see you on the other side.” (In other words, we will meet again). Hope is felt through the warmth of two lovers embracing, the warmth of the rising sun on their faces.

As we cut to a final close-up shot of Bellamy, he delivers the last line of the scene with resolve: “I have to believe that that matters,” he murmurs softly, brows knit in concern. His eyes search Clarke’s, but her teary gaze is cast low as she chokes down a sob. Her close-up shot captures the internal conflict taking place:

 It’s a mental battle—grappling with the urge to fall apart or to suppress the vortex of raw emotion churning inside her. Bleary-eyed, she turns away from Bellamy as if every instinct screams at her to flee, to bear the burden alone. Still, an unspoken conversation anchors her to the spot: “Together.” “I got you for that.” “I need you.” “If I’m on that list, you’re on that list.” “The heart and the head.” “You don’t have to do this alone.” Though devastation lines her face, the morning sunrise bathes her skin in light. Clarke draws a shaky breath. She turns back to Bellamy, then nods: a decision has been made. The camera switches from this close-up of Clarke to a hazy, low exposure medium shot as she leans into Bellamy, drawing strength from him (notice its resemblance to Miller and Jackson’s reunion). They wrap their arms around each other, and their bodies meld together. Clarke tucks her chin onto Bellamy’s shoulder. The immediate relief that she’s flooded with is palpable. She closes her eyes and sighs, and Bellamy rubs her back consolingly. The visual of their merging silhouettes—reminiscent of two suns eclipsing just above the horizon line—composes the final frame of the scene before the shot dissolves with a last “I know I’ll see you on the other side.”

There’s a true sense of finality to this closing shot which sets it apart from others before it—or, rather, establishes it as a culmination of every moment in Bellamy and Clarke’s “exhausting” history to get to this state of perfect alignment. The hug, in particular, serves as a departure from previous seasons’ hug scenes in which an interruption was often required to progress the conflict and reestablish some semblance of distance between the two of them.

In this season, however, though death and distance and other outside forces conspired to separate Bellamy and Clarke...they, against all odds, end it with bodies intertwined, defenses stripped away, never more unified both physically and emotionally: the heart and the head joined together in perfect equilibrium. Two bodies, two souls breathing, moving, thinking, and working as one.

#bellarke #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #the 100 #s6 is for hot people with good taste fight me on it

[gragrace]

Unraveled Tensions��

Summary: "Unraveled Tensions" follows the Specncer and Y/N as they tackle a complex murder case, with Spencer Reid and Y/N engaging in intense intellectual competition amidst the investigation. Their professional rivalry escalates to heated arguments and the reveal of something more than academic rivalry

WC: 1566

AN: Angst is my middle name...

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The BAU team found themselves in the midst of a complex case involving a series of gruesome murders that left the entire city on edge. The victims, all seemingly unrelated, shared a common thread of intricate, staged crime scenes. While the urgency of solving the case weighed heavily on the team, Spencer Reid and Y/N were more focused on outdoing each other than on solving the case. 

It all began during the morning briefing when Y/N confidently presented a piece of evidence. "Did you know, Reid, that the pattern of these murders matches the Fibonacci sequence?" Y/N smirked, challenging Reid's renowned intellect. 

Spencer furrowed his brow, not one to back down. "Interesting, but the Fibonacci sequence is just one aspect. The geographical locations also align with a potential mathematical pattern based on prime numbers." 

Their colleagues exchanged glances, clearly picking up on the tension. Hotch cleared his throat. "Let's stay focused on the case, team." 

As the investigation progressed, the competitive banter between Reid and Y/N escalated. They contradicted each other's theories, questioned each other's deductions, and even challenged each other's profiling skills. 

One evening, as they were reviewing case files in the dimly lit bullpen, the tension reached its peak. Hotch, Gideon, and the rest of the team watched silently as Reid and Y/N engaged in a heated argument. 

"I can't believe you would dismiss my theory without even considering it, Reid!" Y/N snapped. 

"And I can't believe you're so quick to jump to conclusions without proper evidence!" Reid shot back. 

Gideon intervened, his patience wearing thin. "Enough! Both of you, go home and figure out how to work together. We can't afford this discord in the team."  

Fuming, Reid and Y/N found themselves outside the building, caught in a standoff. The night air was thick with tension, and suddenly, their bickering took an unexpected turn. 

"You think you're always right, don't you, Reid?" Y/N snapped, eyes blazing. 

"At least I base my conclusions on facts, not wild guesses," Reid retorted, a hint of condescension in his tone. 

Y/N scoffed, "Facts? More like irrelevant statistics that no one cares about." 

 Reid shot back, "Irrelevant? It's called being thorough, something you might want to try." 

Their exchange escalated, each word a sharp weapon in their verbal sparring match. The night became a battleground of intellect, their voices echoing in the deserted parking lot. 

"You're insufferable!" Y/N exclaimed, frustration evident in her voice. 

"And you're intolerably stubborn!" Reid shot back. 

"You're so difficult, Reid," Y/N finally spoke, voice dripping with frustration. 

"And you're impulsive, letting your emotions cloud your judgment," Reid retorted. 

In a sudden surge of emotion, Y/N shoved Reid against the wall, the impact echoing their internal turmoil. "You don't get it, do you?" Y/N whispered, their breath mingling with Reid's. "This isn't just about the case. It's about you and me, about the fractured mess we've become." 

Reid's eyes bore into Y/N's, a turbulent storm of emotions reflected in his gaze. "I don't need distractions. I need solutions." 

Y/N, infuriated by Reid's stoic resolve, crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. It was a desperate attempt to break through the walls he had built, to shatter the carefully constructed facade. 

For a moment, the world around them ceased to exist. The kiss was fueled by frustration, longing, and the acknowledgment of a connection that transcended their bitter rivalry. It was a collision of two opposing forces, a turbulent dance between chaos and order. The kiss was messy, certainly not romantic, but a culmination of the hate and passion they felt for one another. 

When they pulled away, their breaths mingling, a realization settled between them. The tension wasn't just a byproduct of the case or their conflicting methodologies – it was a reflection of the unresolved emotions that had festered beneath the surface. 

Reid's expression softened, a vulnerability breaking through the façade. "This...this changes nothing," he muttered, almost convincing himself. 

Y/N, still caught in the whirlwind of emotions, simply nodded. The unspoken agreement hung heavy in the air – they couldn't undo what had transpired, but they could choose how to navigate the aftermath. 

The next evening, as they worked late in the bullpen, the unspoken tension became too palpable to ignore. Y/N, her voice hesitant, broached the subject that had been looming over them. "Reid, we can't keep avoiding the elephant in the room. We need to talk about what happened." 

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Y/N. It's just... this complicates things." 

She nodded, a mixture of frustration and understanding in her eyes. "I get it, Reid. But if we don't address this, it's going to affect the team even more than we already have." 

The truth in her words hung in the air, a heavy reminder of the responsibility they carried as members of the BAU. With a shared nod, they decided to confront the unresolved issues that had lingered between them. 

Sipping their coffees, Reid began, "I've been thinking about why we clash so much, and I realized there might be more to it than just our differing opinions." 

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curious about Reid's perspective. 

"I've always admired your intelligence," Reid admitted. "But I think it frustrated me that someone could challenge my ideas and theories. I'm used to being the 'know-it-all,' and having someone who could keep up was both threatening and intriguing." 

Y/N chuckled, "So, your problem is an ego thing?" 

Reid blushed, "Well, not entirely. It's just... I didn't know how to handle it. And maybe I projected that frustration onto you." 

Y/N nodded, "Fair enough. I guess I've been guilty of the same. I wanted to prove that I could be just as brilliant, if not more so, than the great Spencer Reid. It became a competition, and we lost sight of the bigger picture." 

Reid sighed, "Maybe we should learn to appreciate each other's strengths rather than seeing them as threats." 

Their conversation took a more introspective turn as they discussed their personal insecurities and how it had fueled their constant clashes. The coffee shop became a safe space for them to open up, and as the barriers between them crumbled, a newfound understanding emerged. 

The was raw and uncomfortable, filled with admissions of pride, ego, and the acknowledgment of their own shortcomings. The wounds of their clashes were laid bare, and the process of healing began. It was a delicate journey, marked by moments of vulnerability and shared introspection. 

Days turned into weeks, and as they navigated the intricacies of rebuilding their fractured dynamic, a gradual shift occurred. The tension that had defined their interactions transformed into a cautious camaraderie. Shared glances turned into genuine smiles, and the once-avoided conversations became a pathway to understanding. 

The team, observing the subtle changes, couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The collaborative spirit that had been tested in the crucible of conflict emerged stronger, a testament to the resilience of the BAU. 

As the days passed, Spencer and Y/N found themselves working together seamlessly, their shared victory serving as a bridge between the past and the present. The scars remained, but they were no longer open wounds. The lessons learned from their tumultuous journey had forged a connection rooted in mutual respect and a shared commitment to the work they did. 

Late one evening, as they sat in the quiet of the bullpen, surrounded by the hum of computers and the distant echoes of the city, Y/N spoke, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. "Reid, I never thought we'd get here." 

He looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Neither did I. But sometimes, the most challenging journeys lead to the most unexpected destinations." 

The sentiment lingered in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the growth that had emerged from the chaos. The BAU, once tested by internal conflicts, stood united once again. Spencer Reid and Y/N, having navigated the storm together, found themselves on the other side – stronger, wiser, and bound by a shared understanding that transcended the trials they had faced. 

Spencer: Hey, Y/N, can I ask you something? 

Y/N: Of course, Spencer. What's on your mind? 

Spencer: Well, uh, I was wondering... Would you ever, you know, want to go on a date? 

Y/N:  Really, Spencer? Are you asking me out? 

Spencer: Yeah, I mean, if you're comfortable with that. I just thought it could be nice... 

Y/N:  I'd like that, Spencer. I'd really like that. 

Spencer: Oh, good. I was hoping you'd say that. I mean, I've never been great at this kind of thing, but you're... you're important to me, and I thought maybe we could spend some time together outside of work. 

Y/N: Spencer, It means a lot that you asked, and I appreciate your honesty. 

Spencer Reid: Great! That's great. I'll, uh, figure out some plans and let you know. Looking forward to it. 

Y/N: (playfully) I am too, Spencer. It's a date then. 

Spencer Reid: Yeah, it's a date. 

As they continued their work, the echoes of their past clashes served as a reminder of the fragility of human connections. The scars remained, etched into the fabric of their shared history, but they were now symbols of resilience rather than wounds of discord. The BAU moved forward, united by the strength that emerged from confronting internal conflicts and the unwavering commitment to the pursuit of justice. 

#criminal minds #mgg x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid x reader

[mastersoftheair]

"Masters of the Air details: Part 1-Graphics

"[...]I had the pleasure of working with the graphics department on many topics from navigation to mission planning, forms, manuals, research and just plain answering questions.

"Dan Burke was the department head but I mostly worked with Megan Jones and her wonderful pup Indy.

"When on set, like in one of the offices that you have seen in the first two episodes or anywhere else in the series, you will see bulletin boards, clip boards, file folders and in/out trays and typewriters filled with paperwork. If you were able to pick up one of these documents you will find actual 100th BG documents faithfully recreated and they are also pertinent to the specific time of the scene. And I am not just talking a page on top but all the way through the stack!

"The mission orders came in to the bomb groups via teletype machines and were printed out on special sized roll paper. Meg found a guy who had working WWII teletypes and then she found the exact paper. She printed up the correct mission reports and they were coming out of the machines and looked great!

"One of the things that Meg asked me about was the navigation paperwork. Crosby had several scenes where he was navigating and just what kind of paperwork would he have had?

"Charts, maps and navigators logs was the answer to begin with and I had brought examples of those with me to teach the actors how to look like they could navigate. I even had some of my Dad's paperwork and nav kit along. Meg recreated his bare nav log to use with Crosby's scenes.

"We then looked in to the mission routes so we could fill out the nav logs and mark the charts and big briefing wall map accurately. I dove in to the archives mission files that they had procured from sources in the US but since this was deep in the middle of COVID the archives were closed down and getting additional research information was problematic. The National Archives in the UK opened up and I was there on the weekend doing research. Instead of the multi generation degraded copies that production received from the US these files were all original and in perfect condition. Incredible stuff for sure with all of the photos complete with Air Ministry water marks on the back of the paper.

"In the mission files were the planned route of the mission and also the actual route flown which were often quite different. I dug in to the files and was able to plot out the planned and actual mission routes on charts that Meg had reproduced. For the pilot types reading this I also plotted all of the routes on ForeFlight to help with quick calculations for the headings as we actually put in the winds that were encountered and reported in the mission file. Meg ended up getting Foreflight so we could share the plots and work out the future missions.

"One of the things that I hadn't realized but was revealed in the reports was just how much time was spent in forming up the whole attacking armada. Each bomb group would all take off and form up over their own air field. Then they would go to specific assembly areas and form up the wings and full task force. It took two, three or more hours of flying just to do this over the UK before they headed toward fortress Europe. Amazing really and it explains why so many aircrew died during this from collisions climbing through the ugly weather. Hundreds and then thousands of aircraft all coming up through the heavy cloud layer on instruments trying not to hit each other. A lot of them did and a near miss sequence is depicted in the series.

"So when you see the paperwork, posters, maps, teletypes and amazing other details you can appreciate the efforts of Megan and the graphics department. And all of the other departments, Some of which I will try to highlight in future posts if this is of interest." - (Taigh Ramey on Facebook)

#this is like a treasure trove. to me! #masters of the air #hbo war #behind the scenes #long post #i haven't posted something this long in. a while (at least nothing so Wordy!)

[makapatag]

dagger-and-blowgun-fused-into-spear pamaagi

or: the transfer from dice pool to the violence dice in GUBAT BANWA

i've written about this in a longer devlog, but i wanted to take a secondary abridged (and personal) dive into the change. also i'll probably start releasing devlogs and essays back on my patreon soon because damn if that place isn't barren

gubat banwa is a game of larger than life martial heroes fighting for their convictions in a setting rooted on southeast asian folklores and cultures. before december, and even during its kickstarter, i was pretty set on the game being a dice pool system. i felt it accurately conveyed the feeling of that sekiro-esque back and forth: one attacks, the other defends. every dice is an attack launched, a sword swing, a gun breath to aim or part of a gun's loading sequence, an arrow trained on an enemy. every defense dice is an attempt at a parry. it was a cool concept! and there's definitely ways to make it sing and shine

unfortunately as with all game design choices, not every cool idea fits snugly into the greater whole--if i wanted my game to sing and shine, each component must work in tandem with the other components. it's a choir, or a puzzle--one mechanic slightly off is fine, one that's completely off kinda wrecks the entire thing

i found that the dice pool back and forth interaction more or less worked better for a more non-grid based combat game. one that works perhaps with zones and rules. one where the fiction zooms in to a specific exchange between the attacker and the defender. while this is also a game design objective of gubat banwa, it had to be in tandem with the fact that it is a tactical grid game as well. it had to put in mind that the mechanics were also focused on forced movement, collisions, reactive moments from other players, etc.

in a non-grid based combat game, where the focus is on that flurrious exchange only, then it might have worked. but that is unfortunately not the only important thing in gubat banwa's design goals.

additionally, sussing out and feeling out one's own tactical consequences were hugely obfuscated by the dice pool. the probabilities weren't as clear, the attack forecast was esoteric, and was even hard to properly model in an automated system. this detracted from the simple and tactical design of the game.

so the Violence Die was established. Each technique had a die or a number of dice that was rolled--this determined whether the attack hit and how much damage was. it was the attack roll and damage roll in one.

Essentially, making an attack goes like this: Roll Violence Dice (can add any bonuses to the Violence Die here) -> if higher than target's EVADE, keep going. Otherwise, the attack is avoided -> Add the defined attack Prowess (FEROCITY for physical attacks, SPIRIT magick attacks) and any other damage modifiers, including any additional damage dice -> the target then reduces that damage by their Defense (PARRY or RESILIENCE, as defined by the Technique) -> Apply the final damage to the target. This keeps going until the target gains Damage equal to or greater than their POSTURE, in which caste they are defeated as they are struck with a decisive blow.

The process of adding damage replaces the process of counting Hits. The process of reducing damage replaces the process of counting Parries and cancelling Hits. They reside in similar design mindspaces, and so with a simpler rolling mechanic I was more or less able to transfer the math to a more linear math while keeping the "exchange" feel of an attack. All because of the forced processes one must go down when rolling an attack that strikes home and is not avoided.

In the fiction, rolling Violence Dice is the attack attempt. The swinging of halberds, the lightning arrows loosed from the bow, the sword swings as the swordsman advances. If it is avoided, the target manages to back away, use the environment to avoid the attack, flip away, vault over, or otherwise completely avoid the attack.

If it hits home however, the target is forced to reckon: the damage applied and the bonus damage is the number of attack launched in the assault, or perhaps the precision of an attack, or perhaps the number of mantras and mudras uttered to cast a spell. They must attempt to PARRY it away, or they must test their RESILIENCE as the attack washes over them. Fireballs they block, with their armor or their shields or their bare forearms. Sword strikes they quickly move to meet with their own strikes, parrying and ducking and flipping over them.

Then, their Posture is shaken of course as they receive Damage. As they gain more Damage, the more they know that they are going to be open to a Decisive Blow, and so they must be tactical.

In physical play, rolling a single die has made things much snappier (and even in online play). The excitement of the roll is still there: there's a chance you might EVADE the attack completely, after all! the change has become beneficial for everyone--for those that like to describe their attacks, for those that just interface directly with the mechanics, and much more. this piece of tech arose after a particularly grueling game of D&D Onslaught.

before this, i even played with an attack - counterattack system, kind of like pbta "if you roll mid you also suffer harm", but it felt pretty counterintuitive for a tactics game where you're already using up a lot of resources to do things, and also one where the initiative is alternating (which already does the whole, you act the world reacts feel pretty well). attacking becomes a dangerous proposition for any fighter, which does not feel well when you're martial heroes.

the dice pool was a good idea but it was detrimental to the larger process of the tactics game. i had to balance that to really achieve the "martial arts tactics fantasy" that gubat banwa really wanted to achieve with its fighting mechanics.

i called this blowgun and dagger to spear because in seasian martial ways their blowguns were long enough to be shafts and their daggers were often placed on top of staffs to make spears. i combined the fictional sensibilities of the dice pool system with the easier and more transparent math of the Violence Die system to create a veritable spear of a mechanic

#gubat banwa #dev #gamedev #writing #rpg #dnd #southeast asia #waksdev

[dazais-guardian-angel]

Dazai truly has become Oda in every way imaginable now. :’ ) the final words he gives to Sigma are the exact same words Oda gives to Dazai in the original scene Asagiri wrote for the end of the Dark Era stage play, 後は頼んだよ, “I will leave the rest to you.”

And I really love the progression of the way his eyes look in this chapter, and how Sigma is allowed to have this moment of questioning and rebelling against all the faith Dazai had naturally been leading him to place in him up to this point, which is what I hoped would happen. He’s been confused ever since Dazai first chose him, and everything he’s ever known about how everyone sees/treats him turned upside down by Dazai’s words and actions, and just when he’s finally started to feel like he’s found some hope and lowered his guard, Dazai pulls him back underwater, instantly reinforcing all of Sigma’s trust issues and reinforcing that he should never believe in anyone, because (he thinks) everyone lives to manipulate other people. Dazai’s dark eyes here reinforce that, too, and the other panels around this point where they look white and hollow and demonic, all like Fyodor’s. He appears like an evil, looming force pulling him back under, trying to kill him, when Sigma is so close to the freedom of the air he desperately wants (aka free from pain, which is what he’s been seeking his whole life).

But then Dazai makes this face, and the first one I posted above, and Sigma understands, even without words, that Dazai doesn’t have evil intent: on the contrary, he actually is bound and determined to save his life -- and the light in his eyes comes out through this determination and kindness, arguably the most light we’ve ever seen his eyes have in the entire manga (in the “I leave the rest to you” panel too). The “No” could be Dazai wordlessly telling him to not leave the water, but my first assumption was that it was Sigma telling himself no, stopping his own train of thought about Dazai being the same as Fyodor and someone he shouldn’t have trusted -- he soon realizes why Dazai stopped him, and that he’s still going to try to save him, that he wasn’t wrong about him, and it’s all because Dazai’s earnest expressions get through to him.

And it’s just so heartwarming to see how far Dazai has come. :’ ) He tried so hard to save Sigma (doing the most physical action we’ve ever seen him do, really), did his best to be reassuring and comforting to him afterwards, and then reaffirmed his promise to ensure he escaped Meursault alive, his final words to Sigma echoing Oda’s and his last action being to save an orphan, just like Oda did in his last moments. Obviously Dazai isn’t actually going to die, he’ll be saved somehow, but I do think as of right now he really does think this is the end for him, and that he didn’t foresee the elevator dropping -- he was examining the wires a few chapters ago because he thought he might need to know how to open the doors in case Fyodor pulled an uno reverse, hence why he looks more annoyed than shocked when the water starts, but here, when the drop collision sequence is initiated, he looks genuinely shook in comparison. There’d be no reason for him to give the thumbs up if he knew more danger was on the way, either; that’d just be cruel. No, I don’t think he saw this coming, and it’s important that that turns out to be the case: it’s important that he spent what he believes to have been his last moments saving someone like Oda wanted for him, and doing what Oda would have done in the same situation. That doesn’t mean that it’s okay that Dazai throws his life away so easily, and cares so little for his own safety; he still has a long way to go in that regard. But it’s still so beautiful to see how much he’s changed, and how much he’s truly begun to embody Oda and his legacy; the fact that he messed up and miscalculated, because Dazai isn’t infallible, but in turn didn’t hesitate to use his last moments to save Sigma. Oda would be so proud for everything he did here. :’ ) 💖

There are a lot of options for how Dazai will be saved, and by who, but personally I hope (and I kind of expect) that Sigma chooses to not give up on him and ultimately plays a role in saving his life, to return the favor and repay him for his kindness. Not only would it be a beautiful way to initiate Sigma’s ADA entrance exam as people have said, but it would bring the Dazai > Atsushi > Sigma chain full circle: Dazai saved Atsushi at the start of the series, allowing him to (spiritually) save Sigma at sky casino thanks to the growth fostered in him by Dazai, and now finally, Sigma could potentially save Dazai thanks to Atsushi kickstarting his own growth (and Dazai continuing it). Fyodor is overly cocky right now and so tunnel-visioned on killing Dazai, it’s possible that he has no idea that Sigma managed to escape the elevator and is now a wild card; even if Sigma doesn’t go as far as killing Fyodor himself (which I don’t want, tbh; that’s endgame stuff arcs down the line and imo Nikolai and Dazai should be the ones involved with that), he could throw a wrench in the jailbreak duel, and help Dazai and Chuuya get out alive. It would be poetic, and only fitting, for Fyodor to underestimate and be outdone by the kind of person Dazai told him is the strongest in chapter 77 -- a self-proclaimed “ordinary man” -- who could only have the strength to take such action thanks to the chain of kindness that Oda originally started. 💖

#bungou stray dogs #bsd 106.5 #meta #this chapter was literally everything i could have wanted i am SO EMOTIONAL #I WILL NEVER BE OVER IT #ASAGIRI GIVING ME LITERALLY EVERYTHING I EVER COULD HAVE WANTED #DAZAI HAS GROWN SOOOO MUCH HE'S BECOME SO MUCH LIKE ODA I COULDN'T BE MORE PROUD 😭😭😭💖💖💖 #as soon as i saw that big panel of his face i was like........ he looks like oda......... ASAGIRI I SEE YOUUUUUU #AND THE FINAL WORDS #I SEE YOUUUUUUUUUU #ISTG IF DAZAI THINKS ABOUT ODA WHEN HE THINKS HE'S GONNA DIE BEFORE HE GETS SAVED I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST #ASAGIRI PLEASE THIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY I WILL CRYYYYYYY 😭🥺🥹💖 #Dazai was so much like Oda here and Sigma looked just like Atsushi in that one panel DONT TOUCH MEEEE #THIS WHOLE CHAPTER WAS SO PERFECT #I NEED SIGMA TO SAVE HIM NOW #the longest chapter we've gotten in AGES and it was a banger god bless #tbh i really needed this after season 4 lmao i needed a reminder of why i love this series so much :''''') something to soothe my rage #asagiri saw my bitterness at anime sigma and was like 'here u go babe i got your sigma and dazai and oda feast' #probably means next month will be short again and a pov change lmao 🥲💔 #gonna enjoy this while it lasts #anyway i was really happy to see that moment of Sigma getting mad even if it didn't last long (and for a beautiful reason) #because he Deserved that #(because that's what i wrote in my fic and i feel vindicated now even if that wasn't the main focus of this chapter looool oops-)

[alphaformation]

I can barely find any mutant mayhem Donnie x male reader fics so I was wondering if you could write one please I'll give you this 🍕 as a sign of my gratitude

I GOTCHU ANON (cracks knuckles) keep that pizza in the microwave for me. decided to write it paralleling them meeting april because I think any of these four being clumsy and flustered is cute. I'm still testing out formatting for requests and such so let me know if you guys have any feedback <3 not sure how i feel about the fic itself buuut... i think it's certainly done.

╭────────────.★..─╮ Blood in the water. ╰─..★.────────────╯

Mutant Mayhem; Donatello / Male!Reader Word Count: 1,560 Content Warnings: swearing, maybe internalized homophobia if you squint? but that wasn't the intention as I was writing it. Summary; After a head-on collision in the hallway, Donnie meets the boy of his dreams. Now all he has to do is keep his brothers from finding out about him.

“Sooo… Leo… how’d that date with April go?”

The banter as the four of them walked home carried on as it always has, the only difference being that they finally had some new material. It’d been months since they’d integrated at Eastman high, and things were still running smooth as ever. It was perfect!

Sure, maybe not everyone was so accepting, but when the four of them were expecting screams of horror and violent brutality from the humans, they could tolerate some sour glances and rude comments.

“Mikey how many times do I have to TELL you guys, it- it wasn’t a date!” 

“Uhh, you don’t have to tell us that,” Raph shot back. “We aaall heard her at Prom-”

Dialogue quickly overlapped as the three of them verbally dogpiled onto Leo, who was struggling to cut through the crosstalk.

“Well- hey, y’know– I can’t be the ONLY one who’s got a… well, a crush. C’mon! You gotta cut me some slack.”

“Even if we did,” interjected Donnie, “we’d do a waaaay better job of hiding it than you!”

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Donnie now realized the irony in that sequence of events, looking back to the morning that had followed that conversation. 

See, despite months of attending a crowded high school, Donnie hadn’t really taken the time to unlearn his habit of walking with his headphones on and his eyes closed. Really because it hadn’t resulted in any major tragedies up until then. 

He’d walked to first period so many times he could do it backwards, but as he cracked an eye open to gauge his turn into the classroom, he realized far too late that he’d… miscalculated. 

He tried to move back- to reorient himself, but the flow of movement in the hall behind him pushed him forward, and he collided hard with…

With…

Oh.

Time slowed down to a crawl as you were slammed against the locker, a moment passing as you recovered from the blow before you’d twisted around. Donnie had almost forgotten the circumstances that had led him here when he was forced against your chest instead of your back, looking up and seeing your face. 

Maybe it came as no surprise that Donnie had a bit of a weakness for cute boys. His brothers hadn’t caught on yet, but if you took a scrutinizing glance at his interests, you may notice the consistency. And currently, he was literally being smushed against the cutest guy he’d ever seen in real life, much like you mash two dolls together to indicate that they’re kissing. 

The awe he felt, though, was only a brief respite from the panic as he saw that your nose was bleeding.

“Ohhhh my gosh, I’m so sorry! It– it was the kid behind me, and I, My uh, my shell is making it– hard to get out, and-”

“Ugh- dude.” You grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back a bit, causing Donnie to realize that the hall was mostly empty now. 

You rubbed your head with a small wince, and were clearly about to turn and carry on with your business. 

“WAIT!” You turned back, raising a brow, and Donatello tensed at the realization of how loud he’d just shouted. 

“Can I at least walk you to the nurse’s office? I’m really sorry.” Wiping the blood away with your thumb (which was like, anime boy levels of hot, Donnie thought privately), you shrugged and gestured for him to follow. 

He did. Naturally. 

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Donnie didn’t know why he and his brothers kept meeting their love interests through near major accidents, but that collision was the start of something fantastic. 

He learned that day that your name was (y/n), and from then on just kept learning more and more phenomenal things about you. Another month seemed to fly by, with the two of you becoming fast friends. Not all of your interests overlapped, but as Donnie learned more of what you liked, the more it became what he liked too.

There was just one small hiccup. 

Donatello… really didn’t want his brothers to find out about you. As well as he’d managed to pretend not to be crushing on you big time, his brothers were like sharks when it came to that sort of thing. If they didn’t know he liked guys before, he was convinced they’d be able to tell just by your presence - like you were blood in the water.

It was going smoothly enough so far, though. The only class you shared was Computer Science, and, well... Let's just say Donnie's brothers weren't exactly jumping at the chance to sign up for that elective.

As he left the building that day to meet his brothers in his usual spot, He found himself once again glued to his phone, takking away at your DMs.

"Ack-!" "Aah!!"

Donnie reared back from the minor bump, flushing a little as he glanced up.

"Dude, you ever gonna stop bumping into me?"

"Uhh... nah. Too much work. Not my fault you're always standing right in my way." He responded, smiling when that earned him a chuckle. "What're you doing out here anyways? Don't you usually take the bus?"

"Yeah, but I've gotta stop by the store on my way home, so I'm walking. Don't you and your brothers usually walk home together? I could tag along."

"Uh."

Fuck.

"Well. Yeahh.. We do. But, we kind of.. Live in the sewer?"

"...Yeah? I remember. I'd only walk part-ways."

"Right, well, uh... I mean-"

"DONNIE!" Raph grabbed both his shoulders from behind, startling a yelp out of him as he whipped around.

"Oh, uh-- Hey guys!"

"What gives? We've been waiting at the spot for like.." Mikey glances at his phone, "..Well, only like three minutes, but you're usually there first."

"Guys, chill out, I told you he was probably just leaving class with someone else."

"Yup mystery solved-- bye (y/n), let's go guys!!"

Wrong move. Donnie could feel he'd messed up when all three of his brothers turned their heads to him.

Blood in the water.

"Woooah, chill out bro, we're not in a rush. So you're (y/n)? I don't think we've met." Mikey turned to you.

You nodded, "In the flesh. And you're... Mikey, Raph, and Leo?" You pointed to each of them as you recalled their names. "I was just asking if I could walk with you guys."

"Hah- well- I don't think we--" "Oh, totally!" "Yeah man, feel free!"

"I'm sure Donnie would love that,"

Donnie exchanged glares with each of his brothers, huffing before pulling up a reluctant smile.

"Yeah, uh.. what they said!"

"Awesome!"

And so you tagged along as they began walking. It wasn't all bad, Donnie just had to keep his cool and remain nonchalant. Shouldn't be too hard.

"So, we still on for tonight?" You asked, bumping your shoulder against Donnie's.

"Duh- Especially since it's my turn to pick."

"I am not watching One Piece, just FYI."

"You two got a nerd date or something?" Raph interjected. Donnie frowned at him, feeling his fists ball up, but was surprised to hear you laugh easily.

"Kind of. It's a cultural exchange." With one hand gesturing as you speak, the other sneaks its way around Donnie's arm.

Kind of? It was kind of a date? and you were holding his arm??

Donnie glanced down at where you'd held onto him, before his eyes narrowed in a smug glance in Raph's direction. His brother, on the other hand, had his mouth hanging slightly open; his brows furrowed down.

Donnie ran his lip between his teeth before he adjusted his arm, sliding his hand down into yours. It felt.. right. He brushed along your knuckles, how small each of them were under his three-fingered hands- and his heart threatened to melt when you squeezed in return. The dialogue that continued between you and his brothers faded to white noise at that feeling.

"Alright, this is where I've gotta part ways. It was nice meeting you all!"

You leaned down, pressing a quick peck into Donnie's cheek.

"see you tonight!"

You were gone before Donnie could even process what'd happen, an incoherent exhale of noise escaping him as his brothers began hollering.

"WOAH WOAH WOAH. DONNIE?? IS HE YOUR BOYFRIEND??" "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US??"

Donnie's brain kicked into action finally, looking away with a rub to the back of his neck.

"I ahh..... y'know, we're not really sure yet?- kind of uhh.... testing the waters and stuff..?" He lied, shooting a glance over his shoulder to assure you weren't in earshot.

"Dang, you really DO have some rizz after all!"

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

(y/n) today at 5:14 all good to have you over for the night!

TELLO 🧠💪 today at 5:15 cool cool! so uh... can i ask what the smooch was about earlier??

(y/n) today at 5:18 oh, yeah, sorry!! i just noticed your brothers were teasing you about me figured i'd lean into it & get them to back off lol see you in ten?

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Donatello huffed, staring at that message for a long few minutes. Well, that TOTALLY answered his question.

Not.

But.. At least he'd learned that you apparently weren't opposed to holding his hand and kissing his cheek. Even if it was something of a performance.

Maybe tonight, he could get a private show.

There was only one way to find out.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

TELLO 🧠💪 today at 5:22 yup! on my way

#mutant mayhem x reader #donatello x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt #mutant mayhem #mm donnie #mm leo #mm raph #mm mikey #mm donnie x reader #donnie x reader #tmnt imagines #tmnt fic

[earthstellar]

Transformers: Lost Media Post!

So, as with any long-running franchise, there are a few bits of Transformers media lost or presumed lost (might exist but has not been publicly released, is in private ownership, was never included in a final cut or broadcast copy, etc).

The Lost Media Wiki has organised some of this lost media into helpful pages, which I will link and summarise here for anyone interested! :)

The Transformers: The Movie (1986) - Missing Scenes

The movie itself obviously isn't lost, but there are scenes from the film that appeared to be fully animated but not included in the final release of the film that have never been located.

At least one scene was fully storyboarded, suggesting it made it far enough into production to possibly have been animated which may have then gone missing as it was never made available as part of any final cut or subsequent release.

[The screenshot above is taken from the YouTube video of the scene, available on the Lost Media Wiki page; The link in the paragraph above goes to the collection of Sunbow Animation storyboard archives, which includes other missing script-only or storyboarded-only sequences from the film during various stages of development.]

Some scenes/shots shown in trailers for the film were at least animated in part but never included in the final version of the film.

G1 Transformers Missing Japanese Clip Show Episodes: 戦え! 超ロボット生命体 トランスフォーマー

11 unique clip show episodes in total were made for the Japanese release of G1, none of which have ever been found.

The content of the clip shows is unknown, only that they re-used animation and possibly scenes left intact from prior/other episodes (it is unclear how exactly they may have been edited or re-dubbed to make a unique clip show episode), and they have never been included on any Japanese regional DVD, VHS, or other official collections of Transformers Japanese language media.

Transformers Victory: Japanese Language Clip Show Episodes

Although the English dub versions of Transformers Victory by Omni Productions have been made available by Shout! Factory, as with the prior G1 missing clip shows, there are 6 unique Japanese broadcast only clip show episodes of this series which have been lost.

There are an additional 6 Japanese only home video/VHS episodes, five of which have been found on the Pioneer DVD releases, but one of which remains missing.

Found Missing Media: Transformers RID - Spychangers to the Rescue

This one is an example of the types of edits made to many animated shows following 9/11, in which many shows featuring anything involving explosions, city settings, planes, the Twin Towers themselves (or references to any of these things or anything similar) were heavily edited to remove any such content, with the originals never getting re-broadcast or re-released.

(Shows that could not be edited, for example shows that entirely took place in New York where backgrounds would constantly show the Twin Towers etc., were never re-aired in most cases, or only re-aired many years later/released on a direct to DVD basis.)

The reason this episode was re-dubbed is because the original plot involved a generator which would explode if impacted and release gas across the city, which may have resembled or otherwise brought to mind the large dust clouds caused by the collapse of the Twin Towers a little too closely for the broadcasters to feel comfortable leaving the original dialogue about gas and explosions intact.

It was changed in an attempt to lessen the emphasis on explosion and potential harm to the city.

The threat of explosion featured as a major concern in the episode also may have resembled the initial belief that perhaps a bomb had gone off in the Twin Towers, before most people realised it was actually a collision from a plane that caused the first visible damage to the first tower-- It took a moment for people to figure out what was actually happening on 9/11. Initial reports assumed it had been a bomb.

Much of the episode also involves the cast getting caught in traffic in and around the city, which may have resembled or evoked thoughts of the notorious difficulties in evacuating/clearing out roads during the immediate aftermath of 9/11 when everyone was, to put it lightly, fucking panicking.

I remember this all very clearly, but I'm explaining this stuff for those of you who may not have clear memories of the day or for those of you who may be from outside the USA and never saw the initial American news broadcasts which were covering all of this live.

Without this context, the edits made to this episode and why this episode was scrutinised so heavily following 9/11 may not make sense! But I hope it makes a little more sense now.

Any of these "pre-9/11 edit" episodes of pretty much any animated series are hard to find, as almost none of the original episodes are available except on personally owned taped versions, many of which are sadly poor quality owing to VHS recorder tech not being super amazing in general.

Thankfully, AnonyTF over on YouTube had a VHS recording of this episode featuring the originally broadcast English dubbed version, so everyone can enjoy it in it's originally intended state!

The Transformers (2007) - Lost IMAX Edition

The IMAX release of the film had some known alterations, edits, and alternate/new scenes added to it.

However, since Michael Bay has said he will never release these IMAX exclusive scenes or release the IMAX cut on any home media, it is safe to say that they do exist in some form, but will not be made publicly available.

Yet another reason to dislike Michael Bay, but I digress.

Conclusion: Lost Media Can Be Found!

Just because these bits and pieces are missing at the moment, doesn't mean we'll never see them, if they do still exist (or in some cases, if they ever did in the first place).

I get the feeling that with the Japanese language missing media, this might partially be a language barrier issue; It'll be harder for any English speaking only fans to find Japanese language only media, same as with trying to find any foreign language media when you don't necessarily speak that language and therefore might also be missing certain regional resources or other context that would help find it otherwise.

(Not to say there aren't Japanese fans also looking for these episodes-- There almost certainly are! But English speaking only nerds might find themselves struggling to aid in the search.)

Plus, other mecha shows were (and generally have been) more popular than Transformers in terms of Japanese broadcast TV ratings. To be fair, Japan has a very broad selection of mecha shows, all of which are pretty good! And it's not like Transformers isn't popular in Japan, it just isn't as popular as quite a few other mecha genre staples which tend to top the charts in that region.

At the time of airing, G1 Transformers had some hot competition in Japan-- It's very possible that if someone only had a couple blank tapes on hand, they may have simply chosen to record something else that they were a little more interested in. (Remember that it wasn't as easy or as cheap to record stuff back then-- Choices had to be made!)

(TakaraTomy, Hasbro's Japanese partner, seems to be very aware of the persistently strong regional competition; Remember the Transformers x Evangelion crossover they made? It's fucking great. And they knew it would have broader appeal as a crossover to Takara's local Japanese audience/figure collectors than just releasing a plain ol' repaint of Optimus Prime. There aren't many mecha shows/franchises in the west, but there sure as hell are in the Japanese media market, so competition remains pretty tough in that region.)

There may not have been as much interest/incentive for Japanese audiences to record these G1/Victory clip shows at the time of original broadcast for various reasons, or if someone did record it, they may not even realise they're sitting on a valuable piece of lost media!

It's also entirely possible that it's all floating around somewhere, and nobody's realised it yet. The original broadcasting networks might have copies in storage that nobody's had to mess with in years. And so on.

There's all kinds of reasons for media, even popular media or niche appeal media with a strong fanbase, to go missing.

But you never know; Stuff can pop up in personal collections, local media archives, library video storage, defunct websites, in broadcast network/studio storage, and all sorts of places!

So I do hope that one day, we do get to see some of the missing Japanese G1/Victory episodes. :)

And it would be cool to get a hold of any of the original movie scenes as well, if any of them were ever fully animated (or saved anywhere, if they were)!

As for the IMAX edition situation, well, that's just Bay being an asshole. At least we know that version of the film does still exist though, even if it's not available publicly! So hey, maybe one day he'll give up and let it be released in some form. Who knows. lol

---

Anyway, this got way longer than I thought it would be-- Mostly because I had to contextualise 9/11 media edits to explain the whole RID episode situation, but hopefully all of that context is helpful and makes the re-dubbing of that episode make a little more sense.

If you read through all of this, thank you as always!!! :) <3

If there are any Japanese TF fans out there reading this, I'd love to hear from you, if you might have any thoughts on the Japanese missing media! :)

I have very little experience with any Japanese Transformers material out there (primarily due to language barrier and lack of access to Japanese releases, in my case), so it would be lovely to speak with fans who have a much better idea of Transformers Japanese media in general.

#lost media #RID 2001 #RID #transformers #long post #transformers g1 #g1 #maccadam #maccadams #robots in disguise #transformers victory #transformers lost media #transformers the movie #transformers 1986 #bayverse

[shakespearenews]

One of the most goosebump-inducing moments in the entire show came when Stormzy, flanked by his choir, sang “Crown” from his second studio album Heavy Is the Head.

If that wasn’t enough, while he rapped, two giant crates appeared on stage, as well as Sophie Okonedo, who was dressed in its contents: hand-painted Vivienne Westwood couture, inspired by the late designer’s autumn/winter 1997 collection, which referenced Tudor portraits and, specifically, Elizabeth I.

Then, Okonedo performed the soliloquy from Henry IV Part II which ends with the line, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” and was crowned herself. The sequence formed a powerful collision of past and present, with the actor and musician paying tribute to another fellow Londoner, Shakespeare, despite being separated by four centuries.

#Vivienne Westwood #shakespeare #william shakespeare #heavy is the head #crown #stormzy #Sophie Okonedo #henry iv #fashion #henry iv part ii #Vogue World: London #vogue

[rrr-is-gay]

I literally think that RRR is the most romantic movie I’ve ever seen. Ram and Bheem go through SO MUCH to understand each other and make it to their happy ending, it is so well-earned. And the fucking cosmic scale of fate that it took for their first meeting to subvert the collision course they’d been on from the outset??! Like, all the pieces are in place for these two men to just fuckin kill each other, but then eight million moving parts all had to magically, divinely align in perfect timing for them to become heroes together, which is how they fall in love.

Ram and Bheem inspire one another, each making the other stronger. The film takes so much time to really drill into your head how much and how deeply they fucking love each other. Then the betrayal??!!!! It literally feels like getting stabbed in the chest just to watch it. It is beyond heartbreaking. And then Ram’s redemption, where he doesn’t even try to tell Bheem that he’s saving him, because he believes that what he’s done is unforgivable and he doesn’t deserve the love of his life, aggghhhhh!!!!!

And then??!! Then even MORE divine timing & orchestration takes place when Bheem meets Sita and learns the truth??!! It just makes me INSANE to watch Bheem’s reaction, the tears in his eyes, the way his body physically cannot keep still for how desperate he is to immediately run out and save Ram.

And the final rescue sequence is so over-the-top, so grand, so reverent, and so sincere, it literally feels like mythology. They both save each other, demonstrating how much they both need each other. Bheem is literally holding Ram in his arms, comforting him once they clear the prison walls. He dresses him, heals his wounds, fights by his side, and risks his life to get the weapons so Ram can ultimately achieve his dream. RAM’S FACE gazing lovingly at Bheem dragging the weapons away from the rubble???? It is so fucking ROMANTIC!!!

Just!!! Their love transcends EVERYTHING. They heal each other, give each other hope, and each one makes the other feel truly at home. Meeting under false identities and falling in love, then learning each other’s deepest truths and falling even more madly in love?! That’s romance, baby!!!

#rrr #rambheem #Ram/Bheem #hc

[jasmancer]

thinking about how Laura and Daken's relationship kind of formed around their father's death. Their first meeting is so hostile because of the looming shadow of Logan over their interaction. Daken sees Laura as a clone of his awful father first and a sister second, if at all. Laura mirrors his hostility by instinct, and their whole introduction to one another is completely colored by brutality and resentment.

Like as someone who read ANW first and then went back, it was such whiplash. The Daken I knew was genuinely a good and caring older brother, if not a little bit of a wild card. Not like, a remorseless violent selfish villain. But I think their relationship taking a positive turn after Logan's death honestly works really well. The Collision -> Wolverines -> ANW sequence works well to me. I don't consider ANW to be a real example of the ensmoothening of Daken's rough edges like the others we've seen lately. In the context that it was written, Daken was still a shithead, but his sisters inspired better behavior in him, which I think is sweet.

That's kinda how I still feel about him. I like the idea of a self serving, lecherous villain who dotes on his darling little sisters. That's like my platonic ideal of him lol

#it speaks #laura kinney #daken

[deusvervemakesgames]

Project RBH Devlog 0039

Got a lot done last week!

As you might recall, there were three big things I wanted to get done: improving the enemy spawning system, improving the enemy AI, at least in regard to navigation, and making it so that enemies drop health on death.

I started with how the enemies are spawned in. Previously, the enemies were placed in the rooms using objects that would pull from lists of possible enemies, and choose one to spawn. This system was good for encounter design as I could place support units like turrets out of the way and let the shock troops charge. However, there were too many enemies in each room, and they would always be in the room the player spawned in.

To fix this, I created a new spawner object. This one checks for player proximity and then spawns enemies randomly within a certain range of itself, making sure to avoid spawning things inside of walls.

The way that this works is that it chooses a random coordinate within range, runs a collision check in a small circle around that coordinate, and if there’s nothing there, it spawns the enemy and repeats the process until all of the enemies have spawned in. Doing it in sequence like this gives the player a chance to process each enemy as it spawns in, and that little animation make it not only look better but draws the player’s eye to the new threat. In the future, I’d like enemies to not act for a second or so after spawning in as well, to really help sell their warping in.

Though, admittedly, there were a few issues before I worked out the best way to check a coordinate as a valid spawning point.

This dramatically shifted the way the game plays, and for the better. By spawning in enemies anywhere, they come from multiple directions which encourages the player to keep moving to avoid the incoming attacks instead of standing still firing at a horde.

The next major change to make was to have the enemies figure out how to move around obstacles. This turned out to be much easier than I expected it to be. GameMaker has built-in pathfinding tools, which is pretty standard for most game engines nowadays. So to make the enemies figure out the concept of walls, the first thing I did was convert the level to a grid at the end of level generation, with the empty space being valid terrain while walls and pits are not. Like so.

Then I told the enemies to use that grid to navigate their way towards the player until they were close enough, at which point they stop moving so they can stand there and shoot at you. This had a small problem, however, in that standing just around the corner meant that they would stop pursuing you because they were close enough even though they couldn’t shoot you. I fixed this using a simple line check. Much like that circle check I used to determine if a spawn point was valid, this one line of code checks for objects in a specific place—namely, in a straight line between the enemy and the player. If there is still an obstruction, the enemy continues following their pathfinding to walk around it.

The other big thing I did last week is far more minor than the other two, but still important. Enemies can now drop hearts when they die, and picking these up will restore some of the player’s health! This, combined with the reduced number of enemies per floor, gives the player a lot more longevity than they had before, while also introducing new decisions to make on the fly. Like, “is it worth it to try and leap into that crowd of enemies for that heart, or is there a better way to get it?”

I also gave it a small sheen animation to draw the eye, and a flicker effect to show when it’s close to expiring.

Progress on this project has been incremental; comes with the territory of being a solo dev working in my spare time. But with this, all I need to do is fill out the random upgrades, figure out a boss fight, and get some non-placeholder art assets (or at least better placeholders) and I’ll have a full demo on my hands.

Until next Devlog!

-DeusVerve

DevLogs like these are brought to you by Patron(s) like Haelerin!

Support me on Patreon to get Early Access to builds!

#devlog #indie dev #game development #indie game #game dev #video games #rbh

[heli0s-writes]

DRABBLE TIME :D

🫂 💕(forehead plss) 🤝🏽 ✊🏽 🥰 💪🏽

(Okay fineee u got me yes I just wanna read some DAMN GOOD HEARTWARMING FLUFF so I can cry over my singleness)

(Also I hope it's okay for me to request that this be a bucky x y/n (f) fic 👉🏽👈🏽 but if not pls feel free to write it about characters of ur choice!! I'll read whatever you write regardless of who it's about 🥰)

a/n: Thanks for the ask :) Here's 800 word of being in stupid love with Bucky Barnes. Angst and fluff and lots of snuggles. Title from "Moon River" <3

28 Ways Masterlist

"dream maker, heart breaker"

When God made Bucky, he must have wanted it to hurt.

Looking at him for too long is like moon-gazing through a high-powered telescope. You don’t expect it to be painful when the light hits your eye because you forget how much light there actually is.

Most nights, it’s a silver dollar, hanging isolated and beautiful that from where you stand, its visible scarring— aftermaths of a distant past, blurred by the stretch of space— doesn’t seem real.

As in, you forget there’s so much to see.

You forget there’s an entire other side tucked behind its back that observers only manage to glimpse if they’re lucky and are briefly offered just an auspicious quiver.

You think there’s so much moon in him.

Ancient history in the rise and fall of his topography: the delicate shifts of his skin and bones; the hot red blood that ran and how much of it erupted during the epochs of his life. How it must have flowed like seawater as he shivered alone in a silent, frozen landscape.

His many faces: his alert, cunning eyes, steely and knife-sharp; his cheeks, rounded and high with color, when he laughs and it surprises everyone. When humor catches him off-guard and there’s a quick bark of joy slipping out before the back of his hand hides it again.

What wondering minds conceive when they make stories of him: a wild animal, a traveler in the shade of a tree, a disgraced exile, a divinity.

He carries it all with supernatural grace. The weight of his entire being locked into a sequence he never signed up for. Only existing as a casualty of collision, a long line of coincidences that travelled and travelled until they made impact, that shattered and burst and finally returned to life metallic.

And yet, so bright.

It’s approaching dawn now and he’s a splinter of a thing in your bed.

Curled up into the sheets, hair a wild mane of auburn where early sunlight favors it. His side profile pressed into your pillow, rolled carelessly over until he was pushing you toward the border.

You couldn’t see him then but heard him murmuring and felt him shaking as he chased blindly. Just the faintest whimpers for attention as his fingers reached out, his powerful body folded as if in utero.

And it was a silly thing that broke your heart, despite how full your heart is these days with love for him.

He’s still tangled up in a dream, movement beneath his eyelids giving him away. His fingers twitching, one leg slotted beneath your own beginning to flex and bend.

You snuggle closer to him, turn until you can clutch him to your chest, rubbing his silver shoulder—up and down the red star that seems to constantly burn him alive.

His brow furrows, tormented with agony. His hand clenches into a boulder behind your back. His speech is slurred and Russian, rattling numbers and compliance and you’ve learned enough to dissect the vocabulary, can parse out his desperate pleas of sir-ready-missioncomplete-missionreport-itdoesnothurt-Iwillobey-Iamnothing-Iamaweapon-Iamyourdog—

He makes a curtailed noise. A quick, high whine like a pained animal, so you let him seek out your body heat, let him burrow into your neck and cling to your waist as his teeth chatter.

And there’s not much more can do when he falls apart like that. Nothing you can say or assure or shout out as much as you want to in order to wake him. He won’t—he never wakes. He only continues to cross the memory, dragged routinely across the deep sky until morning. Sometimes it goes on for hours. Sometimes it goes on all night.

But now the sun is ascending, chasing away the dark, tucking his fears back into the other side of the world and Bucky calms with it, crying tamped down to only a few sniffles.

You brush away the wet hair that has stuck to his cheeks and forehead, wipe his brow and press your lips to him, tasting tears and sweat.

You do it again, another kiss to his forehead, and again, leaving your own mark, impacts of softness, and love, and everything he needed and couldn’t receive for so long.

“Sorry,” he stirs, “woke you up—” but you shush him with a kiss to his nose, then one to his chin.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, shy and embarrassed, but you’ll have none of it, especially when he doesn’t pull away, only leans in to receive more because he wants it as much as he’s needed it and you’ll give him everything, every night.

Your exiled divinity. Your bright, bright boy. Your moon and his many faces.

You kiss all of them again—and again, and again, and again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction