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ragingbookdragon · 3 months

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It comes as somewhat a surprise when the others realize that something has obviously happened between their resident Lieutenant and Private, as she’s quick to fall silent whenever he appears, and even more so make herself scare when she can when he’s around. It’s only the third time that Soap sees it that he says something, because if he doesn’t no one else will, and where’s the fun in that?

He watches her duck her head and leave the break room, Gaz, Soap, Price, and Ghost sitting alone at the breakfast table conversing over soggy cereal and cooling tea; Soap pushes a piece of bacon on his plate and asks, “Trouble in paradise, Lt?” the corner of his mouth arches with a slight grin when he hears the warning grunt come from Ghost.

“No.”

“Seems like it,” he retorts, taking a sip of his coffee. “What’d ya do? Tell her ta fuck off?”

“Drop it, MacTavish,” Ghost warns darkly. “Nothing’s wrong.”

This time, Gaz jumps in. “C’mon, Lt., it’s obvious that something’s wrong. I mean, she won’t even look at you, let alone say anything unless you speak first.”

“An’ she’s callin’ ‘im ‘sir.’” Soap adds, pointing at him. “Christ, Lt., ya musta done a number on ‘er. Poor Puffin. So sweet and kind. Broke ‘er heart ya did.”

Price can tell that Ghost is close to snapping at the both of them but gets to it before he does. “Soap, Gaz, go catalogue our inventory for the mission next week.”

“Aw, but we already d—” Soap falls silent when Price shoots him a look and quietly grumbles to himself as he grabs his plate and cup, Gaz following in suit.

It’s only until the two soldiers are alone that Price asks, “What did happen, Simon?”

Ghost lets out a long sigh and rolls his head back, staring at the ceiling. “Pretty much told ‘er to fuck off.”

Price watches quietly as Ghost begins rattling to himself—he’s never really had to ask the man to explain himself. All he’s gotta do is prompt him to do so and Ghost does the rest.

“I just got mad. She’s always ‘round and practically up my arse, and I got caught up and instead of ‘andlin’ it properly, I shoved my fucking foot in my mouth and scalped her.” He rubs a hand over his face. “I meant to be gentler but once I started, I couldn’t stop. It just kept comin’ out. And now she fuckin’ hates me.”

He pulls his hand down and looks up at Price with a scowl—the man is smiling at him, but it’s that stupid smile that means more than Ghost wants to admit it does.

“Quit that.”

“You care about her,” Price murmurs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, though his admonish is still harsh. “And instead of telling her how you felt like a grown adult, you took the ten-year-old way out and decided to be a cunt to her.”

“I didn’t mean to be such a cunt.”

“But the fact of the matter is that you did, and you’ve screwed up team fluidity and cohesion.” He looks at him. “You know a team divided—”

“Can’t stand,” Ghost finishes with an even worse scowl. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” He looks away. “I just don’t know how to even start tryin’ to fix it.”

“Well, apologizing might be a good start,” Price rumbles with a grin. “She’s a good kid, Simon. Her heart’s in the right place, even if it’s a bit much at times. Shows she cares. More than most do in our line of work. She’s a rare one.”

“I know,” he admits in a much, much softer tone. “I just don’t want her to lose that doin’ this.” His eyes meet Price’s, and they hold such a misery. “Look at us, Price,” he mutters, gesturing between them. “Middle age, unmarried, no kids, too fucked up for anything like that. She doesn’t…” he clenches his jaw. “She deserves a better path, a safer path, than this life. She deserves to go out and have a life where she comes home to a family.”

“That’s not your choice to make, son,” he replies gently, but there’s a firmness to it. “If this is what she wants to do, then she will. We can’t make her get out of service.”

Ghost growls low in his throat. “She has so much more potential than being cannon fodder. She could do somethin’ with her life. Somethin’ good. Somethin’ that won’t have her dying face down in the sand with a bullet wound in the back.”

Price simply watches him.

“But she’s so fuckin’ stupid. She wants to be here. She wants to spend whatever time she has dodgin’ bullets and wakin’ up every night in sweat ‘cause she can’t escape the dreams. No one wants to do this. We don’t want to do this. We do this because we have to. But her? She’s happy here.” He lowers his voice, it’s as if he’s in disbelief. “She’s happy here.” He looks at Price. “Why? Why is she so happy here?”

It's another long moment before Price speaks.

“You hear, son, but you don’t listen.” He moves the cup on the saucer. “She bounced around homes growing up, scraped by on the skin of her teeth. She has no one. But here, she has something. She has people who care for her, if nothing else, they won’t let her die alone.”

“Oh what? So, it’s found family bullshit?” Ghost spits. “If she dies, at least the team would mourn her?”

“Isn’t that what you’ve done too?” he replies, and Ghost falls silent. “People like Gaz, Soap, and myself are different than you and she are, Simon. We have homes. We’ve had families that have loved us, that do love us. But you two? Simon, you’ve made a home where you’ve had to. Made a family out of people you’ve bled for, would gladly bleed for. You’ve made something that’s yours. You made a family for yourself. And so did she. She’s made us her family. The one she never had the privilege to call her own.”

Price lets out a quiet hum, and pats his thighs, standing up and pushing his chair in.

“Think on what I’ve said, son. And if nothing else, apologize and leave it at that. Put the ball in her court and let her make the next move.”

As he walks off, he hears, “And if she doesn’t want it?”

He tosses a knowing look over his shoulder. “I’m sure she’ll take it.” His eyes twinkle as he adds, “Takes an awful strong woman to care about a man like you.”

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kcrossvine-art · 1 month

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Hi fellow adventurers!! A few weeks ago i caught wind of "Delicious in Dungeon". I'm not really an anime person, but I am a TTRPG, CRPG, and cooking person- . And holy shit. It is so good i convinced my partner to binge read the whole thing. I'm caught up on dungeon meshi, the anime, and just yesterday i also finished dungeon meshi, the manga.

Its rare to come across a serialized story that is so thematically cohesive and knows its characters so well. All of the bonus content like the artbooks and monster tidbits are just the icing on top.

So, inspired by Ryōko Kui's writing and illustration I'm going to attempt to create a recipe for every single Delicious in Dungeon recipe!-

Today that means Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot is on the menu!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot?” YOU MIGHT ASKThis is one of the pricier dishes until we get to the kelpies and dragons of the menu-

Rock lobster tail

Porcini mushrooms

Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus

Small potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water

OPTIONAL: your choice of dipping sauces

There was a crossover/promotional event in Shibuya which featured various realworld dishes from the series. They had one for Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom, but they used prawns. while those cook better in a hotpot, they also didn't look enough like the scorpion for me, they also used udon noodles for the slime and a seaweed/kale(?) mixture for the algae. If you're looking for substitutes due to price or availability i would start with those ingredients.

AND, “what does a Huge Scorpion and Walking Mushroom hotpot taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKI hope Senshi would forgive me for technically cooking the lobster outside the pot, once he tastes it.

Okay im always partial to veggies but wowowowowowowoowowowow the snow fungus and the mushrooms tasted soooooooooooo good in the lobster stock

A nice delicate layering of different flavors

Try to get a bite with the lobster meat and shiitake together, dip in butter then chili- trust me

Its up to you what texture you prefer if you want to put the noodles in at the end or put them in halfway through the meal. Either way dont go for eating those first as theyre very filling

I think this would pair well with a citrus drink, something light and clarifying

This would also pair well with being extremely high and hungry (if you feel safe cooking while inebriated lol) very calorically dense

For the trial run I did one lobster tail in the pot with everything else, and one lobster tail off to the side to be picked apart. The former is more in spirit with a hotpot, but it got rubbery as the meal went on and lost its nice taste. The latter may be a bit more work but all you have to do still is boil it and set it aside. I found it held up much better. It was also easier to get inside the shell.

. If you have hardshell maine lobster available, i think it would be superior to rock lobster (keep in mind crustaceans will get rubbery if cooked too long in the pot) . Green onions and/or lotus root would make excellent additions

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From getting the ingredients out to sitting down and eating, id say it took maybe 30 minutes max? It'd vary on how fast you can prep vegetables and get the various implements heated.

Hotpots are not something i do very often as i'm usually just feeding myself. I think thats why a hotpot makes perfect sense to start the series off. If you want to set the tone of "take care of yourself, eat food with others, and use what you have" (generally speaking) there is nothing more simplistic, flexible, and defeats-the-purpose-if-you-eat-it-alone than a hotpot. Gather around and let your friends bring ingredients to the pot if you want to fill your heart up extra full <3

I'm doing something different here because unlike previous recipes where i used a bunch of different sources and made my own recipe out of hodge-podging it, or just used another persons recipe entirely if they did it really well, i made this more whole-cloth based off of what i had available, what I could discover through research, and my existing knowledge. Instead of the recipe being 50/50 original, this one is more 20/80. So. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys :D

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do different, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

2 Rock lobster tails

3 Porcini mushrooms

2 Shiitake mushrooms

Snow fungus (a good handful, should rehydrate in the hotpot)

2 Small waxy potatos

Fensi (glass noodles)

Water/lobster stock

Method:

Lightly rinse all of your vegetables beforehand and let them dry.

Vertically slice the porcini mushrooms. Cut off and dice the stems of the shiitake mushrooms. You can slice the tops if youd like.

Peel and cube the potatoes, roughly an inch each.

For the lobster tails; Boil a pot of salted water. Keep the shell on. Weigh the largest tail and add 1 minute of cooking time for every ounce of weight.

When done, strain the lobster from the water. Pour the water into your hotpot as the base. Serve the lobster on the side so people can pick the meat out to dip into the hotpot.

Bring the hotpot to a simmer. Add the potato cubes, snow fungus, mushrooms, and noodles.

OPTIONAL: this wasnt in the show, but its fun having sauces on the side :) i had oyster sauce, dry seasoned chili dip, melted butter, and soy sauce available

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #cooking #digital art

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planete777 · 8 months

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FREAK・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader )

IN WHICH. y/n is full of surprises and shows lando just how dirty she can be. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI, reader x brother'sbsf!lando, riding, mentions of sex toys, high hotness part 3464476, lando is lowkey in love with the reader, getting caught... but not really getting caught.

NOTE. my dearest anon requested and i HAD to write this. my last high!lando installment probably for a while because the summer is coming to an end 😭 i do have one more other fic coming tho, so stay tuned. anyways enjoy luvss <3 also credit to @lesbiacebian for the dividers.

"are you really slagging me off for your girlfriend?"

lando's voice is incredulous, syllables barely pristine as the weed in his head breaks down any cohesion left. the hand pinching the spliff falls to the bed as he sits up, staring at his unmoving best friend.

"she just texted me, i'm not gonna ditch her for you, lando, no offence."

"all taken," he grumbles, then moves to take a harsh inhale of his joint. he may be completely high out of his fucking wits, but he's certainly not pliable like that. he came to get so faded with his friend (and, second to name, supplier) that his brain would feel like it's being suspended over a grill and burned with smoke.

"well," lando sees him shrug half heartedly, "she's putting something on the line for her late night endeavours."

lando scoffs, taking another godforsaken drag. pussy, he thinks, he's getting fucking pussy.

"you're a nasty piece of shit, you know that?"

the boy ahead of him waves him off, "better start going mate, she'll be here any minute."

lando stares blankly at him for so long his eyes begin to unfocus, before he's shaking his head, sliding off the sheets. what a dickhead.

"fine whatever." he opens the door, taking an inhale and exhale of the joint wedged in his lips, and he descends the carpeted stairs with little sentience. his limbs feel dismembered and he can barely perceive the distance from on step to another, but he reaches the ground floor anyways, making his way to the living room.

he guessed he'd find her here, practically one with the couch and eyes welded to the tv screen glimmering with another uninteresting reality show.

the light's off, and considering he could barely walk in a straight line due to the blunt puffing out smoke from his mouth, he doesn't notice y/n turning towards him, pressing pause on the tv.

"lando, hey."

her voice is light, as if she's afraid of disturbing the night, and she swings her legs off the couch. lando subtly scrutinizes what she wears, a tight tank top, and equally as tight shorts, and he begins to feel blood rush to his dick.

"hey," he smirks with the blunt still in his mouth, and shuffles towards the now empty space beside the girl who had him thinking with his dick. he forces the thoughts away, he's not acquainted with the whole corruption kink thing, and y/n screams bloody virgin.

"what brings you here, high out of your mind?" she's staring intensely, as if a blink would make him vanish, grinning light-heartedly.

lando chuckles, taking a long drag, "your brother wanted to get laid, and i'm sure not a voyeurist."

even the thought of it makes y/n grimace, "point made," she curls her legs back unto the couch as lando's eyes follow her.

it's not long before the sound of the doorbell ringing shrills once, dragged until the duration of it could barely hit it being a nuisance. y/n's brother tumbles down the stairs, opening the door with much vigour before dragging her up the stairs with hurrief footsteps. the whole ordeal plays out with silence between y/n and lando, hearing the ruckus with barely concealed amusement, and is cut dead once the bedroom door slams.

"i do not want to hear all that," y/n groans, "his room is right above this one."

"happens when you're pussy whipped like him," lando huffs out a cloud of smoke, "forget who the fuck is around."

"you know you can... go back home," y/n's sceptical, and rightfully so because lando has no idea why he's staying. nevertheless, he makes up an incomplete incentive that sounded valid only in his head.

"i know, but i'm high as fuck and walking in this heat home... yeah no."

his neck flexes as he sucks in as much weed as he can, and y/n watched avidly. something about seeing lando at the mercy of his inhibitions, eyes so red that wherever he looks, he paints it crimson, and lips selling his soul away to the strings of smoke. he's too out if it to notice y/n's assessment, with his head sunken into the couch behind him, and it makes the girl laugh.

"you're gone, aren't you?"

lando does nothing but smirk affirmatively, before limply taking another drag.

"and i could definitely do with a bed to sleep on," he pushes a sound out of his throat, "your brother... fucker, he is."

"for sure," y/n agrees then shuffles to get up, patting lando's thigh. he flitters his eyes open in surprise, diluted, however, because of his lack of level headedness, "what?"

"just this once, i'll give you my bed."

"really?" the word is chipped between his teeth from the burn scarred into the back of his throat.

"yeah," she smiles. lando pretends he doesn't feel his heart grin with her.

"i'm feeling nice today."

he stands up, stretches and feels his joints scream out inexplicable noises. the bed seems like paradise now.

"oh mint, thank you."

receiving a hum in return, he follows the girl up the stairs, praying that his legs don't give way. his mind dozes off as they get to the landing, and it's only when he trails behind her inside, on autopilot, and she shuts the door, does his conscience focus like accomodating vision.

"i need to go the bathroom, one sec."

his mind has one whiplash after another as he process her rapid disappearance, before tuning back into the room. it's tame, like any young adult room would be, with half-wave plant bunting snaking around her room. her headboard, however, glows white, abd he figures it's from the leds stuck under the rim.

he walks up to the bedside tableand picks up a small framed picture of her and her brother. young, they were, standing side by side with identical sunglasses on. he smiles, then situates it back.

the drawer beneath is open, just enough for him to slip his hand through and open it, but of everything he could presume to find, he does not expect to meet a clear purple dildo, thicker and longer than biologically possible. he feels like there's a broken wire in his brain, hanging and tickling just where it triggers his dick to harden.

he doesn't know why he's enthralled by it, staring at the phallic toy as if it would magically display the images of it being pushed and pressed into y/n, but then he finds himself wishing so. corruption was never his thing, but now it doesn't have to be. because y/n is already debauched from the hot inside, to the deceiving out.

he stands there, idle, and it pushes a huff of laughter from behind him.

"you can get in the bed, lando," she pronounces like he's a formative infant. but he's not moving.

"what is this, y/n?"

he can't see her face fall, confused, but he hears it in the way she speaks, "what?"

then he's storming to her, standing just before her with a burning look. y/n's not stupid, can tell the way he's turned on but whatever he's seen, if not by the way his eyes flick down to her lips, then by the bulge that pokes her peripheral vision, and it's that her eyes widen in shock.

"oh fuck."

"oh fuck indeed," he takes a final drag before quelling it on the desk behind her, "who knew you were shoving 8 inch dildos up your pussy?"

y/n knows where to push his buttons, get the heat rising like a flood of lava just before it turns into a battle of who will give in first?

her arms are wrapping themselves around his shoulders, pulling him in, "and who knew," a hand, calculative and slow, slides down to press the hard on in his jeans, "you would get turned on by it?"

then he's kissing her, hard, wet, messy, with tongues and soft lips eager for each other like they were quenching years of thirst. lando takes everything that y/n gives him, lapping at her tongue and biting at her lips with unrestricted composure.

she's pushing him back, hands scrambling on his top to get it off, and when she does, gives him a final nudge to the chest that has him flying to the bed.

he smirks up at her, watching as she dwindles to nakedness and lando thinks that he can't be seeing this. y/n, in front of him, stripping as if it's a private show, with her brother just a few doors down. it's fucking filthy, and makes him hot all over.

"you gonna suck me off?"

he'd found a way, though he feels semi paralyzed, to rid himself of his jeans, slowly jerking his dick as precum begins to trickle down his skin.

"want to, but i need your dick inside me," y/n says, all breathy and pent up, causing lando to groan as she crawls her way up his thighs.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." his heart is accelerating in his chest, the libido in him heightens as y/n chuckles at him and takes his dick out of his own hand and he feels completely brainless.

"you ready?"

all he can muster is a nod, and then hot fucking tightness. their moans are akin in volume, elastic and lewd, and as y/n slips further down, lando's dick feels completely rock hard and throbs as he swears every gallon of his blood pools at his cock.

"fucking hell, you're tight, y/n," his mouth feels wet and dry simultaneously and he squeezes his eyes shut as she begins to roll her hips and press down hard.

she bounces and grinds like she's meant for it, and lando can't process that sweet, innocent y/n is bouncing on his dick, squeezing him like she wants to keep him there.

his hands grip her ass, thrusting upwards to meet her hips and the cacophony of slapping skin snaps any vocal composure in him. lando moans like he's being eaten by pleasure itself and y/n grinds and grinds and grinds.

"fuck, lando," her head is thrown back like it's completely broken, and lando preens.

"you're so fucking good for me, y/n, keep going," he can't hold back, feels his hands grip her hips and her ass careening into his thighs with every bounce and, fuck, it's so dirty and so good.

y/n looks slutted out, debauched as she splits herself on his cock. it sends lando tipping over the edge, about to cum fast and deep, when a harsh knocking pounds into the door.

they both freeze, panting as sweat licks heat into their flesh.

"for fuck's sake, keep it down! some people are trying to sleep!"

it's shortly followed by angry footsteps and a slam of a door.

lando, still hard and pulsating in y/n's cunt, has a face of bewilderment, "shit— i forgot he was there."

y/n turns back, smirking, and slowly rolling her hips again, "and continue to do so. now fuck me, lando."

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.thinks: high!lando #lando norris fic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris x y/n #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one x reader #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 fic

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revasserium · 7 months

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Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

#one piece #one piece live action #opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #x reader #opla #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #opla fluff #roronoa zoro imagines #roronoa zoro scenarios #floofy floof floof

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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Are you looking for a wife?

Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader

Warnings: pure fluff, mention of injuries, probably very wrong medical information, prescribed drug use, some cursing.

Summary: whenever you get ketamine as pain relief, you lose all thought-to-speech filter.

On AO3

A/N: I just watched an episode of one of those shows about air ambulances from the UK where they gave a guy ketamine, and he was high as a kite and kept telling the doctor (who was like 20 years older) "you're my kind of bird 🥺♥️". You really can get inspiration from anywhere, huh.

•~•~•~•~•

It had been one of those missions that went to shit really quick but somehow the Ghost team got the upper hand in the end. The intel was found, the hostage was rescued, and most of the team got away with minimal injuries.

Unfortunately for you, you were the exception to the last one.

The bullet and the stab wound you had received left you at a risk of bleeding out. One of the Vaqueros - Fernando, you learned - had enough medical training to treat you on site, but you really needed the MedEvac stat. The stim shot you had given yourself during the heat of the battle had long since worn off, and you were administered a strong dose of ketamine to keep your blood pressure from spiking any further and help with the pain once you all made it to the safe house.

However, one funny secondary effect you always got when you were given that drug, was that you lost all filters with your musings. They were never inappropriate per se, just plain weird. In a few words, you were high off your tits.

"...Mars is the only planet in the universe to be entirely inhabited by robots…" you mumbled to no one in particular as you stared straight at the roof over your head, past the top of Fernando's head who was still stitching a scratch on your forehead - only God knows how you got that one. Fernando just blinked at you and shook his head, focusing on his task, while Soap, who wasn't that far from you, was having a really hard time trying not to laugh at your stoner talk.

The utter (non?)sense that came out of your mouth was indeed amusing to whoever was listening closely, mostly Soap and Ghost, who, like the rest of 141, were already used to your reaction to ketamine from previous experiences, and would sometimes even prompt more unhinged thoughts from you. Price tried not to pay too much attention to whatever you said - he knew that as long as you were somewhat coherent and cohesive with your words, they could rule out any brain damage. Whenever Gaz heard your comments, it actually made him think about what you said, always coming to the conclusion that you were actually onto something.

Fernando finally finished with your care and left to check some of the others, while you kept staring at the ceiling of the safehouse, completely lost in your thoughts again. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was because of the drug or the blood loss. You were trying really hard to stay awake, but now that your body wasn't burning with pain and the adrenaline had worn off, all the exhaustion from the previous days caught up with you.

You looked over at Ghost, who was now speaking to Alejandro, and couldn't help but sigh dreamily at the leader of the Vaqueros - your inhibitions had really flown out of the window when the ketamine hit. They both glanced at you and you blinked twice, each time your eyelids got heavier.

"LT, 'm sleepy," you groaned, not noticing that you were pouting at both your Lieutenant and the Colonel like a grumpy toddler that needed a nap.

Alejandro somehow maintained a passive stare at you - inwardly though, he was already cradling you in his arms and cooing sweet nothings at you until you fell asleep.

Ghost simply stared at your lying form, and walked closer to you, crouching down to take a better look at your bandages.

"...Well, since you aren't actively bleeding out, I suppose you can take a nap," Ghost huffed but quickly held a finger to your face before you could take him up on it, "but someone will wake you up every 30 minutes just to make sure you still live, copy?"

"Copy, LT, loud and cle-" you interrupted yourself and just stared straight at his skull mask. Ghost frowned, wondering if he should feel concerned.

"...Are you-"

"A cheeseburger," you interrupted him, your eyes wide like sauce plates, "is a dead cow covered with its lactation." As soon as you finished your sentence, your head lolled to the side and you were knocked out cold, a soft snore leaving your barely open lips.

"Bloody fucking hell, kid," Ghost sighed, shaking his head in defeat as Soap wheezed not far away from you.

Alejandro could only stare at you, his hand clutched to his chest. "...Ay, ternura…"

•~•~•~•~•

Thirty minutes had passed when Alejandro decided to check on you. Activity had lulled to a stop and most of the people were catching on some sleep, except for those keeping guard.

He could've gotten some shut-eye too, but he was the kind of leader who wouldn't completely rest until it was totally safe to do so for the whole team.

As he approached you, he noticed you were already awake and staring at the ceiling. He smiled softly, wondering if you were getting lost in your silly little thoughts again, and sat down next to you, watching your eyes focus on him this time.

"What's in your head, preciosa?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as to not wake the others.

"...Are you looking for a wife?" You whispered back at him after a few moments.

He blinked twice before leaning a little closer, wondering if he had heard you right, and if you could hear the way his heart rate picked up. "... Perdón?"

"Are you looking for a wife, Alejandro?" You repeated, dead serious.

He cleared his throat to get rid of the knot that formed there, before grinning at you. "...why? Are you offering?"

"... Yes," you nodded, offering him a little grin of your own, "where should I turn my résumé?"

He chuckled softly and reached down, fixing a stray lock from your forehead and tucked it behind your ear, "ask me again when you're sober and I might tell you, tesoro."

"Oh, the ketamine wore off," you sighed, slightly leaning into his fingers, "the pain woke me up, my whole body burns, actually."

His grin dropped and he frowned at you in concern, you looked awfully calm to be in that much pain. "...Want me to ask Fernando to give you some more?"

You shook your head, offering him a smile, but this time he noticed the sweat on your forehead and the frown in your brow as you tried not to move too much, "nah, I want to be sober to hear your answer. So? How do I apply?"

This time Alejandro could barely check the volume of his chuckle as he leaned even closer to you, his knuckles brushing your cheek, "If you're available, the position is all yours, preciosa."

This time you offered him a toothy smile, a flush staining your cheeks and all signs of pain gone from your features, "I make a mean huevo ranchero, you won't regret it."

"You could make me only tostadas for the rest of your life and I'd still look forward to them," he cooed, before signaling Fernando over to you, "now, let's get you comfortable for the trip, si?"

Just as he spoke, the rumble of the heli echoed in the distance, and little by little the teams woke up from their slumber. You got another shot of ketamine and were prepared for the journey, and it wasn't long until you started sharing your wisdom again with whoever could hear, much to Alejandro's delight, Soap's amusement, and Ghost's chagrin.

"If you think about it, the Miss Universe pageant should be called Miss Planet Earth, because no aliens participate in it… that we know of…"

A/N2: *quietly tags @ragingbookdragon here* 🤫♥️

#alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x fem!reader #alejandro vargas fanfic #alejandro vargas #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas fluff #cod mw2 #cod fluff #cod mw2 fluff #cod mw2 fanfic #cod mw2 alejandro

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artiststarme · 5 months

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It's No Secret... Anymore

Thank you to @mx-jinxous for the prompt! This took a really long time to write but it was so much fun playing with everyone's dynamics. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Steve felt like he was dreaming. It felt like he was looking through someone else’s eyes, dissociating far from his own body. He couldn’t feel the weight of Eddie’s slowly-fading body in his arms or the burning of the wounds in his sides. He wasn’t aware of where he was or if anyone was following him. He was purely relying on muscle memory and muscle memory alone.

He didn’t see the speeding car in front of him that swerved into a nearby bush and fence post. He hardly noticed the hands pulling him backward and out of the road. He came back to himself though once he heard his brother’s voice.

“Steve? Steve-O? Come on buddy, you’re worrying me here. Where have you been? I haven't seen your ass all week. Come on man, are you… are you fucking bleeding? Brother, answer me. We can’t be out here, there’s an earthquake going on. Come with me.”

Steve blinked just to come face to face with Phil. He was shining his flashlight on Eddie’s face against Steve’s shoulder but his eyes were focused directly on Steve’s.

“You with me, bro?” His mustache twitched unhappily and Steve rushed to answer.

“Um, no. Not really. I think he’s dying and I kinda might be too. And I think my friends are missing? Where am I?” Steve couldn’t get his thoughts together cohesively. His mind was fractured, overcome with too much trauma in too little time.

Phil just looked more concerned at his words with his face becoming vaguely panicked once he looked at Eddie. He looked quickly up at Steve, down at Eddie, then back at Steve. “Is this Eddie Munson? The murderer Eddie Munson? The Eddie Munson that has been on the run all week? Good golly Steve, I’m trying not to curse but what the fuck?”

Steve just looked at the pinched expression of pain that Eddie held and murmured, “he’s my friend.”

“Oh my god, Steve. Fine, we’ll deal with this later. Think you can walk to my squad car? I kinda damaged the front end but I’m sure it's semi-driveable. Powell’s tied up with the gates to hell opening up, I have plenty of time to take care of you.”

“Yeah, I can- I can walk,” and he could with the support of Phil. He felt his brother supporting both his and Eddie’s weight until they were deposited into the backseat of the patrol unit.

“And uh, is the girl hiding in the bushes with you? She’s kinda been watching us for awhile. You might have a stalker, little bro.” He shined his flashlight over to the bush and saw a sandy bob duck behind the foliage.

“Robin?” Steve muttered, still out of it and only on the verge of consciousness.

“Buckley, is that you? Come on, you’re coming with us back to Steve’s place. Let’s go,” Phil waved the light between the two. He had both hands on his hips and stood like a disappointed middle-aged dad. “I don’t have time to be doing things willy-nilly. Let’s go!”

Robin poked her head out of the bushes and scooted gracelessly over to the car until she was able to bump elbows with Steve. They both relaxed a smidgen within the same space, the two brain cells reuniting after a stressful ten minutes apart.

Phil hopped in the driver’s seat and bumped his head against the steering wheel. What had this idiot gotten himself into now?

~*~*~*~

By the time Phil arrived at his house at the edge of the suburbs, all three kids were out cold in his backseat. He stood at the open back door for a moment before sighing and lugging first Robin, then Eddie, then Steve into his living room, huffing with exertion all the while. He would definitely have to cut back on the station donuts and start exercising again. Right after he dealt with the dying fugitive on his brother’s couch, the blood seeping through Steve’s shirt, and his brother’s unconscious best friend that was snoring atrociously.

Jesus Christ.

Well, he had plenty of practice with medical care from his EMT training so he got to work. He got the first aid kit out of the squad car and started with the murderous Munson. Phil didn’t know what had happened to these kids but it couldn’t be any good. Munson’s entire torso was torn apart like he’d been gnawed on by a wild animal. It wasn’t bleeding too bad but he was missing chunks of skin, so much so that Phil couldn’t sew him up with just sutures. Hell, this kid was going to need skin grafts. A lot of them.

He put gauze on the worst of the wounds then cautiously stepped over to Steve. What he’d seen on Munson made him hesitant to look at the damage but surely it couldn’t be worse than that. Right? As soon as he lifted Steve’s shirt, he came immediately to two conclusions.

1. Steve had a lot more chest hair than he did and that was totally unfair.

2. The wounds on Steve’s abdomen were deep, infected, and horrific.

Just like with Munson, there was nothing to close. All he saw were missing chunks of skin and muscle that should have been in his sides. The marred remains were covered in grime and yellowish puss that made the entire room smell of infection.

Fuck, he couldn’t help them here. He had to get them, all three of them because he wasn’t touching an unconscious girl for anything, to a hospital. But that begged the question; which hospital? Munson… Eddie was wanted all through the state of Indiana for at least three murders and an assault. If he took him to any nearby hospital, he would be arrested and surely there was more to the story if Steve was protecting him so much. He couldn’t let one of Steve’s only friends get arrested without hearing the story from the both of them.

He had to take these three up to a hospital in Illinois. Chicago was roughly four hours away, he knew from his and Steve’s annual visits to their great aunt in Evanston. It was a risk, both for aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive as well as hoping he survived that long of a drive, but his gut told him to trust his brother on this one. So that’s what he did. He loaded the three teens back into his patrol car and mumbled swears under his breath when he passed the “Leaving Hawkins” sign. He hoped to all that was mighty that he was making a good call.

~*~*~*~

Steve woke up to familiar voices; one hushed and one screeching.

“You kidnapped them?! You’re a cop, I thought you would help them but instead you drove them all the way to goddamn Chicago like some middle-aged pervert loser?” Steve came around to a loud argument between what sounded like Dustin and Phil. It was weird though because he’d never introduced the two.

“Hey, listen here shithead, words hurt. I am not middle-aged, I’m 28. And why would I kidnap my own brother? I can legally take him anywhere, it's practically my birthright. I don’t have to go through all the work of kidnapping him.” Phil shook his head at Dustin.

“Stop trying to trick me, I know Eddie is an only child!”

“Munson?! I’m Steve’s big brother, you little gremlin. Can’t you see the resemblance?” He gestured between where Steve was groggily looking up at him and then back at himself.

“No, but I can’t see anything past your outrageous mustache.” Steve saw Phil’s jaw drop and knew that Dustin had crossed a line.

“You short fucker, that is too far! I take a lot of pride in this ‘outrageous mustache’,” Phil put air quotes around the offending remake before pointing an aggressive finger in Dustin’s direction. “I will absolutely take you off the visitation list, toothless. Do not test me.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’ll report you to the authorities!” Dustin countered.

“I am the authorities!” Phil dropped all decorum and screamed at practically the top of his lungs.

Sensing enough was enough, Steve tried to push himself up to a sitting position before a burning in his sides caused him to fall back down. Both men (or one man and Dustin) stopped their squabbling and rushed to his sides.

“Steve, you’re hurt so don’t try to get up. Shit kid, let me get a nurse or something. You weren’t doing too hot.” With that Phil sprinted out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s station and Steve was left with Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin.

He looked blearily at all of them before asking the most important question, “where’s Eddie?”

They all parted to reveal Eddie lying in the bed next to him. His neck and chest were covered with bandages but his face looked peaceful. There were no cuffs on his wrists as Steve assumed there would be. He laid back again and let out a sigh. Everything was as it should be, he could finally relax.

“Um so Steve, don’t be mad but your brother can be really persuasive when he wants to be and you never introduced him as your brother so I just kind of assumed that we were getting captured by the police and that it was going to be so much worse than the Russians because I always thought Officer Callahan was kind of psycho. But then I woke up here and he bought me Cheetos so everything is fine. Except it's kind of not because you and Eddie have been out for a couple of days and I told Big Not-Harrington about the Upside Down and now he’s really worried. Why did you have to stay asleep so long, dingus? I missed you!”

Steve honestly zoned out when he heard “Cheetos” and only tuned back in when Robin, the usual physical affection-hater, threw herself on top of him in a hug. He withheld the grunt of pain and held her back just as hard.

“What the hell just happened, bro? Like that was a lot of words, little bird lady. Woah.”

Steve didn’t know if he was hallucinating the long-haired surfer in a Hawaiian outfit or if Vecna had somehow managed to melt his mind after all but he had never been more confused in his life to see the new visitor make themselves known.

“Who the fuck is that?” He muttered in absolute bafflement.

Dustin sighed as he too wrestled a hug from Steve, “that’s Argyle. Come on, Steve. Keep up.”

“Like the sock pattern? How many drugs am I on right now?!”

~*~*~*~

“... and that’s kind of why I didn’t tell you about the Upside Down,” Steve finished from his seat beside Eddie, their hands tangled together as they both sat across from Phil.

He looked at both of them with a completely deadpan stare. “Again, but the truth this time.”

Eddie huffed in annoyance. “We are telling you the truth, man! An evil wizard guy named Vecna-”

“Slash Henry, slash One,” Steve and Robin interjected in unison.

“-possessed four teenagers to end the world or something and broke their bodies apart with his mind. Then the angry mob thought it was me but I would never kill anyone, especially not Chrissy. She was always really nice to me and remembered my band from the talent show in middle school. And then we got stuck in Hell where evil demon bats ate our flesh and tentacles ripped through the earth. Then we saved Nancy from the evil mind melt powers by playing her favorite song. After that, we made a plan and she shot Vecna and killed him while Dustin and I were decoys where I was attacked.”

“Then I went back for Eddie and carried him out where you almost ran us over. The end,” Steve emphasized the finale with a deliberate nod of his still-aching head.

Phil looked at them with the most exasperation Steve had ever seen in his life. He let out a pitying chuckle, his poor brother didn’t sign up for this. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

Phil's eyes rolled so hard that Steve could tell he saw stars. He could almost see the scream being prepared in his throat and couldn't gather enough strength to escape it.

"STEVEN MICHAEL HARRINGTON, WHAT THE MOTHERLOVING FUCK?!"

"Look Philly, I'll say it one more time then I'm done, okay? It first started way back when Will Byers went missing in 1983..."

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#Phil gets Eddie's name cleared by walking into the station and telling Powell it wasn't him #Powell is so fucking stressed that he just drops it and blames Jason when Phil suggests it #As soon as they're all healed up Phil gives Eddie the shovel talk of all shovel talks feat. his gun #Eddie hands him a donut and all is forgotten #stranger things #steddie #fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #officer phil callahan #officer callahan is steve’s brother #it took me so long to write this and I still don't know if I like it

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salteytakesonmanga · 8 months

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Your explanation about retconing made me think Oda's way of writing is exactly what bring people to think he has every single thing planed down from the start, even if he didn't.

The story has been going on for 20 years, and Oda himself has admitedly had ideas along the way that he added. But the fact he's still able to connect every new idea instead of having to retcon things is what makes one piece feel so perfectly planned and tied.

Anon, you innocently sent me this ask to share your thoughts and unknowingly triggered one of my rants. I’m sorry/thank you.

Anon is referring to this post.

Oda is just a good writer! He is good at the craft of writing! Even if you don’t like the story (I’m assuming you do, but for people who don’t…) it’s just WELL WRITTEN. People really aren’t used to seeing good writing anymore, to seeing tropes deployed effectively and having plot lines actually connect. This isn’t just me being cranky and old, it’s just truth. People are talking about this in film, TV, books… One Piece has been around so long that it comes from a generation of storytelling that is vastly different from our modern media landscape.

I think people are burned out on the way modern storytelling never delivers (looking at you, JJ Abrams) or constantly jerks people around to elicit a reaction, all for the sake of nabbing that viral moment. When they see Oda deploy a trope or a storytelling device they’re immediately suspicious and fearful that it’ll turn into another unsatisfying gotcha. They rush to look for proof that it’s either all part of a detailed master plan, or it’s just a cheap trick to sell more issues.

In both cases, people are looking for a reason to be LESS INVESTED in the story. If he has a master plan, they don’t need to get worried or excited because it’s all heading to some inevitable conclusion that’s been clearly telegraphed and once you’ve cracked the code then you can already tell what the ending will be, so you don’t actually have to care. If he’s winging it, then the story is just a sequence of loosely connected meaningless scenes whose only purpose is to get you hype about a plot leading nowhere, so you don’t actually have to care.

And it breaks my fucking heart.

When it comes to One Piece, so many people are insistent that One Piece is EITHER 100% planned in advance down to every minute detail, or Oda is completely winging the whole thing. But the real answer is somewhere in between, in some muddy grey area that people find really unsatisfying. They want one clear answer that they can hold up as “The Right One,” but life is not made up of black and white answers.

Honestly it makes me really sad that people can read ALL THIS - pirates are evil except actually pirates are good and the Marines are evil except the Marines are trying to protect civilians by keeping countries stable so that's good except the rulers are evil tyrants so that's bad except when they’re not and then they’re good but only sometimes and… - and what they come away with from it is, “Okay but what’s the RIGHT answer.”

The thing that makes One Piece feel like it’s so cohesive despite Oda constantly changing his mind and making shit up is that he has a very strong and clear idea about what’s actually important to the story and what’s flexible. Because he has that as a guide, he can add the Shichibukai and change Vivi from a villain to a princess and make up who Ace’s parent is without diluting what he wants to say.

That’s what it MEANS to be a writer. Foreshadowing isn’t “boring,” it’s good writing. A plot twist you didn’t see isn’t “cheap,” it’s good writing. Fleshing out a backstory isn’t “reconning,” it’s good writing.

#anon ask #asked and answered #saltey takes on one piece #sorry to bombard y'all with these walls of text #saltey says #<- is the tag to block if you don't want to see them

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dailyadventureprompts · 1 month

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DM Tip: Creating a Campaign Skeleton

Learning to be a better dungeonmaster was a protracted process. A younger me was often so stressed out by the desire to be a better artist that I'd have legitimately mauled a person if it would've revealed to me the wisdom I sought (with my hands or even an actual maul given the chance).

One of my biggest hurdles was the idea of a universal framework for d&d adventures, a guideline that would tell me if the things I was creating were on the right track. It was sorely needed, I loved the process of being creative but without an understanding of how my creative energy was best used I ended up sinking days, weeks, or even months worth of energy into projects that went nowhere. Worse yet, when I DID get a chance to put my ideas into practice at the table they'd frequently spiral out of control and crash, resulting in even more stress.

Over time I learned from these mistakes, I got better, and then I got good. I moved from conscious incompetence to competence, and I ended up having a run of absolutely stellar campaigns that were everything my younger self could have dreamed of: stable, enjoyable, meaningful, and most importantly an absolute delight to my players. Routinely I'd have people, including folks that'd only played with me a few times, mention that getting together to roll dice and listen to me babel on in silly voices was a highlight of their week.

It was as one of these campaigns began to wind down (three years! a satisfying conclusion on the horizon!) and I started looking for a followup scenario that I decided to study all my really successful campaigns and figure out what connected them. The end result was something I'd been looking for for nearly a decade, a reliable format that I could build campaigns around.

I want to preface this section with the understanding that while this information is laid out in a vaguely chronological fashion there's no guarantee that these ideas will occur to you in any particular order. Inspiration is a funny thing, and each idea flows into the others to make a cohesive whole. Due to foreshadowing and setup reasons you're also going to need a pretty solid idea about all of these when starting a campaign, though exact details will likely change/ can be vague up until the moment they're needed.

The Reason: Who are we and what are we doing?

Gives your players a solid background to build their characters around and give them a reason to travel together, rather than having to ad lib one on the spot. Likewise sets expectations of what the campaign is "about" that you can build on or subvert in time. The reason doesn't need to hold true for the entire game, just long enough to serve as a framing device. EG: The Witcher starts out as a "monster of the week" setup and then uses that framework to pivot into politics and prophecy once we've seen the premise play out.

The Pilot/Crashtest Adventure: What's first?

I’ve already written about these, but the general concept is to give your party a mostly contained first outing that doesn’t have any larger bearing on the plot so they can focus on learning how their characters play/building the party dynamic. By the time the party's finished this first adventure they'll have already started putting down roots in the world: they'll have in jokes, npcs they've started to care about, an understanding of what's on the horizon, and an idea of where they want to go next.

The Central Gameplay Pillar: How does this all work?

It's important to have an idea what your campaign is going to be about in a mechanical sense in addition to its plot and themes. There is a difference between an adventure that has the party delve a dungeon, and a dungeoncrawling focused campaign. I like to lead with these outright during the campaign pitch so that players can know what they're getting into. Your playgroup will likely have strong opinions about what they like and dislike, even if they don't have the words to describe it, so you might need to explain the ideas for them.

The Hub: Where are we?

I think every good campaign has a hub, some kind of settlement that the party returns to between adventures to offload loot, pick up supplies, and sift through the latest gossip to look for the next questhook. Letting the party return to the same place lets them build up a relationship with it, clarifying the picture in their mind as new details are added and they grow more and more attached. It's possible to have multiple hubs over the course of a campaign, but I'd advise really only having one per arc to best concentrate your efforts. Fill up your hub with distractions and side adventures, shorter stories that the party can get tangled up in while the larger adventure slowly reveals itself. Returning to the same hub also means returning to a familiar and expanding cast of NPCs, which helps your party become more and more invested in the setting

The Main Event: What's going to happen?

Here we get to the meat of the issue, the big story you want to be telling using this campaign. To pull off the sick narrative kickflip you wish to perform, you're going to need to lay a lot of groundwork, seeding in details left and right as well as giving the party a chance to stumble across evidence of your schemes without ever realizing the whole thing. To do this, you're going to work in the building blocks of your big reveal/twist/pending disaster into the setting along with those side adventures from the hub. This will give your party an idea that something is going on, but with more pressing matters to take care of they're going to be distracted up until the moment you decide to pull the trigger.

The Setting: What's over there?

While things like genre and tone are definitely things you should have a handle on from the outset, I personally feel like the details of a setting are best constructed on an ad hoc basis, either in a direct response to something required by part of the narrative (be it side story or main event), or pencilled in at the margins as the party explores the world.. That said, creation of the hub and setting often go hand in hand because it's important to match the settlement to the environment and then shape the environment to the quests inside the settlement. As for what's beyond your hub, I happen to have just written something about building out settings.

Now, this next option is one that I recommend you start thinking about only once your campaign is fully underway, so it doesn't clog up your creative process by focusing on something that you might not even get to

The Change: What the fuck?

A little while after the main event has kicked off and your party is off on the quest that will turn them from mere adventurers into heroes, they start to hear rumours of strange happenings. It's certainly not related to the present scenario, it may even be an unexpected windfall, but it's not something they have time to look into. Time ticks on, the land is saved, and the party is able to enjoy their victory lap as well as some dearly needed time off. Before they can get comfortable however they're slammed by some strange occurrence that they could have never predicted that changes the state of the world. A neighbouring kingdom invades, an important ally is murdered and they're blamed for it, a dragon starts rampaging through the realm. Its important that this event is outside the party's skillset, not necessarily diametrically opposed, but counter to what they were planning

artsource

#dm tip #dm advice #writing #dm tips #writing advice #campaign skeleton

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that-basic-simp · 2 months

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Take Care of You

Mizu x Fem!Reader CW: Blood WC: 1.2k+

"Mizu," I trailed after her, blood seeping out from her wounds and onto the perfect white snow, staining it.

"Mizu," I said louder. "Mizu!"

"I hear you!" she whipped around, her breathing ragged and heavy.

Blood was coming out of multiple wounds on her stomach and shoulders. Some was even dripping down her face and some coming from her mouth.

"Why are you still following me?" she rasped.

"Who else is going to help you with your injuries?"

"I don't need to be helped," she spat onto the ground, blood staining the ground once more. "And I certainly don't need it from you."

I stepped back, a pained expression on my face.

"But, Mizu, we're--"

"I don't care what I am to you. I never should have let you come with me in the first place. You're just dead weight. And dead weight gets left behind."

She turned around, leaning against her sword, that had her training weight as extenders. It acted as the naginata from her previous fight between the thousand claw army. But that fight didn't matter now. She was in need of medical attention and she was being too stubborn to let me help. I let out a sigh and continued to follow her. Knowing her body, she was ignoring the signs of rest. So I was just going to let her body give out before her revengeful spirit does. It didn't last long as we walked for about another hundred feet before her body collapsed onto the snow. Breathing out another sigh, I bent down and hoisted her up, letting her lean against me.

"I got you, Mizu."

Walking towards a nearby shrine, once we reached it, I set her down on the ground and got the fire going, making medicine for her. Once that was going, I dragged her over to the fire and laid her down.

"Y-Y/N," Mizu lazily blinked her eyes open.

"Yes, Mizu?"

"I-I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"Save it for when you're not losing blood. And when you can form a cohesive thought."

"I-I really am, though."

I shook my head, "Go to sleep, Mizu."

Her head fell against the wooden floor and her breathing started to become shallow and then heavy. I removed her blue haori from her upper half and started stitching the wounds. Once they were tightly stitched together, I washed the blood from her body and from the haori. I even stitched it up because I know she won't wear anything else other than this. Putting it back on her, I sat by the fire as it warmed the broth and vegetables.

Sweat rolled down her forehead as she thrashed here and there throughout the night. I know I should have gone to sleep, but if she wasn't able to fight if someone came after us, I at least had to protect her and myself. I don't know how I was going to, but I was going to find a way. The early morning sun rose and Mizu was still knocked out cold. She had a fever. This wasn't good. Grabbing a small bowl, I poured some of the broth into it and lifted her head up.

"Mizu," I whispered. "Mizu."

Her eyes blinked open, barely. Finding my eyes, I raised the bowl to her eye level.

"Medicine. You need to drink this."

She nodded, opening her mouth slightly. Resting the lip of the bowl onto hers, I slowly poured it into her mouth and soon, the broth was drained. I carefully laid her back down and sat watch for a few more days until Mizu was able to open her eyes without falling back asleep. Sitting up, she let out a groan and turned to face me.

"H-How long was I out?"

"A few days."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Who was going to take care of you and watch for enemies."

"Get some rest, Y/N."

"Are you going to be ok if someone tries to ambush us?"

"If they haven't ambushed us when I was knocked out cold, they're not going to."

"I just want to make sure."

"Yes, I should be ok to defend us."

"Ok."

I laid down by the fire and got some much needed sleep. I woke up a couple of days later and found Mizu to be training outside with her sword. Walking outside, I stood by the stairs of the shrine, watching her.

"Make sure not to open your stitches," I called out to her.

She didn't listen. She moved too harshly and blood started to seep out and stain her blue haori. She stopped, placing a hand over her stitches.

"Fucking," I breathed out, growling slightly. "Mizu!"

She turned, a fearful look in her eyes.

"Get in here."

She hurried up the stairs and sat down by the fire. Kneeling beside her, I removed her haori and started to restitch her wounds again.

"I-I can't thank you eno--"

I cut her off by punching her in the face. She let out a groan as her hands covered her mouth and nose, some blood dripping from either one of them.

"I-I deserved that," she said in a muffled tone.

I slapped her across the face, too.

"A-And that."

"What the hell, Mizu?!"

She let out a sigh, removing her hands to reveal that I had gotten her in the mouth. Blood was dripping from the front of her teeth and it was pretty bad, too. It probably wasn't going to stop for a little while.

"I-I'm sorry," she breathed out.

"What you said hurt, Mizu."

"I know," she looked away from me. "I-I didn't mean for it to. I was just disoriented from the blood loss."

I let out a sigh. I couldn't stay mad at her.

"You're lucky I love you. And that I wouldn't hesitate to take care of you."

A soft smile emerged as she turned to face me. It didn't help that blood was staining her lips like a prostitute's make up. Her hand slowly reached for mine, her fingers brushing on top of mine.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "I-I'm really sorry about what I said. I-I don't know where I would be without you. Probably dead."

"Very much so dead," I said in a deadpan tone.

It caused her to chuckle, a rare smile I have only ever seen.

"I'm glad you followed me. And you don't listen to me when I am mean or hurtful to you."

"You were like that the first time we met. Mean and hurtful, but the minute I complimented your eyes, your cold, harsh heart finally melted slightly."

"I think you're the only person I am warm towards."

"And you're the only person that brings out that side of me," I pointed to her still bleeding mouth.

"Yeah. You really got me there."

"I know how to help it."

"How?" she asked as I leaned towards her.

Placing my hands on her cheeks, I pulled her towards me and placed my lips against hers. I didn't care about the iron taste that was on her lips. Or how it would soon overwhelm my taste buds as I began to slowly make out with her.

"Y-Y/N," Mizu said in between the kiss, trying to pull away.

I just pulled her in for another. After a bit, I pulled away and there was blood on my lips. Mizu shook her head, a look of awe in her eyes.

"What would I do without you?"

"You'd die," I chuckled.

She nodded her head, "That I would."

I leaned towards her once more, pressing my forehead against hers.

"Thank you, my ember."

"You're welcome, my water lily."

#bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eye samurai

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woniverse-writes · 7 months

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“ILLUSION”

bada lee x reader

summary: to everyone else you and Bada were one of the most entertaining couples to be around. to everyone else, it seemed like you held all the power as you teased, poked, and flirted at your cool, relaxed girlfriend. but that was simply an illusion...

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, dom bada, switch reader, degradation, choking, not proofread

notes: Bro y/n is getting fucking STRAPPED lmao- well- Bada is getting strapped, y/n’s just taking it🤭 i'm so sorry

Any time the two of you were out with your friends, especially if alcohol was involved, you would find entertainment (and sometimes comfort) in teasing Bada. They were all used to the dynamic you two had going on- Bada always peacefully sitting back and taking whatever hits you gave her, and you perched prettily on her lap making sure she didn't get too comfortable. It was always amusing to watch you tease the tall girl and give your best effort to break her façade.

No matter how many different ways you teased and prodded at Bada’s patience, you almost always ended up exactly how you were now- face down, ass up, moaning and whining into the bed sheets as your girlfriend pounded into you from behind. She occasionally liked to switch it up and have you in other positions, but Bada really loved the aspect of control that came from doing it this way.

“You’ve got nothing to say now, huh? You don’t usually give up this easily…” she teased softly, slowing her pace as she neared the end of her sentence. You whined and arched your back more, trying to push your ass back to meet her hips in hopes that she’d pick up the pace again. Bada just giggled condescendingly, tightening her grip on your hips before slamming her strap back into you. You nearly choked on your moans as she held you in place for a few moments. This had been going on for a couple of hours now- both of your bodies flushed and sticky with sweat and arousal. Bada had been edging you since you got home. She ate you out, fingered you, and even had you grind against her thigh, yet didn’t let you come once.

“Bada- please- god please move…” you whined and writhed against the sheets as much as you could in her hold, barely holding back tears, and she scoffed squeezing your hip harshly before beginning to glide a hand up your spine.

“That’s it? C’mon baby I know you can do better than that-” Her hand was tangled in your hair in an instant, tugging your head back, pulling you up slightly with a gasp. You let out another long whine, resting most of your weight on your hands now that you weren’t completely face down in the sheets.

“It’s like you don’t even wanna cum at this point… you spent all night acting like such a little attention whore and now that you’re getting fucked you aren’t even grateful” she tsked, tightening her grip on your hair, scalp burning from her grasp. God, you loved when she was mean.

“Baby pleeeeeease- I don’t- I can’t- fuck- I need you so bad” you whined and gasped, trying to cohesively string together your thoughts, unable to think clearly with how focused you were on how deep inside you your girlfriend was.

Bada leaned forward so her chest was resting against your back, slowly sliding one hand around your front to press against your stomach, reminding you how deep inside she was, while the other held her weight up by your head. The groan you let out was nothing short of pornographic, turning your girlfriend on even more than she already was (if that was even possible). She began kissing up the top of your spine to your neck, sucking deep purple marks into the skin

“You’ve already got me though… I’m being so giving and kind to you by filling you up with my cock, so what more do you need princess?” Bada murmured against your skin as she gave a slight thrust to emphasize her point. You cried out and tears began to pool in your eyes as she continued to bite and suck, pressing harder against your stomach.

“Fuck Bada- I need you to fuck me” The tears were about to fall due to how desperate you were to cum. She sighed against your skin and pushed herself back up, releasing her grip on you.

“Not even a fucking ‘please’? You really are an ungrateful bitch” Bada pushed you down by the back of your neck, pulling your hips back as she began fucking into you at a pace that had your back arching an ungodly amount. Her immediate intrusion knocked the air out of you and you found it hard to catch your breath with how brutal her thrusts were.

You tried to reach for something to ground yourself, the pillows, sheets, anything- but Bada let go of your neck and grabbed both hands to hold them behind your back. She used this as more leverage to pull you back against her.

“Bada- baby- fuck, baby- I can’t take it anymore…” Your cries fell on deaf ears as your girlfriend’s thrusts continued to hit perfectly against your core, grip on your wrist tightening and definitely leaving bruises.

“Of course you can- you wanna act all tough and in charge? Then you better fucking take whatever I give you and appreciate it” This is the exact reason you acted the way you did- to enjoy the hidden side of your girlfriend that was for your eyes only. Of course there are plenty of other times when you two have sweet, gentle sex or it’s more playful. But good lord did you love being used by her like this? You didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore as Bada somehow managed to go even faster and even deeper, loving how you looked when you finally reached your breaking point- tears streaming down your face, face and body completely flushed, eyes hazy-

“You wanna cum baby?” she questioned in a sickeningly sweet tone, slightly slowing her pace, earning a whine from you as you arched your back more to push against her hips, meeting her thrusts.

“Fuck yes, please please please-” the begging continued for a few more thrusts before Bada let go of your wrists and leaned forward briefly. She wrapped her slender finger around your throat, pulling you up against her so that your back was pressed to her chest. She picked up the pace again, pounding into you as you threw your head back against her shoulder. your moans only increased when Bada moved her hand from your hip to snake down between your legs and toy with your sore clit.

“Do you think you deserve to cum yet?” your girlfriend whispered against your jaw as she bit and licked over the sensitive skin, loving how she occasionally tasted the salt from your flood of tears, which only increased at the question.

“Yes- yes, please I've been such a good girl- I've- I-” Bada shushed your rambling, kissing your cheek with a condescending smile knowing she’s just about fucked you dumb. Her pace picked up again as she nodded and tilted your head toward her, bringing you in for a kiss. It was messy and wet, spit slowly sliding down your face due to how desperate you were.

“Go ahead…” was all you needed to hear in between kisses for you to cum. Your tears flowed even faster at the immense pleasure you felt, seeing a flash of light behind your eyes as they rolled back into your head.

“That’s it baby… look at how well you took me” Bada whispered softly as she pressed gentle kisses to your lips, wiping the tears and saliva off your face as she slowed her thrusts and helped you through your high by circling your clit ever so slightly. Your whines became soft whimpers and eventually turned into deep heavy breaths as you sat on Bada’s lap, wrapped in her arms.

You winced as she held you flush against her and pulled out, still sensitive. Bada moved you to lay down on your back against the soft pillows and leaned forward to lay in between your legs. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed gentle kisses to your stomach as you ran your finger gently through her hair.

“You did so well princess… so good for me” your girlfriend mumbled into your skin in between her kisses. You giggled, slightly tickled by her lips, especially when she began to blow lightly and teasingly on the areas where she left marks. You sat up and scooted back, moving out from underneath Bada, who just looked up at you with confused puppy eyes. You moved to the side and pushed her hip to roll her onto her back, then sat in between her legs. You were in the same position as a few moments ago when Bada had been pressing ticklish kisses to your stomach, except the roles were reversed and there was a mischievous glint in your eyes again.

“Lemme take care of you now…”

note: i don't tag people in any smut works because idk who's over 18 and i'm not about to accidentally tag a minor in these things lol

#bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader #bada lee smut #bada smut #gxg

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leviathanspain · 8 months

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kiss it off me

carmy berzatto x reader

synopsis: the woman who made him a man is back in town and he can barely hold it together

a/n: i tried to make it cohesive without rushing it, but oh well..enjoy!

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no one ever forgot their first time.

it was the sweetest taste, your cherry flavor stained lips, chapped from the dry chicago heat. he remembered the way they felt, soft and rubbery, his teeth had caught on them. then the fruity flavor had turned to iron, but he still kissed you as hard as he did the first time.

after he had bitten you, you had asked gently if he had ever done this before. carmen answered honestly, and you promised you’d teach him everything you knew.

but that had been years ago, and a lifetime of memories had occurred since then, that when richie had mentioned your name, carmy couldn’t place you.

“what was it again?” carmy asked, hands on his hips as he thought hard of what richie had just said.

“y/n. come on, cousin, don’t tell me you forgot!” his neck vein popped out, and carmy shook his head, his hands rubbing across his face as he thought hard.

“was she in school with me? how do you know her?” carmy shot out any questions that could connect you to him in his mind. it sounded familiar, the way richie said your name with thousands of memories behind it.

richie shrugged, “you brought this girl around to every single thing your family threw! she was your little girlfriend-“

“holy fuck- penny?” it was as if all the gears in carmy’s head had finally turned at the right time. he remembered you, of course he remembered you. he had to sift through all the bullshit of the past decade but now, it was like a fresh breath of air.

“penny? i swear her name was y/n.” richie raised his eyebrow, “i saw her at some magazine stand down the street, and i swear she looked familiar-“

“pennington. penny’s for pennington. i-“ carmy chuckled slightly, “mikey called me bear once, when she was around. and she had wanted a nickname like that.” richie could see the warmth in carmy’s face as he talked about you.

richie nodded in response, giving a second for carmy to come back down to earth. “i invited her to opening night. she’s one of those people who mold shit outta clay-“ he demonstrated with his hands, carmy’s eyes just staring out.

“cousin-“

“you invited her to opening night?” carmy echoed, and richie stared, hands falling onto the counter. he nodded, irritated with carmy’s absentmindedness.

“i want to be someone to be remembered.” the crinkle of the empty beer cans underneath your feet, followed your speech, “i want to be an artist!” your hands shot out, the drink in your left hand had partially spilled, but you didn’t seem to notice as you took another swig of it.

carmy’s face was hot. he felt it heat up after his first drink, and now had spent the entire night nervously pulling at his collar, trying to keep up with you.

you had driven him out to the suburbs in your mother’s beaten up volvo. he had gotten drinks, but hadn’t revealed how. but it didn’t matter, as the two of you were out, feet dangling above the ground, sitting in the trunk.

you turned to look at him. he looked beautiful in the moonlight, his blue eyes were deep, like pools of water that you wanted to get lost in.

“don’t you want to be an artist too, carmy?” your voice was soft, set to the pitch of innocence as you brought your hand up to caress his cheek. carmy was shy, eyes always darting away from yours, hands drawn up to his sides. it had taken a lot of convincing for him to even come out with you, but with the beer he had brought, you realized he could still surprise you.

it was in between your question and his answer that you had kissed him. it wasn’t the first time, there had been many more times since. but the passion was the same, the desire for more was always weighing heavy.

“yes..” carmy spoke, closing his eyes as your hands began to unbuckle his belt. he shivered, grabbing your hands, he helped you undo his belt, breath hitching as you kissed him harder.

carmen had been incredibly stressed all day. he had been stressed ever since richie had told him that you’d be coming to opening night. he had tried not to induce an attack, last time he saw you there had been a fight, and it was silence ever since.

but now, just the idea of your presence loomed over him like doomsday. today, even without you, could make or completely annihilate his career. but he was ready to face either or. you had taught him that, better or for worse.

“hey cousin!” richie thundered through the kitchen doors, his suit was dark and sleek, contrasting the chef coats everyone else was wearing. “y/n is at table five. sugar is talking to her, and it looks very,” he paused, and looked at carmy, “interesting.”

carmy sighed, “fuck.” he was busy, too busy that it should be inhumanly possible. he grabbed a towel, one that hung loosely over his shoulder and wiped his hands, “what did she order?” he looked around at all the other workers, looked at their plates and tried to guess.

richie smiled, crossing his arms across his chest as he spoke, “nothing.”

carmy had felt his face rise with heat as he slammed through the kitchen doors. he felt embarrassed, a little shocked even, that you hadn’t ordered anything for dinner.

he turned to the sound of sugar’s laugh, a familiar sound, he had found himself already walking over to the table. you hadn’t seen him yet, natalie had all your focus.

“hey-“ he greeted. sugar was the first to turn, and happily greeted her brother. you followed suit, but you didn’t say anything as the two exchanged a few words. instead you stared at carmy, years older, and completely unknown to you.

“hey bear.” you greeted, voice sweet on his name, you stood up, going in for a tight hug. he smelled of food, not surprising for someone who was just in the kitchen.

“hey pen..” he returned your greeting, and looked at his sister, who excused herself politely.

the two of you just stood for a moment, carmy watching as sugar circled around to talk to richie. carmy turned back to you, and extended his hand to your chair. you both sat, now face to face.

you looked different. the teenage invincibility had been exchanged for a confident, self assured adult. your eyes were still the kindest ones, he felt at ease just staring into them.

his eyes avoided your lips, avoided what they reminded him of.

“richie tells me your a sculptor?” carmy didn’t know why, but that was the first thing he had thought to ask. you laughed, surprised at his question too. but you nodded nevertheless, “yes, a local gallery is displaying some of my work. that’s why i’m back.” you played around with your silverware, and cleared your throat, “this is really lovely, carm. it’s-“ you looked around at it all, at the bustling scenery with various happy customers. “i’m really happy for you.” you finished.

carmy nodded, “yeah. thank you.” he blinked, and remembered what he had wanted to really ask. “are you not hungry or-“ you followed his gaze to the empty plate in front of you and you laughed, “oh- right!” you shrugged, “i don’t know actually. i guess i wanted to see if it was really you.” the way the words came out felt wrong, and you were quick to explain yourself.

“i didn’t mean it like that-“ you assured, and carmy laughed slightly, “i just hadn’t seen you in years that i almost didn’t believe it.” carmy nodded, “well, i’m here..im right here.”

the two of you locked eyes in that moment.

it was a special moment, something of substance that could ground carmy, and remind him of all the good things in life.

you tore your eyes away, and awkwardly laughed, “my show is next friday.” a card had appeared in your hands, and you were scooting it across the table to him, “i already gave one to your sister, and another to richie when i first saw him. you don’t have to come, i just figured-“ you looked around and he nodded, “yeah. no, totally. i’ll go.”

he found himself agreeing to go before he even fully thought it through.

he stood up, grabbing the card he tucked it into his coat. you looked up at him, eyes twinkling.

“bye carm.”

“bye pen.”

“you’ve got to calm down.” sydney had found herself at the end of an almost accident. carmy had forgotten the safe word, and nearly ran into sydney, who was carrying a large pot of boiling water.

she had set the pot down, realizing that there was something wrong with carmen.

carmy ignored her, and continued to furiously cook.

“hey-“ sydney put a hand on his shoulder but that seemed to make it all worse. carmy flinched, and dropped his spatula. he stepped back and shook his head, “back off, chef.”

“carm-“

“now.” his tone cut deep, and sydney nodded, annoyed with his response, she went back to work.

carmy’s hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. wind cut at his face, weaving through all the people on his way to the gallery.

he had checked the date and time multiple times, all day. he wanted to get it right, be there for you like you were for him. it had been a week since opening night, and he had thought about you every single night since.

you waited for him. people kept coming up to you, congratulating you on your new work, but none of it mattered. the work wasn’t for them, it was for him. and he was late.

“i could stay-“ carmy looked around nervously, eyes darting anywhere but the pools of pain in your eyes.

“no.” you bluntly said, “you will not stay here. you cant stay here. trust me carmen, you’re better off.” you had come to terms with the fact that if he stayed, he would be another mikey.

that’s why you had begged mikey not to let carmy work at the beef. he would never leave if he did.

carmy sighed, exhausted from the hours of arguing, “we’ll talk every day. i’ll- i can make time, between class-“ he tripped over his own words, and you had to stop him before it got worse.

“carmy-“ the way you looked at him made him realize that this was it. there was not going to be any calls, or any relationship because you were breaking up with him.

“i got into art school. i’ve been wanting to tell you, but i hadn’t made a decision.” you paused, “this is what’s best for both of us, bear.”

you had spotted him walking in. in the sea of pretentiousness, there he was. his wool jacket, perfect against the chilly weather, it had reminded you of all those winters during school.

“carmy!” you called his name, and waved him over. he weaved through to you, and greeted you with a hug and a kiss, “hey.”

he looked around at all artwork, “looks incredible.” he realized that along with sculptures, you had paintings as well. it was a cohesive collection, something that would definitely get talked about.

but as he looked at more work, he realized with a pang what the theme was. you followed him as he walked all around the gallery, until he finally got the main piece of work.

it was behind a rope, a blue velvet rope on all four sides as carmy, in statue form, looked out into the room of people.

“holy shit-“ he sounded breathless, eyes glued to a perfect posed, stone version of himself.

you watched his expression, unable to decipher how he was feeling. whether he was happy about it or not, you couldn’t tell.

more people came behind you to admire the statue, and carmy looked away, “is that it?” you nodded, and reached out, “come on, there’s one more thing, exclusive for the muse.”

muse, he whispered under his breath. he was your muse.

you took carmy to the office of the gallery. you had set up shop there, your belongings were scattered across the desk. you walked up to the desk, and leaned against it.

carmy walked in after you, and looked expectantly at you. you sighed, “you were the reason i came back. this,” there was a window where the statue could be seen, along with other pieces inspired by him. “was for you. you’ve been something that i’ve been trying to make right.”

carmy shook his head, “i’m not some broken toy that you can fix, penny.” your nickname cut like a blade in that moment and you exhaled. “i know that.” you replied, “i just- i cant get you out of my head, carmy. for years i’ve tried,” you stood up off the desk, and walked towards him.

carmy instinctively wrapped his hands around your waist, sitting them perfectly on your curves. you both remained silent as you got closer. but he was pulling you in too, just too close for comfort.

“come on, bear.” you whispered, nose dragging across his cheek, you closed your eyes and hoped he’d kiss you.

carmy shivered, his grip on you tightened as he kissed your cheek. it was soft, innocent almost. you opened your eyes, bringing your hands up to his face as you pulled him in for a kiss.

it was new. you hadn’t kissed him since you were teenagers. he was inexperienced, but he was willing to learn. but now as you kissed him, you realized that he’s kissed hundreds of people since then. but you didn’t care. you loved his taste, cigarettes and everything sweet.

he kissed you harder, his hands tightening on your hips that it was almost painful. you couldn’t help yourself, you pressed against him, carmy’s back digging into the wall behind him.

“fuck-“ you kissed him more, lips dragging from his to his neck. he shivered, but didn’t say anything as you began to kiss him lower and lower.

the bustling noise of the people outside broke him out whatever this was, and carmy put a hand on yours, which was right on his belt buckle. “not here.” he panted right into your lips, “later you can kiss it all off me, but not here.” he felt naked, those people out there were gawking at his stone figure like some lost greek artifact.

he couldn’t do it now.

you nodded, lingering in his eyes, “of course, bear. time and place, i’ll be there.” you leaned in for a kiss, which carmy happily gave away. a part of him wondered what this would be. he couldn’t think, he wouldn’t.

“i’ll- im gonna go, pen.” he had taken a minute, looking at the door for a moment before opening it. he exhaled deeply, stepping out as the door shut behind him.

you watched him walk, his broad back being lost in the crowd of onlookers. you tried to ignore the urge to smile, but even then, you couldn’t hide it.

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy angst #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy x you #carmy the bear #the bear angst #the bear smut #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader

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after-witch · 7 months

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Seeker [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Seeker [Yandere Mahito x reader]

Synopsis: Mahito wants to play a game. Just a lil thing I had to write after Mahito's line about wanting to hunt down humans in the woods from the most recent JJK ep.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of malnourishment, reader isn't having a good ol' time, mahito is his own warning

If you were prone to long bouts of deep thought in your current state of existence, you might ask yourself: How did it come to this? How did you go from an ordinary life of going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work--

To this?

To being held captive by some unknowable cursed creature with a patchwork face and a penchant for wild, impulsive violence?

To being pinched and held and kissed at his whims, to being kept inside a crude cage at night with a nest of blankets as your only comfort?

He had offered to let you sleep with him inside the hammock the first time you quietly asked if you could have a mattress, perhaps three weeks into your captivity, although your sense of time was no longer cohesive. But you thought about it (pressed so close to him, vulnerable, awkward, fumbling--) and shook your head, so he shrugged, grinning, and shut the door on your cage instead.)

You had only brought up the issue once more, pointing out that people slept on beds or mattresses, and if he was going to keep you then could you at least get something more comfortable than a few blankets on top of a metal cage bottom?

And he’d simply tilted his head and said, in a tone that might be called innocent if the phrase wouldn’t have immediately evaporated in his vicinity--

“Huh?” He looked genuinely perplexed, and you remember the twisting feeling it created in your stomach to see such a human-like expression on him. “But humans keep their pets in kennels, don’t they?” He had gestured towards the water bottle and bag of expired Family Size chips he’d thrown in your cage a few days prior, brows furrowed, voice petulant. “I even keep your food inside so you can eat when I’m gone! Most of them don’t do that!”

You shut up, then, and you certainly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his referral to you as his pet.

You don’t ask for elaboration on much nowadays, because you’ve decided it’s often better not to know. It’s better not to know how he chooses the victims that he transforms into monsters. It’s better not to know how conscious they are, when their mouths form pleas and screams. It’s better not to know if you’ll ever end up like them, writhing and deformed.

Except now, you are being hurled into a completely new situation that has every nerve in your body frayed and burning, and that need to know what the hell is happening grows stronger with every step.

He’s taken you out. Out of the drain and into the light--the brightness and softness of the outside world hurts as much as it provides a twisting sort of relief, competing furiously with the fear growing in your belly.

And, more specifically, he’s dragged you into the forest. Off the marked paths, pulling you here and there like a ragdoll while you trip and stumble to keep up with him, all the while he intermingles assurances of how fun this will be (“You’ll love it, I promise~!”) with giggles that make your stomach lurch.

Until finally he stops, in the middle of the woods. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar; the droning chirps of insects looking for mates, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Gnats buzz by your face but you’re too frightened to swat them away with your free hand, as Mahito has yet to release his grip on your wrist. He has yet to even turn around, instead looking around him--up and about, grinning, almost closing his eyes as if he’s forgotten that you’re there at all.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You have to know.

“Mahito?” Your voice cracks, dry from what little water you had today and the trek into the forest.

His eyes widen--like he’s just recalled your existence--and slowly, he turns his head towards you, a wide grin on his face.

“Ye-ee-es?”

You grit your teeth. You try not to sound frustrated or heaven--not that you think it exists, anymore--forbid, look frustrated, because that usually doesn’t end well.

“I was just…” You swallow, thick, and smile a little. “Wondering why we’re out here. Not--not that I’m complaining. It’s… really nice.”

He giggles. Which can be good or bad, and you’re not sure which of those two his current mood falls under yet.

And then he yanks your wrist, and pulls you close to him. You stumble against his chest, but he catches you, and keeps you still.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Oh. It was a bad giggle. At least for you.

“A… game?” You shouldn’t ask, you don’t want to know. But this isn’t the type of thing Mahito will let you close your eyes about, is it?

There’s an awful giddiness in his voice as he continues.

“Yes! I read about it in a book. Oh!” He grins. “And I’ve seen kids playing it at playgrounds. It’s called tag.” He pauses, and then continues, as if explaining something remarkably patiently to a child. “One person is the seeker, and they seek the other person until they find them and tag them! And then that person is the seeker.”

He’s going to chase you. He’s going to chase you. He’s going to--

You wonder if the feeling of your nerves trying to leave your body through your feet can show on your soul. Probably, because Mahito reaches up and squishes your lips together with his fingers.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be the seeker first, so you don’t have to worry about not catching me.” He stretches his neck to one side and smiles, giving a satisfied sigh. “I’m so generous, right?”

“Mahito,” you say, and you say his name again because he likes it when you do, “Mahito, I’m… not good at games like this. Wouldn’t you rather just have a picnic today? Or we could…” You look around, fumbling for something that doesn’t involve you running through the woods being chased by a monster.

He pouts. Honest-to-goodness pouts, puffing up his cheek, looking hurt and frustrated.

And then he whirls you around and presses himself up against your back, and the silly pout has drained from his body and his voice as he whispers low in your ear, dark and tinged with something distinctly inhuman.

“I’ll give you 60 seconds. That’s enough time, isn’t it, for a human like you?” You can feel goosebumps dotting the back of your neck, and you jolt when one of his fingers traces them on your skin. “Let’s see… how about we play for 5 minutes? And if I catch you, I get to play a different game with you! One you haven’t been letting me play…”

Fear constricts your throat. You don’t ask what this ‘different’ game is because the thought of knowing might just make you vomit.

You already feel like you might, bile and fear sticky in your stomach. This is happening. It’s going to happen. You can’t stop it.

He blows a puff of air in your ear, and the dark thread of tension has dissolved as he gives you a playful shove. You can hear the grin back in his voice.

He claps once, twice, three times.

“And… ready… set… go!”

You propel yourself forward on shaky legs and malnourished muscles. How long has it been since you’ve run anywhere? Much less in the woods, wearing worn out shoes, with a curse who could do worse than kill you with a single touch just yards behind you.

“Oh!” You hear his voice from behind you, distinct but growing fainter. “I’ll start counting, okay?”

You don’t answer--you couldn’t even if you wanted to, chest heaving and breath panting from exertion already--but keep putting your feet to the ground, desperate to put as much distance between you and Mahito in 60 seconds as you can.

“One… two…”

Should you run in a straight line for much longer?

“Three… four…”

Maybe you should turn another way, and make it harder for him to reach you.

“Five… six…”

You might even be able to find somewhere to hide, right? The woods could have tree hollows or caves or something, anything, that could give you some cover. You could wait out the 5 minutes in hiding, rather than trying to run.

“Seven… eight… nine…”

Your brain makes your decision for you, and you veer off to the left, keeping your legs pumping as fast as you can. His voice is getting fainter with every second counted, which must mean you’re making the right choice.

“Ten.”

Your body jerks itself back just as Mahito appears in front of you, hands on his hips, a sly grin on his face.

“Found you!”

Your legs stumble back, a weak attempt to turn and run, but he grabs your wrists and keeps you from getting anywhere. It’s not fair. It’s not--

You shake your head and feel the anger coming despite your fear and heaving chest and his firm grip on your wrists.

“You… you said you’d give me sixty seconds! That was only ten!”

Mahito shakes his own head, soft hair falling over his shoulders. “Mm… I said I’d give you sixty seconds, and I am! You’ve got mmm…” He considers, tilting his head. “40 seconds left or so.”

What is he talking about? You furrow your eyebrows. “But you… you said you’d give me a 60 second head start.”

He blinks at you, and you hate how he can look so innocent, despite everything. You hate even more that you’re never entirely sure when he’s being genuinely naive or pretending. “Nuh-uh. I didn’t say I wouldn’t run in those 60 seconds, too, just that you had 60 seconds. You really ought to pay attention when someone’s explaining the rules of a game!”

He grins foolishly at you and all you can do is tug at your wrists, hoping he’ll either make a mistake and let go or get bored of holding you and let you try to run for it again. But he does neither, simply keeping a firm grip on you while you pull and pull, feet digging into the ground.

Useless. Stupid. Weak.

The tears come, then. Ugly and hot, making your face squish and your lips curl even as you continue to uselessly pull against his grip. You were never going to get away and he knew it and you knew it, too, but did he have to make it so cruel?

“Th-th…this isn’t fair,” you choke out, your tears thickening your voice.

Mahito does release one wrist, then, but only so he can wipe at your tears roughly with his thumb and lick it afterwards.

“D-D-Don’t be a spoilsport,” he coos. Then he sighs, happy and content, like a cat who has gotten all the cream and more. “60 seconds is up, and I’ve still got you so… I win!”

He pulls on your wrist then, bringing you close to his chest.

“That means you have to play what I want to play now, okay?”

You look into his mismatched eyes and you’re terrified of what you find.

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek, humming happily.

“You’ll like this one, I think.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, the upward tug of his muscles. “Although I can’t make any promises!”

You don’t ask what game he wants to play now.

Sometimes, it’s better not to know.

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #afterwitch writes #I am perfectly normal for mahito

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rallamajoop · 2 months

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The Complete Guide to Eye Colour In Resident Evil 7

An addendum to my guide to eye colour in RE8: here's everyone from RE7 too! Getting close-ups of these was way harder than for RE8, because RE7 does not come with a model viewer, so I'm stuck using in-game screenshots and promotional images.

Once again, we'll start with the cheat-sheet version:

The whole Baker family: Blue (except when...) Mia: Brown (FOR NOW) Eveline: Green Alan: Hazel/green Deputy OneSceneWonder: Brown Chris: Hazel/brown (FOR NOW) Clancy, Andre and Peter: Brown Ethan: Still hazel

But it can never just be that simple, can it? So, further notes below.

The Baker Family

The Baker family all have blue-grey eyes. In fact, post-infection, they all have the exact same blue eyes (see top line in comparisons below). You could maybe put this down to genetics for Zoe and Lucas, but when Jack and Marguerite have the same eyes as each other too, that's when you start wondering just how many backwater-hillbilly-stereotypes are in play here.

Mind you, they do have slightly different eyes in the pre-mould flashback that is the Daughters DLC, which you can see in the second row above. All are brighter blues, pre-infection, and Jack gets smaller pupils while Lucas gets a slightly larger iris (Zoe gets nothing, as she's the viewpoint PC and we're not redoing her face if you're not going to see it). So maybe we can hope there's some genetic diversity in the Baker-clan (renders of their eyes in their actual faces also look a little more distinct, but maybe that's a lighting thing). Either way, the Bakers = blue eyes! Got it!

And then we meet Uncle Joe in the other DLC who... has hazel eyes?

IDEK, maybe Uncle Joe's real dad was a different mailman.

Once we get deeper into mould-monster territory though, things do get a little more interesting.

Both Marguerite and Lucas appear with much creepier whitened eyes later in the game ‒ Marguerite's during her boss-fight transformation. Lucas, however, remains steadfastly human-shaped throughout the main campaign, but his eyes are whitened in his video message to Ethan, and in his (pre-monstrous transformation) DLC appearances too. Jack, by contrast, doesn't seem to get new eye textures even after blowing off the top of his own head, or in the boss fight that follows (monster!Jack from the fight in the boat house has completely different eyes, of course, and more of them). Mia, too, has her own set of creepy-alternate-mould-monster-eyes, but they're completely different again.

So what's the internal logic here? I could speculate that Lucas' eyes-only transformation is a sign he's in control of himself in a way Jack and Marguerite aren't, but it doesn't quite add up. If anything, those eyes make more sense as something Lucas was given because we never see him transform like Marguerite, or blow pieces of himself away like Jack: Lucas may look human, but the eyes are there to remind us he's not. There'll always be some details that end up being more about effective storytelling than cohesive lore.

Interestingly, though they don't appear in the game, there are also promotional pics of all four members of the Baker family with glowing white/silver eyes, which are definitely a supernatural feature. It's tempting to try and associate the effect with Rose's glowing eyes from the Shadows of Rose DLC, or perhaps even the general pale-grey-eyes of Miranda and the Lords (more on both in my post on eyes in RE8). But that's territory that really needs its own post or we'll be here all day.

Clancy, Andre and Peter

These are the three ill-fated crew of the Sewer Gators tape you'll encounter early in the game. You may notice Peter (rightmost in the pic above) seems to have even more dilated pupils than the majority of the cast. Amusing as it might be to theorise that he's just on drugs or something, I think there is an explanation: the closest shot we see of his face (and the first shot of the tape) is a close-up into a camera while the team is outside in the dark. His pupils would naturally be dilated in this sort of environment.

So why aren't Andre's dilated too? Well, the closest look we get at his eyes (also pictured) are the final shot of the tape, where he's already dead, and his eyes are covered by a red film. Medical plausibility aside, dilated pupils presumably didn't add to the effect here, so Andre gets regular pupils.

Speaking of assets, there is actually one photo of the three of them in the game, from the pamphlet you can find in their van at the start. You can even almost make out Clancy's face!

Clancy's own eyes are their whole own kettle of worms, but we'll get to that below.

Chris Redfield

Is an odd one: I can't share an eye-texture asset for Chris, because he doesn't actually have a character model at all in the main RE7 title. And explaining that one is gonna take some context.

While RE8 renders nearly all cutscenes using in-game models, RE7 stores far more of its major cutscenes pre-rendered in .wmv format. The opening is pre-rendered, video messages from Mia and Lucas are pre-rendered ‒ even the big moment when Eveline blows out the windows of the tanker and throws Mia into the river is pre-rendered. Not all cutscenes work this way, but basically anything that would require loading a lot of assets that aren't needed in gameplay (eg. the view of the river and tanker for outside) seems to have been pre-rendered as a video instead.

And since Chris' only scene in all of RE7 is in the pre-rendered ending sequence, he doesn't have a model at all (or at least, I couldn't find it). We do see Chris in openings and endings of the Not a Hero DLC as well, and the End of Zoe ‒ but these too are just .wmv files, presumably for all the same reasons.

Now, obviously, Chris is also playable in the DLC, so he does have a character model there. But we still don't get eye textures for him for a couple of reasons: firstly, he wears a face-concealing mask that only comes off for opening/ending cutscenes. But even without it, we might just hit other weirdness surrounding player character models...

As I've already noted, both Chris and Mia get completely different new blue eyes in RE8, but back in RE7, Capcom seemed a little more aware that brown or hazel eyes were a real thing regular white people do have sometimes.

A note on player-character models

Although we mostly just see the hands of whoever we're playing as (usually Ethan), gameplay still uses a full-body model, presumably to aid in rendering dynamic shadows, and give enemies something to cover in blood. Things get weird around the character's head, which isn't actually visible so it can't get in the way of the camera floating inside it, but will still cast shadows and still has textures associated with it (though usually in much lower resolution than other models we'll actually get to see). There are three playable characters in RE7 proper: Ethan, Mia, and Clancy (from the video tapes) ‒ each with their own model and textures.

Ethan and Mia also have more detailed 3rd person models, since we see plenty of Mia playing as Ethan, and a little of Ethan playing as Mia (if only from behind).

Why does this matter? Well, distinct as the three PCs are otherwise, their player models all have the same eyes ‒ top row above shows Ethan, Mia and Clancy, in that order. And they look nothing like Ethan's and Mia's eyes have ever looked elsewhere, which you can see in the comparison below.

I mention this mostly because it's pretty easy to find Ethan's player-model in the game files, note those generic-hazel eye textures with it, and go, "hey, you got his eyes wrong!" But these aren't the same eyes that come with his higher-res texture, or the ones that were copied over into RE8. In fact, the existence of the player-character-default-eye-texture back in RE7 is one of the reasons why I do tend to take full-res Ethan's eyes as 'canon', even though we never see them in either game: someone took the time to repaint Ethan's eyes for his full-res model, and make them distinct from the low-res default used for everyone in 1st person mode. That at least suggests there was some real, intentional effort put into deciding what colour eyes Ethan was supposed to have.

This does leave poor Clancy in more ambiguous territory, however: as he's never seen by any other character, he has no high-res model, and thus no eyes but the default-hazel that Mia and Ethan are rendered with in that mode too. So is this to be taken as Clancy's official eye colour? It may as well be, I suppose. We see so little of Clancy in any form that I was genuinely surprised to find out his he's actually got a player model which is completely distinct from anyone else in the game, with curly greying hair, a neckbeard, and a baseball cap worn backwards.

Render by nightsatkendalls over on deviantart.

I do not have the skills to produce a render of this quality myself, but I can tell you that the cap he's wearing has the logo for the RE Engine on the front (the in-house game engine behind all the modern RE titles, and many other Capcom games).

You'll never see it in game, of course ‒ you'd need both a freecam mod and a mod to make his head visible. But it's there as a weird little easter-egg nonetheless.

Eveline

Eveline is perhaps the only character whose model may not have been updated at all for RE8, but given she's only a hallucination or ghost, that stands to reason. In RE7 though, she also appears as her aged 'grandma' self, who pops up around the house in her wheelchair looking spacey. Grandma-Eveline has two different eye texture assets ‒ one far more washed out than the other. There's next to no good official pictures of her, but fortunately, since she doesn't move around or attack you, she was one of the very few characters I was able to get a decent close-up shot off with the free camera mod. And inasmuch as you're ever in a position to look her in the eye in game, only the faded version of her eyes ever seems to show up. Is the clearer version actually used somewhere I didn't catch? I have no idea.

What really stands out about granny-Eveline's eyes, though, is that they don't look anything like her child-self's eyes do. Child-Eveline is basically the only character in either game with distinctly green eyes. But Granny's are hazel, and not even a particularly similar shade of hazel.

In fact, they look far more like the generic-default hazel of the player character textures than they do like her younger self. Close-up comparisons below.

You could speculate that it was deliberate that Granny-Eveline's eyes don't look anything like kid-Eveline's eyes to avoid tipping off the player that they're one and the same ‒ but realistically, no-one without free camera mods is ever going to get a good enough look at either of them to notice. And it's kind of a shame they didn't just take young-Eveline's eyes and apply the same kind of distortions they seem to have applied to the generic-hazel template to age them up ‒ that would've been a lovely, creepy little detail to find in these textures. But no, generic old hazel it is.

Then again, whatever the real logic at play, the fact Granny-Eveline's eyes are effectively a faded, distorted version of the very same eyes the player themselves never does get to see in the mirror is a pretty creepy idea itself. And intentional or not, that's what I've got to leave you with.

#Resident Evil 7 #Resident Evil #Ethan Winters #Mia Winters #Joe Baker #Marguerite Baker #Zoe Baker #Lucas Baker #Eveline #Alan Droney #Clancy Jarvis #Peter Walken #Andre Stickland #RE assets #unused assets #eye colours

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alwritey-aphrodite · 1 month

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"wow I really cant speak huh? must be how pretty you look" with tasm! Peter parker

Peter knows he’s not exactly the epitome of suave and charming. He’s a little awkward, lanky and clumsy despite his choice of extracurricular, and May says he still leaves the house without his clothes matching or ironed most days. Still, he can’t help but want to talk to you, even when he trips over his words and makes a fool of himself every single time.

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, voice too loud for the quiet library as he gestures towards the empty chair across from you. There are plenty of extra seats, open tables scattered all throughout the room, but you’re like a magnet, and every time Peter sees you, he can’t help but make his way over.

“Go ahead,” you respond in the appropriate volume, with a smile that makes your eyes shine as he sets his bag down, backpack thumping against the floor and causing all eyes to settle on him once again. He’s quick to pull out his own supplies as you turn back to your open textbook, highlighter gliding across the page every few minutes. Peter gets no work done, but he really can’t be blamed because how is he expected to focus when you’re so beautiful when you’re concentrating? Terrified of being caught staring, he turns back towards his blank page and scribbles some nonsense, hoping you don’t think he’s a complete weirdo.

He’s so focused on trying to look like he’s busy without actually doing anything that he doesn’t notice when you shut your textbook and slide it into your bag, and he nearly jumps out of his seat in shock when you lean forward to tap your knuckles against the table.

“Wanna grab lunch?” You ask, leaning across the table to keep your voice down but all Peter can focus on is how pretty your hair looks, illuminated from behind like an angel.

“Yeah, sure, that would be awesome,” he struggles to form any sort of concise or cohesive sentence, but you smile anyway, leaving him to miss your proximity as you straighten up and haul your backpack onto your shoulder.

It really is a beautiful day, and it seems like the entire city is in a good mood, celebrating the end of winter and the beginning of warm weather and sunshine. It won’t last long, and soon everyone will be angry and rude and hot and miserable, but for now, the weather is perfect and people smile as you walk past.

“I’m so ready for this semester to be over,” you say as you tilt your head upwards, like a flower seeking out the sun, and Peter’s so enamored he almost forgets to respond, until you sneak a glance out of the corner of your eye, your lips quirked up in a teasing smile, something less soft but no less beautiful than the smile he typically receives.

“Oh yeah, me too,” he manages to reply, your knuckles brushing against his as you swing your arms while you walk.

“Any big plans?” This time you tilt your head towards him, and the full force of your attention is almost too much, almost enough to make Peter’s heart stop and his brain shut down. He doesn’t trust his brain to create a full, coherent response, so he just shakes his head, smiling as you reply, “Me neither,” before he even gets the chance to ask.

The two of you stop by one of the many cheap takeout restaurants near the library, grabbing your food and finding a bench to enjoy the weather, keeping your head tilted up to the sun as if it’s truly magnetic, as if you don’t have a choice but to bloom. Peter tries his best to be a good conversationalist, but he’s got so many thoughts and feelings swirling through his brain that every time he looks at you, or can feel you looking at him, he’s unable to respond the way he wants to.

“Wow, I really can’t speak, huh?” He asks rhetorically after stuttering over his words for what seems like the millionth time, “Must be how pretty you look.” He spares you a sideways glance, a little afraid to look at you fully, but he can’t help but grin when he sees your mouth open and close, silently attempting to form a response. He laughs and you follow suit, leaning against his side with the force of your giggles and sending him into a spiral all over again. You'd been on equal footing for a minute, but even as his heart pounds against his ribs and you straighten up again, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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