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#source: smash. House
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Sothis: I am at a loss for words!
Byleth, narrating: Despite being at a loss for words, Sothis continued to yell at me for another 15 minutes.
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Fitz: Why does Tam always do the laundry so loudly?
Keefe: So everyone knows that no one helps him out around the house.
Tam, in the distance: *slams the washing machine shut*
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Ness: i will be haunted by my actions forever, woot, woot!
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Bayonetta: Wow, what a surprisingly peaceful, domestic moment. When will it be ruined?
*crash*
Ganondorf: BAYO
Bayonetta: There it is...
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stylesbandshirts · 1 year
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income check for possible new house got denied because I don’t have “stable income” I hate temping agencies I hate the requirement for your income to be 3-4x the rent price I hate everything
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nanamiluvs · 2 months
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jealousy !
pairing : nanami kento x reader
rating : mature
wc : 800
warnings : jealousy, reader is afab but no gender mentioned, reader trying to make nanami jealous, gojo is reader's accomplice, the mature content is very brief, overstimulation, fingerfucking, kind of dirty talk, nanami is a sweetheart nonetheless ♡
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
nanami who doesn't get jealous when you blatantly flirt with a certain white haired friend acquaintance of his. nanami who totally doesn't get his revenge.
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nanami who doesn't get jealous.
nanami who finds it cute when you try to make him so, a smile on his lips as he watches you. why would he feel jealous? the man is in love with you and he knows you feel the same way. the trust he has in you has no limit.
nanami who knows it's one of your attempts at making him jealous when you giggle at another one of gojo's jokes. nanami thinks they're miserable, he has heard better punchlines from 5 year olds.
nanami who doesn't mind you at all, flirting with his friend right under his nose. he thinks it's adorable, the way you think you can fool him.
nanami who, despite that, shifts in his seat when gojo leans in closer to you with a smirk on his face. he's not...jealous, he simply thinks that gojo doesn't need to look at you like that.
nanami who spends the rest of the evening in silence, jaw clenching as your chatter with gojo fills the table. gojo's telling you about, uhh, one of his made-up stories? nanami's not really sure. he only knows that you've been grinning all night. he doesn't have a problem with that, seeing your smile brightens his day. just not when the source of that curvature of your lips is the man named gojo satoru.
nanami who knows this was probably a plan you made beforehand which gojo was happy to oblige in, yet the way he casually acted his part made nanami frown with displeasure.
nanami who excuses himself to the bathroom, leaving you two alone. you sigh, lost and defeated. "i think he just...doesn't get jealous, man. i just spent a whole night in vain." to which gojo smirks in response, taking his sunglasses off and getting closer to whisper in your ear, "trust me, if i know nanamin, he's gonna murder me."
nanami who witnesses the sight of you giggling with gojo's face oh-so-close to yours from afar.
nanami who clenches his jaw, yet sits back down.
nanami who thinks it's time to leave as he sets his share of the bill down on the table, getting up from his chair. he places a hand on your shoulder for a moment, the touch fleeting as he pulls his hand back. his brown eyes are staring down at you, his gaze piercing. you smile at nanami and get up, winking at gojo who just smiles back, having done his work.
nanami who spills no words as he drives the car. he's going at his usual speed despite the childish anger brewing in him, eyes fixated on the road ahead. you smile sheepishly, you also knew that nanami was aware it was all an act.
nanami who pushes you against the closed door as soon as you get in the house, his lips smashing against yours with fervor and frustration. "was it fun, my love?" he says, his hand coming up to grab the back of your hand to guide you into his kisses. his eyes bore into yours, demanding a response.
nanami who takes your clothes off, the pieces of fabric long forgotten on the floor. "or do you really want that sad excuse of a man to touch you like this?" he asks as he pulls you into his lap, your back flush with his chest. his teeth bite into the exposed skin on the area between your neck and shoulder, sucking.
nanami who kisses you when you part your lips to answer, his other hand holding your jaw possessively. he pulls you in closer by the small of your waist, leading your bodies into the bedroom. "was it fun, begging for my attention?"
nanami who bullies his thick fingers into your cunt, ruthless with the pace he set. "why aren't you talking, darling?" he whispers as his fingers draw out yet another orgasm from your shaking body. "here i was, thinking you were being quite chatty today. are you worn out already?"
nanami who makes you whine from overstimulation before even sliding inside you. his words mock you and your desperate attempt of an evening, telling you how cute you were for such an idea.
nanami who can't deny you were successful.
nanami who manhandles you onto your back on the bed, lips on yours as he positions himself with your entrance. his dick twitches with anticipation, a need to pound into you. "cat got your tongue?" he says, your state of daze endearing in his eyes. "not that confident now?"
nanami who pushes himself into your wet cunt with a quiet grunt escaping his lips. he presses his featherlight kisses on your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his lips.
nanami who forgets how he was supposed to take his anger out on you, his adoration weighing heavier.
nanami who wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest as he whispers into your ear, his tone so in love. "why should i feel jealous, my love?" he kisses your temple, "you know i am as yours as you are mine."
nanami who gets a little bit jealous sometimes.
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reqs are open!
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lu-vin-it · 1 year
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Fate
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────
Summary: Daryl and Y/N are split at the beginning of the apocalypse. When a new group comes to the farm, maybe fate will be on your side.
Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader
Pronouns Used: None mentioned
Word Count: 1,903
Warnings: Mention of weed/smoking, i think mention of alcohol too. also minors having sex, not explicit but it is hinted that Daryl hooked up w/ a girl when he was 15
A/N: Ty @stqrluvr for proofreading ily bf!!!
Edit: Hey! After reading the comics I realized that Daryl isn’t in his 30s when the apocalypse started so i changed the years up a bit! for context: Carol is 25 and he’s supposed to be younger than her according to some sources so I went with that.
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Aprox. 1999- Daryl and Y/N are 13 and 14 respectively .
“Y/N, this is Daryl. Why don’t y’all two go play up in your room while the grown ups talk?” Your Dad said, a blonde boy who looked about your age stood behind him with his dad and older brother. 
“I have homework, Dadd-“ You stopped when you saw the anger fester on your Dad’s face. “Uh.. we’ll go on a walk.” 
“Alright.. why don’t you go to the gas station..” he reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, handing you a ten dollar bill. “get somethin’ for yourself and your new friend.” You took the money and nodded before closing your notebook and walking past the men. Daryl followed you. 
“Son of bitch treats me like I’m six and not fourteen..” You turned to the boy. “Wanna get some candy?” 
“You buyin’?” You laugh and nod.
“C’mon.” You nod at the direction of the highway. He smiled and followed you. 
Aprox. 2001
“Daryl, wake the fuck up. I’m gonna leave in ten minutes with or without you, you fuckin’ ass.” You yell into your best friend’s room. Sighing, you put your hand against your forehead and walked to the living room. 
“Y/N.. how old are you now?” You look up to see Merle Dixon creepily staring at you. 
“Not old enough… I will never be old enough..” You gag. 
“Well you’re the one who came into my house lookin like that.” He licks his lips. 
“Yeah. I sure did. For Daryl. Go fuck yourself, Merle.” You flip him the bird. 
“Shit, sorry Y/N. I overslept.” You turn around to see Daryl leaving his room shirtless, a girl, who you recognized from school, but not well enough to know the name of, walks out behind him. She stands awkwardly for a moment before waving at you and leaving. 
“And who was that?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.
“Er.. Sandy. I think. I dunno.. I was drunk as shit yesterday.” You laugh to cover up the jealousness you felt.
“Please..” You say, still laughing. “Hurry up and get dressed before I leave you here to go to this lake by myself.” You shake your head and walk out of the house to your car. 
Aprox. 2007
“I don’t get it dude.” You said, shaking your head. Daryl sighs.
“There ain’t nothin’ to get. He’s a cheatin’ asshole who would have done the same thing to anyone.” You glance up at him and wipe the tears off your cheek. 
“Yea.. I guess. I just..” You sigh. “I thought he was the one.. you know?” You scoff at yourself. “Stupid.” 
“It ain’t stupid. He’s stupid.” Daryl flicked the cigarette butt on the ground and smashed it with his heel. “Never liked his sorry ass.” He mumbled. While that was true, he mostly didn’t like him because he was with you.. and that was what Daryl wanted more than anything. 
Aprox. 2009
“Ugh..” You groan. “I hate school, why did I become a teacher?” You hypothetically ask Daryl. He was laughing at you from across the living room. You were grading papers while Daryl was watching a wrestling match on TV. 
“‘Cause you wanted to ‘Make an impact in kids' lives’.” You roll your eyes.
“Fuck the kids.” You mumble, glaring at the stack of essays in front of you. “Whose winnin’?” 
“I reckon Randy Orton.. seems most likely.” You nod.
“Yeah..”
August 15th, 2010. 11 Days pre-apocalypse.
“Have fun on the campin’ trip.” You said, switching your phone to your other ear. 
“Yeah.. Merle’s comin’ along so.. I probably won’t.” You frown at your pessimistic best friend.
“Why is that douche comin’? Thought you said he was out on another bender?” You ask, reminding him of the conversation you had the day before.
“He was. Came home last night full o’ beer. He was high as shit too. Guess he just wants to prove he’s more capable than me.” Daryl sighs. “How’s Atlanta? Fuck any politicians yet?” You loudly laugh.
“I hate you, no I have not. But if I do, I’ll call you right after.” You pulled your phone off your ear when you felt it buzz, your Dad was calling you. “My Dad’s callin’. I gotta go, bye Dar.” 
“Stay safe.” With that you end the call and accept your Dad’s.
August 27th, day after the apocalypse began.
“C’mon, you can come to my house.. it’s safe there.” You look at your friend, Maggie, and nod. “We can make signs to leave on the road, that way if your Dad or someone comes looking for you, they can find you.” You smile at her.
“It’s okay. Let’s go.. I guess.” You say monotonous. 
The day Carl gets shot. (Present day.)
“Shit! Whose that?” You exclaim, taking the dish gloves you had on to grab your gun and go to the door. “Someone’s here!” You look at the figure for a moment and realize he was carrying a child. You looked behind him and saw Otis along with another man running behind him. “They’re with Otis!” Hershel walks up to you and looks out the door over your shoulder. Maggie runs up behind y’all with her binoculars.
“Shit the boy is injured!” She yells
“Was he bit?” Hershel asks. The rest of the Greene family poured out the front door. 
“Shot. By your man.” The man, who was wearing a sheriff’s uniform, said. 
“Otis?” Patricia wondered aloud. 
“He said to find Hershel, is that you?” He sobbed. “Help me, help my boy.” 
“Get him inside!” Hershel hurries into the house, the entire household is on high alert. “Patricia get my whole kit.” He folds his sleeves up. “Maggie, painkillers— Coagulates— grab everything!”
“Okay!” 
“Y/N, clean towels, sheets, alcohol!” You run off to get everything Hershel asked. You grabbed everything faster than you knew you could run. 
“Here!” 
“Pillowcase!” 
“I-Is he alive?” 
“Pillowcase quick!” You take one off of one of the many pillows and hand it to him.
“Fold it! Quickly! Make it into a pad!” He grabs Rick’s hands and places them onto the makeshift pad. “Put pressure on it.” He puts his stethoscope on and listens around the boy’s chest. “I've got a heartbeat… it’s faint.” The man shakes. 
“I’ve got it— step back!” Patricia says, pushing back the stranger. 
“Maggie, IV.” 
“We need some space.” Maggie yells, pushing him back more. 
“Y/N, take him outside.” You nod and grab his hand, dragging him back out to the porch. 
“W-Wait no— My boy h-he.. I can’t leave Carl, what're you doing?” 
“What’s your name?” 
“R-Rick.” You nod.
“I’m Y/N. They need their space in the room right now. Let’s stay out here and talk.” Rick looked at you like you were crazy but nodded. “Okay. Good. Uhh.. where were you before what happened?” 
“Um. Uh. T-The highway. With my group.” 
“Oh you’ve got a group! That’s awesome. How many people are in your group?” 
“T-Ten. M-My best friend Shane he’ll be here with uh… with Otis any second now.” You nodded. 
“That’s nice that you have a best friend in your group. Who else are you close to in the group?” 
“M-My wife.. Lori.. s-she oughta be here..” He sobs, putting his face in his hands. 
“Run!” Your neck snaps to the field. Otis and another man were running.
“Stay here, what’s your friend’s name?” 
“Shane.” You nod and run to the men. 
“Shane, you go to Rick. I’ll stay with Otis and help him get to the house.” You say to the black haired man. He nodded and ran quicker. You jogged past him to Otis. You wrapped your arm around him and hauled him back to the house. 
Later that day, Otis and Shane left to get medical supplies for Carl while Maggie took the horse and went after Rick’s wife, Lori. A man called Glenn followed shortly after Lori’s arrival, he had T-Dog with him who was injured. Maggie seemed smitten with Glenn. He told you all that the rest of the group would be there the next day.
Shane came back that night with a heavy heart. Otis sacrificed himself for him. The night was full of grief.
The next morning, you woke up late. Everyone was outside helping the rest of the group settle in. You met Carol first, you told her you were sorry about her daughter and that you would help however you could. She thanked you and you helped her set up her things. You met Andrea next, she was a little more standoffish but you didn’t mind. 
After meeting Andrea, you retreated into the house, deciding to start on lunch. It wasn’t much, but you were able to make salads with the crops on the farm. Carol came to help you after a while.
“So.. how are you related to the Greenes?” 
“Oh I’m not. Maggie and I knew each other before the spread. We were hangin’ out when everythin’ went to shit and I couldn’t get back to my Dad.” 
“I’m sorry about your Dad.” You shook your head.
“S’fine, didn’t like him that much. Mostly my best friend that I miss. I don’t know if he made it out.” You snort. “Probably did though.. he and his brother were out hunting when everythin’ happened.” She nods.
“Maybe you’ll find him soon.” You smile.
“I hope so. I hope he’s alive when I do.” 
Carol went out to get everyone after you guys were done. It took about ten minutes before everyone 
came into the dining room. There wasn’t enough room for everyone at the table, so some stayed standing. 
“Where’s Daryl?” Andrea asked before shoving a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. Your mouth went dry. 
“He’s comin’, he was getting stuff ready to go after Sofia.” Rick replied. Your heart was beating out of your chest. 
“N/N? You okay?” Beth pondered when she saw the look on your face. You nodded and walked out of the dining room and then out of the house. You looked around before you saw him. It was Daryl fucking Dixon. 
“Dixon!” You yelled, running down the steps and to him.
“Y/N?” He stopped in shock. 
“Holy shit!” You jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him. 
“W-What’re you doin’ here?” He pulled you off of him and held your face in his hands. You were crying at this point.
“Maggie, she was my teacher’s assistant and when the infection started she took me here.” You stared at him. “I’m so happy you’re here Daryl.. I was so worried that you did—“ You were cut off when Daryl leaned forward and kissed you. Of course, you kissed him back, you had been wanting this since you were 18. When you broke apart you smiled. “I love you.” You admitted. He grins and kisses you again, you knew that that meant he loved you back. 
“I’m so glad I found you.” He leaned his forehead against yours and smiled. 
“What just happened..” You turn around to see everyone on the porch, Glenn’s head was tilted and he stared in confusion.
── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────
𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ☻︎ꨄ
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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 1 month
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I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.
But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?
The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.
It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.
And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.
He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.
So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.
That tracked.
They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.
Still.
By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.
He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.
"Be with you in a minute!"
The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.
"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.
"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."
"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.
Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"
"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."
"Got a first aid kit too?"
"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."
"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"
"Oh lord."
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WHAT WE’RE WITNESSING IN GAZA, in other words, is not self-defense; it is an opportunistic offensive. It is not a “war,” the word used mendaciously and misleadingly by most of the mainstream Western press; it is a campaign of genocidal violence. Indeed, it’s a “textbook case of genocide,” as Craig Mokhiber put it in his letter resigning from his role as the Director of the New York Office of the UN’s High Commissioner for Human Rights. His words have been echoed by many scholars of genocide and the Holocaust. Genocide is, after all, the term international law provides for a situation in which one group imposes on another “conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part,” in addition to killing or “causing serious bodily and mental harm to members of the group.” Beyond the 11,000 civilians killed, the UN has estimated that 262,000 residential units have been damaged or destroyed—amounting to about half of Gaza’s entire stock of housing—and 1.7 million people displaced from their homes. The territory’s basic infrastructure of electricity, water, and sewage networks, repeatedly battered in previous Israeli assaults, has been damaged beyond repair. Newly installed solar panels have been deliberately targeted and smashed. Israel has targeted and destroyed eleven bakeries producing the staple on which the population depends for its very survival; it has bombed the fishermen’s boats which are, or were, another potential source of nourishment; it has bombed and churned up the fields that sustain Gaza’s surviving agriculture; it has bombed water conduits and reservoirs. People are forced to drink dirty, polluted, contaminated, or brackish water, with the inevitable results of diarrhea and disease. Hundreds of corpses are rotting under the rubble. Whoever survives the bombing today will be drinking seawater and eating unbaked wheat in the future, if not starving, or dying of the diseases already proliferating from the raw sewage running through streets. And there will be nowhere for them to live.
Saree Makdisi, Physical Destruction in Whole or in Part
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idkfitememate · 3 months
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how about boar!creator deciding to help Diona and join her on a raid of dilucs mansion? I can just imagine what might happen! Like diona decides to put an end to the wine industry in mondstadt once and for all and boar!creator is just there with her, reveling in the chaos! Dilucs goes to see what the commotion is in his wine cellar and there they are like ʘ⁠‿⁠ʘ
Diluc woke up to the sound of smashing, crashing, and liquid spilling.
It was the dead of night. Literally midnight.
Groaning as he got up, popping a couple joints and grabbing his blade, the red haired man made his way downstairs where maids and his butler, Elzer stood outside the kitchen area.
Walking up, he glanced at Elzer, who only looked back at him, then back at the kitchen.
Finally looking into the kitchen, Diluc was also shocked into a state of paralysis.
There stood you, the now well known “Boar of the Wilds” and his self proclaimed enemy, Diona. In piles of glass. And puddles of wine. As well as food, regular water, sweets and just in general whatever you two could get your hands… well hands and hooves on.
The two of you only looked up at the large group that surrounded you, before glancing at each other.
Diona looked at you and nodded. You nodded back.
She quickly hopped on your back while she yelled “CHARRGGGEEE” as you ran towards Diluc, evading the rest of the staff, who all shouted it screamed in shock.
Few took out weapons to defend the head of the household, while you two chased the now on defense Diluc around the bottom level of the house. Your tusks were stronger than most boars, so naturally?
You begin bashing through walls!
Diluc was noticeably getting more and more pissed so you made your split second decision, and burst through the wall.
Right next to the front door. With Diona on your back.
The staff and Diluc all moved to stand near the new hole in front of the house. The staff then turned to Diluc only to notice that the usually calm man now nearly had steam pouring from his ears.
They all took a step back.
Diluc was beyond pissed, however. He knew about the less than smooth relationship he had with Diona, but to do this! This was just… just…
Childish!!
But then he stopped.
She was a child.
And now he was thinking.
Why was a child his main source of competition?
…Why was a child running a bar..?
Hehe, if it’s chaotic, Boar!Creator is all in! Also, I’m gonna admit something to you guys… I don’t like Diluc that much. He’s just not my favorite character! I much prefer Klee or Razor! ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა
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rodolfoparras · 4 months
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The abo barracks bunny was so cute but I wonder how ghost opens up to reader
Omega Ghost who’s cautious of any alphas he come across, fearing that they’ll see his status as inferior and pray on him for it. So when you join the squad it’s only normal for him to be cautious especially when he ends up losing his hard earned title and spot to someone just because they’re born an alpha
“Not much I can do about it Simon you know the rules alphas are to led the teams we’re all omegas here” price says, cigar snug between his lips.
Now ghost wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize missions or tear this task force apart but that doesn’t mean he’s all buddy buddy with you.
He keeps it civil, but maintains distance, only ever makes conversation with you during missions and flees the house when he thinks you’re going into heat fearing the unpredictability that comes with it
You respect the boundaries he’s set and you don’t try to form anything past a professional relationship with him but you can’t help but notice how distanced he is to the pack.
He never goes on runs with you, opting on taking his own route, never asking anyone to help him deal with his heats instead locks himself away in his room where no one sees him for a whole week, doesn’t even have a mate nor a family of his own, it’s like he has no one but himself in this word
You cant help but worry about the lonely life he leads so you try to fill the emptiness in your own little ways, leaving him food outside his door when he is going through heats, making sure he’s never far away from the pack when he goes on his own runs, keeping mindlinks open and making your presence known, in case he needs you , even making sure he never spent any holidays alone even though he vehemently insisted on doing so.
And it almost seems inevitable how things start to turn, how he starts thinking about you more and more, if you’re safe on a mission, if you’re doing alright even though you’re an alpha and he should have no reason to worry about that, he starts noticing your presence more always acutely aware when you accidentally stand too close to comfort, one time he could feel your body heat brushing up against his, knees knocking together and he felt the hair on his body lifting, one time you’d even gone out of your way to rip a piece of fabric from your uniform to patch up his wound and besides the prominent copper scent he could also smell your scent all around him and he purred fucking purred prayed the ground would swallow him when he realized that you heard him
Ghost was so in his own head he didn’t see the way you looked at him, the way you followed him around like a lost puppy, how you’d done anything for his approval, how you’d bow at his feet if he asked you to do so
one day Ghost walks around on base and hears the most pained sound he has ever heard before he quickly rushes to the source only to end up in front of your room and as soon as he arrives he’s hit with your scent making him weak in the knees
He knows what this means you’re in heat he should turn around and leave but you’re in pain and everything in him is begging to help ease the ache so he knocks at the door and it takes you a moment to open it but as soon as you see it’s him as soon as his scent hits you you’re smashing the door closed and he’s baffled absolutely suprised tries knocking a second time but you’re just telling him to go away sounding even more in pain
but he won’t leave he’s clearly worried about you so you crack the door open peak through it face pinched in pain and voice strained “please please leave Simon you shouldn’t be here “
“No”
“What?” You say in disbelief
“Let me help you, through your heat”
“You’ve gone mad” you say, trying to close the door again
But ghost doesn’t say anything else instead he pushes his way into your room before repeating his words from earlier “let me help” he says even goes as far as pulling the balaclava off his face and you see the messy tufts of blonde hair the soft brown eyes that peer up at you
“Please I want to “
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Text
Shez’s latest attempt to kill Byleth
Byleth: *is quietly reading on the sofa*
Suddenly, Shez appears from behind the sofa, and tries to strangle the unsuspecting Byleth with a string, only for the string to snap.
Shez, annoyed, ducks back from behind the sofa, only to reappear with a giant war hammer. They are about to strike the still oblivious Byleth when they suddenly topple over from the weight.
Shez once again, reappears with a chloroform rag. They lean in to use it on Byleth, before suddenly getting second thought.
Shez: Oh who am I kidding?! I can’t go this! ACHOO! *instinctively presses the chloroform rag to their own mouth and nose, knocking themself out*
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hp-hcs · 5 months
Text
😜💖 friendship is magic 😌✨ (Chapter Four of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader
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❕new addition of Regulus Black❕
tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder
based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. just slow plot shit this chapter, i’m afraid
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Determined to find the source of the leak, Blaise tromps back out to the hall to find wherever the L/Ns stashed their pole hook to open the attic. Tucked away in a dusty corner is where Blaise finds it, and he carries it back into Y/N’s room with a pleased expression.
This was going to be a piece of cake. If Blaise could find the leak and patch it up, maybe the L/Ns would put in a good word with the courts and shorten their sentences. Or his, anyway.
Slowly raising the pole hook up towards the ring handing from the attic ladder, Blaise missed multiple times, the ring bouncing off of the hook.
“Hey.”
“Holy fucking-” Blaise startles and drops the pole hook, taking a step back. The figure standing in the doorway of Y/N’s room waves awkwardly.
“Sorry- I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Regulus? Er- Regulus Black? I’m the grocery boy for the L/Ns.” He trails off, motioning to the milk crate he held against one hip that was practically overflowing with produce and wrapped butcher’s packages.
“Oh! Yes, yeah, sorry. Uh, house just has me on edge is all,” Blaise rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Do you need help with the groceries?”
Regulus’ eyebrows raise and he smiles. “That would be fantastic, actually,” he turns on his heel, already starting down the stairs.
Blaise has to jog to catch up, following the spry boy ahead of him down to the kitchen. Regulus is maybe a year younger than him, but has far too much energy for five in the morning.
“So why are you lot here? The L/Ns aren’t exactly known for their warmth and welcoming-ness. If you’ll excuse my bluntness, they don’t really have a propensity for entertaining guests.”
“They’re on vacation. Uh, we’re here as part of a…community service punishment,” he winces as he skates around the truth.
“Ah, nice,” Regulus seems unruffled as he puts away a carton of eggs. “What are they making you do? House-sitting?”
“Uh, babysitting.”
Regulus hums. “Ah, really? They didn’t take Y/N with them? That’s pretty surprising.”
Blaise startles. “Please tell me you don’t also think it’s…”
“Alive? ‘Course not. But it’s better to just humor them. Mrs. L/N gets awfully upset if you mention anything about it being inanimate, and this job pays too well for me to want to piss off my employers.”
Blaise laughs. “That’s fair. So…was there really an Y/N? Like, an actual one?”
Regulus nods, handing him a stack of cans and motioning towards the cabinet they belonged in. “Mhm. We were never allowed to play with them when we were kids. My older brother always called them freakish. And Mr. L/N only ever described them—the one time I asked, back when I very first started working for them—as odd.”
Blaise pauses halfway through stacking apples in the fruit bowl. “You knew them? Like, you were the same age?”
“They were a year or two older than me, but yeah,” Regulus accepts the mug of coffee Blaise offers with a quiet thanks, sitting down with him at the kitchen table.
“Anyway, story goes that they were playing out in the woods with Brahms—he was their only friend, that I know of—and they got in an argument or something… Mr. Heelshire—that’s Brahms’ dad—found ‘im by the river, skull all smashed up. The police chief wanted to question Y/N, you know, just to cover all the bases, but nobody could find ‘em and then-”
Regulus makes a fwoosh noise, setting down his mug to spread his hands out as if to imitate an dramatic explosion.
“Boom! The L/Ns’ house completely burned down. The only person inside? Y/N L/N.”
Regulus takes a sip of his coffee before speaking again. “Look, I’m not saying they’re connected, but…”
Blaise shivers, cracking his knuckles anxiously. “How long ago was this?”
“Oh, a while. Happened when I was real young. I think Y/N was…eight or nine. Should be just about a decade since then.”
“So why the doll?”
“Nobody knows,” Regulus shrugs. “They rebuilt the house after the fire, and then the doll just showed up one day. It’s creepy as fuck, I’m aware.”
“Just a bit,” Blaise drawls.
Regulus laughs. “You seem cool, man. D’you wanna come hang out with me sometime? I could take you to the good restaurants in town for like, lunch or something. Lord knows you gotta get outta this house.”
“Sounds great,” Blaise grins. “Would be nice to hang out with literally anyone other than those guys. I love ‘em, but y’know.”
“Well, if you’re not busy, how ‘bout today? There’s this awesome old-school diner that makes the best onion rings-”
Regulus chatters on, promising to pick Blaise up at noon for lunch. Blaise smiles, actually smiles, and tells him he can’t wait. After walking him out to his car, Regulus calls from the window, in a sing-song voice,
“See you soon, Blaisey-Waisey!”
Merlin, he’d get along great with Pansy, Blaise muses as he walks back towards the house.
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raytorotits · 11 months
Note
tell me about ray toro. more. please. i love your ray toro knowledge.
hi! sorry I've been sitting on this one for a while. tumblr WILL NOT LET ME PUT LINKS IN THIS. so feel free to send asks if you want sources on any of these o7
in no particular order:
ray hates Shrek 3.
ray toro's dad was a postal worker.
ray learned to play guitar by listening to records (mostly metal, but he's got a lot of classical guitar influences as well) and he just smashed the lead and rhythm together and that's why he plays Like That.
he learned on his older brother louis' guitar, and louis taught him a ton until one day he was like "dude you're better than me." louis came to see ray on tour too :)
ray didnt have a lot of friends in high school bc he spent all his free time practicing guitar or gaming.
he also enjoyed composing string arrangements in high school.
his senior quote was bababooey.
ray didn't believe gerard when gerard called him the best guitarist he knew in bullets era (baby... they were right).
the first time gerard saw ray play he played the muppets theme without looking at the frets (ray would later go on to get his own muppets wiki entry).
ray first worked with gerard artistically on the breakfast monkey, which he composed for.
ray is a huge fan of bluey.
he uses 1password and recommends you use a password manager.
he finds housework calming.
he was a stay-at-home dad while his wife got her master's degree in psychology. this is when he wrote his solo album :')
speaking of which. he didn't spend a single night away from his son for the first 3 years of his life.
he included his son playing a toy drumset in the mix of his song "the lucky ones," which is about his family.
he wrote "isn't that something" explicitly about the mcr breakup.
he and jarrod broke the pre-war hardwood in Ray's living room tracking drums for remember the laughter.
his house is decorated almost entirely in antiques.
he spells "woah" as "woh" (incredibly important).
he uses a nose for his smileys (also very important)
there are a million more. but this has to end somewhere. please enjoy Him.
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lewkwoodnco · 5 months
Note
Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song "How you get the girl." With them being friends and her being there when he opened the agency. All of them are on a case, and she almost gets ghost touched, so the drive home is very intense, then Lockwood gets mad at her for being reckless, she doesn't want to argue with him so she just goes to sleep crying, the next week Lockwood avoids her, and he sees a nightmare about her dying, so he pushes her even further away. She thinks that he is in love with Lucy because he is avoiding her and spending more time with Lucy. So she leaves the agency, and Anthony doesn't stop her because he thinks he is doing the right thing for her. Lucy and George miss the reader because they're very good friends, so they persuade Lockwood to tell the reader how he feels and bring her back, but Lockwood doesn't listen because he thinks it's for the better. Meanwhile, the reader gets very depressed because she misses them. After months of missing them, she can't do it anymore and tries to drown herself, but Lucy and George find her, so she gets angry at them and leaves. Lucy and George tell everything to Lockwood, who can't do it anymore. So he goes to the reader's house to confess and get her back.
How You Get the Girl - Lockwood x Reader
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A/N: wooooo I’ve taken a long break from angst and this fic scratched all my itches hheheheh and in honour of 1989 TV!!! TW brief suicidal mentions but I try not to go into much detail, and goodnight god I need to sleeeeep wc: 4.8k
The four of them were in a cemetery, tasked to tackle three confirmed Lurkers. They were grateful it wasn't more, what with only half of them having decent Sight, but she was starting to feel bored, prodding the pebbles in the soil like some makeshift game, penned inside her iron chains near the gate. Lucy was also inside a different set of chains, but hers was inside the cemetery, where all the action was, and where she could somewhat help to look for the Sources. She had been more than ready to be the one standing nearer to the gate, but she was better at scaling walls so it was only logical to have her be the one inside in case...in case something went wrong with the gate.
Still, if George's yelling was any indication, they'd just found the second source, so it wouldn't be much longer now. They'd find the last source, pack up, and leave this dimly lit place which made her stomach churn.
"Where's the last one? I don't -" Lucy's scream tore into the night sky, cutting Lockwood off. She nearly fell over her rapier as she stumbled to her feet, hands growing clammy as she squinted through the cemetery's fog. She had never heard Lucy scream, let alone one filled with so much terror. Her mouth felt like rubber as she listened for something, anything, but was deafened by her heart pounding in her ears. Nothing. It was eerily quiet, as if none of them were there. She called out to her friends. Still nothing. She tried not to think about the last time Lockwood had been this quiet on a case. Turns out, he wasn't quite as chatty when bleeding out from a gunshot wound. Something similar must have happened now. His knees were probably buckling under himself right now, exhaling his last breath, as she stayed behind her chains like a coward. She heard a forlorn whisper - her own, even though she didn't register herself speaking.
"Lockwood. Lockwood?"
He was dead. She didn't know why, or how, but in that moment she knew for a fact that he was dead, or dying, and no one could bear to tell her. Sod the chains.
She tentatively stepped out of the circle, swallowing as her nausea increased tenfold. The crunch of the gravel beneath her boots seemed too loud for a night as quiet as this. The silence emanating solidified with every step she took, until the absence began to feel like something tangible. Her thoughts were running ahead of her, taunting her, preparing her for the worst sight imaginable. George with his head smashed upon? Lucy with her throat slashed? Lockwood, impaled on his own rapier?
She felt a prickling at the back of her neck, the kind that comes when a Visitor is too close. She lashed behind herself clumsily, rapier suddenly as bulky and unfamiliar as it was years back. She’d been in far more life-threatening situations, and yet now was the time she chose to have all her skills fly out of the window.
She felt a harsh jerk at her left elbow, and for the second time that night, she had an unpleasant swooping sensation of uncertainty twist her stomach. Fire spluttered inches from her face and she flinched, bumping into Lockwood, whose fingers had slipped from the crook of her elbow to her wrist. He looked around wildly, pulling his rapier back defensively, before she heard an unpleasant screech as her ears popped. Panic seeped out of her as she readjusted to the real world, becoming increasingly aware of his grip on her pulse. His hair was messed up and the side of his face glittered with soot, but he seemed too busy struggling with something himself to speak. He looked just as disconcerted as she felt, but the longer he observed her with trepidation in his eyes, she felt that it had more to do with her than the Lurkers.
“They...found the source?” She asked breathlessly, anything to break the silence.
“...yes.” He bit out, and she was thrown off by the venom in his voice. There was something different about him, something surlier. George gave a shout from behind and Lockwood snapped out of it, letting go of her wrist and moving away. By the time her wits had sufficiently returned, he was already finishing up some paperwork and George and Lucy had just finished loading their supplies into the cab. She tried to catch Lockwood's eye as he walked towards them, but he seemed to be aggressively avoiding her gaze. The crushing feeling was back. The cab ride was no less easy.
“Were you ghost-locked?” Lucy had picked up that something was off and she had the foresight to sit up front with the driver, while George was stuck between them. Lockwood, being Lockwood, wasn't about to wait until they reached home to start on her.
“No.” Couldn’t even see the bloody thing, she wanted to add, but she felt it wouldn’t help her case.
“Drawn out by the visitor?”
“No.” She felt the hot prick of shameful tears behind her eyes as she cradled her forehead. What had gotten into her? She had been embarrassingly paralysed for no good reason, rapier slack in her hand like an amateur trainee who couldn’t tell one end from the other.
“You of all people should know to stay within the chains. You know how little you can see. This isn’t your first Lurker - “
“I heard noises, and some screaming, and then it was dead quiet. I thought something terrible had happened.”
"What screaming?" It was harder for Lucy to follow the conversation from the front, but she still tried earnestly.
Her response died at her lips as she caught George's equally confused glance. The realisation dawned on her unpleasantly. Of course no one knew what she was talking about. There was no screaming. She should have known better, she did know better: Lurkers were notorious for causing visual and auditory hallucinations. Lockwood didn't wait for an answer, and pressed on heatedly.
“Even if she had screamed, your first instinct is to abandon your only form of protection? You’re not a newbie, L/N. So why I am I having to spell this out for you?”
“Spell what out for me?” It was a little more vicious than what the rest were accustomed to seeing, especially since very little of Lockwood riled her up this much after working with him for so long. But he hadn’t referred to her by her surname for years, and it stung.
“You could have died! You nearly did die. Never, have I ever seen a disregard for personal safety so deplorable. Really, what were you thinking?”
She rests her head against the cold window, the rattling a welcome relief to her pounding head, her exhaustion finally catching up to her, her words like loose marbles on her tongue. “I…I don’t know. I wasn’t- I was just…I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly.”
As far as misunderstandings went, theirs never went this far. Lockwood was an open book to her, and where he was stubborn she was even-tempered enough to knock some sense into him before things escalated this far. But this was new territory. She had never seen him this angry before and certainly never towards her, and she was too weak to shoulder his anger bravely. She could see the irritation behind the tension in his shoulders as he stabbed his rapier into their rapier stand near the front door, and felt her heart fold within itself even more. He jerked towards her like there was something he wanted to stay. A million words and feelings raced across his face. She opened her mouth, willing her fatigued mind to say something to patch the rift.
“I’m sorry.” She held her breath. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”
Any other day, he would have sighed, maybe held off for a second or two, before pulling her into a half hug or ruffling her hair, and dragging her to the kitchen. Because where Lockwood was smooth and charismatic, she was clunky with words and sometimes she couldn’t find the right ones. But with Lockwood, she didn’t need to. He would take one look in her eyes and pluck the thought out with devastating grace. It was her and Lockwood, Lockwood and her, forever scampering to each other’s rooms across the hallway to tell the other about their latest inane thought, until George yelled at them to quit it.
But today was not any other day.
“If you pull a stunt like this again…I don’t know if I could trust you enough to stay safe on cases.”
Her voice was an ugly croak. “…what?”
“Y/N…I cannot, in good conscience, entertain or enable you in this-this suicidal-“
“Lockwood, it was an accident. You know that, right?”
“That’s besides the-“
“You can’t possibly think I did this on purpose!”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes dropped, and she felt tears stinging her eyes again. “You...don’t...know.” She echoed him distantly, turning over each syllable on her tongue carefully, voice as hollow as his. “You don’t know…what? You don’t know…me?”
Flashes of the life they built together ran through her mind. Patiently dusting the frames that cluttered the walls. Broaching the idea of starting an agency. Standing hours in line at DEPRAC to register said agency. Going to Arif’s for the first time. Weeks of singed hair and smoky air as they relentlessly shortlisted the most cost-effective suppliers for their kits. Getting over her first breakup and watching him laugh as she swore off dating forever. Cycling indoors on a rainy afternoon just for the hell of it, while George nagged at them incessantly. Buying a cake the day their paperwork was approved and it being smeared on DEPRAC’s certificate within a minute of it being cut. Getting yelled at by Barnes for the first time. Getting injured for the first time and having him excessively fuss over the cut. Arguing about their noses while waiting for their cab in the cold after a case (he insists they’re the same, and she disagrees, partly because she isn’t sure if she could handle knowing that). Framing their first (less than complimentary) news article. Him putting the kettle on in the mornings so that it’s just the right temperature by the time she comes down to the kitchen.
Somewhere along the line, she became acutely aware that the glow she felt watching him nibble at toast in bright spirits after a long case wasn’t completely normal, but then she forgot, because it didn’t matter at the time. But now it felt like it should.
He swallowed with a resolute set to his jaw that told her he wasn’t going to change his mind anytime soon. She felt a tremor run through her hand, a sudden urge to reach out and clench the lapels of his coat, to hold on to the misty silhouette of a friend who was quickly dissolving into thin air.
And then he was gone, and she was alone, and the rift deepened and gaped its visceral jaws in front of her, threatening to swallow her whole. She numbly got dressed for bed, forgetting about the slice on her forearm until she dragged it across her sheets. It smarted, but there was a comfort in the irritation and rawness.
That night, she dreamt of bicycles rolling along on hardwood floors, the shadows the library fire cast in the grooves of Lockwood's face, and rough walls she couldn't scale. She didn't know when she started to cry.
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"So we all slept like shit. Good to know."
George walked into an uncharacteristically silent kitchen. Lucy was glumly stirring her tea, Lockwood favoured the newspaper over breakfast that morning, and she had a plate of buttered toast in front of her that she kept forgetting about. "At least the two of you had the chains for, er, most of it."
"Please. It was just as bad inside the chains. I kept hearing my teammates die over, and over, and..." She covered Lucy's hand with one of her own, gently removing her spoon.
Breakfast was a sorry affair, and the rest of the week didn't fare much better either, and things reached a breaking point on Sunday. Lockwood shut himself up in the library to get their files and invoices straightened out. There we go, another first: first morning they didn't speak a word to each other. Lucy was busy with rapier practice and George went off to the Archives, so she decided to head out for some fresh air. She came home around lunchtime. George wasn't back yet, but she couldn't hear the jets going off in the basement. She crept upstairs, her stomach twisting at the sight in Lockwood's room.
He was seated on his bed, concerningly pale, talking to Lucy in a low voice. The scene looked so intimate she felt like an intruder just watching them. She tapped on his door, and their heads jumped apart.
"Everything okay?" She tried to keep her tone light, but Lucy's grave face and Lockwood still pointedly looking away didn't help. Lucy gave him a not-so-subtle kick and he grimaced. Her face fell.
"Sorry, I...didn't mean to intrude."
"No, no, it was nothing. We were just talking about yesterday's case. Right, Lockwood?"
"I'll just go -"
"Luce, mind helping me pack the chains?" He held out a duffel bag. The duffel bag he always gave her, not Lucy, to pack the chains. To her credit, Lucy didn't seem much happier than her either, and she snatches the bag from him in a huff. As Lucy walks away, she wonders what it must be like to be loved by Anthony Lockwood. He stands up and starts to shift around his room, fiddling with odds and ends; but curiously, he hasn't asked her to leave.
"I can't - " Her words failed her, but she gritted her teeth and forced them out anyway, the hard edge in her voice giving way to a weak whisper. "I can't stand this. You can't keep freezing me out."
"I don't know what you're talking about. What I do know is that we have a job at 135 Manilla Street and if you don't feel up for it..."
She didn't finish his sentence. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She wasn't going to play into his emotionally manipulative hands like putty. Lucy awkwardly walked out of the room.
"...maybe you shouldn't come."
For the first time in nearly 18 hours, he finally looked at her, but nothing could have prepared her for the contempt he held.
"Don't be ridiculous." "Of course I'm coming."
"Actually, I was just discussing this with Lu-" A heavy boot chucked from the attic narrowly missed Lockwood's head. "I came to the decision, after talking with Luce, that maybe it's best you don't come tonight. I don't want a repeat of yesterday."
"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, because I'm coming. This is my job." Lockwood didn't seem to appreciate that in the same way she did. She was distantly aware of George calling out into the house, and Lockwood slammed the stack of books he was gathering onto his desk in response. Anger seemed to be the only emotion he could express after last night.
"Why can't you just listen for once? Why must you always be so...so difficult?"
"I'm not some possession for you to do with as you please! You yell at me, ignore me, scorn me, now lock me up just because you've decided you don't want to look at me?"
"Enough." There was a warning hidden in the tone of his voice as he started to close his door, but she wasn't done. Some fragmented fracture of Lockwood still cared about her, cared about his awful behaviour, and by God was she going to shake that out of him.
"What do I care? Keeping secrets behind locked doors is all you're good at anyway."
He froze just as the door was a fraction of an inch away from closing, a deadly quiet settling over the house. Even the rustling in the kitchen stopped.
“Look, I didn’t want to have to this.” Oh, he’s most definitely seeing red now. “But I am your employer, Miss L/N, and it is for me to decide which cases you do or do not go for.”
"So...this is just what we're going to do for the next...forever? I'll never go on a case again just because you have some weird problem with it? I'll just -" She let out a harsh bark of laughter, suddenly manic with panic. "I'll just leave then, shall I? Get out of your hair, for good?"
"I didn't say that."
“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t do this, Lockwood.” Her breath was coming in embarrassingly agitated now. Was the air thinning? Her head was spinning like she might pass out. She pushed against the door with ore force than she needed, meeting surprisingly little resistance. He was standing woodenly, eyes unseeing, and yet she felt that was the most honest he had been since the previous night. She looks at him, and for the first time, she wonders what he’s thinking about.
"Fine. Be like that, then." She wants to reach out, beg him to want her to stay, but instead she pulls herself away. She opens drawers and cabinets and pours clothes and misery into her worn suitcase. Lucy stands hopelessly in the doorway and George is whispering something furious to Lockwood, who just watches her stonily. A part of her feels stupid, as stupid as the night before, like she had lost some race in taking this long to realise she was hoping, praying, waiting for nothing. As she leaves, George searches her face and pats her shoulder awkwardly. When she reaches the front door, a movement in the shadows makes her jump.
"He's just being an arse. You know that. Just wait a few days. Please.”
Lucy. Sweet Lucy. Sweet, well-meaning Lucy who was better than the lot of them. She was going to miss her the most. She told her as much, but Lucy didn’t seem amused.
“You don't have to leave." She pulled Lucy into a hug, keeping her bitterness barely at bay.
"Oh, Luce. What else can I do?"
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She lives in a cold, cramped flat at the edge of civilisation, away from anyone's eyes. Away from Lockwood's cold, dead eyes. Some days she reads the paper, and every time she tries to force herself to read it as Lockwood would. She stays in the bed for the first week, but her savings are only so little, and eventually she starts working again. Too frail to set out as an independent agent, she signs on part-time with Fittes. She doesn't bother to get to know her teammates. Kipps is unexpectedly kind to her in ways he would rather die than acknowledge. She doesn't stick around long enough to get checked up by their medics after cases.
She returns to her dimly lit cavern and clumsily bandages her cut alone with none of his attention to detail. She drags her palm weakly across her eyes and tries to remember her friends' faces. Did Lucy's bob end at her chin, or her clavicles? How big were the lenses of George's glasses? Lockwood is a mist that colours her new life. Turns out, life is a lot more depressing without George's propensity for intellectual name-calling and Lucy's aggressively positive spirit. Sometimes she catches herself taking her tea the way Lockwood does, and she wonders where Lockwood ends and where she begins.
She goes to sleep wishing she had never met him, and wakes up with a million things to tell him. She sees the occasional silhouette wandering the street as she draws her curtains and lets her heart pretend it's him. She fumbles with her love for him, not knowing where, or how, to put it down. Day in and day out, her yearning threatens to consume her entirely.
One night, after a case at a bridge over the Thames, she runs into George and Lucy, and it's the most alive she's ever felt since she left. They want to hear about her but she brushes it off immediately: she wants to hear everything and anything about 35 Portland Row and its inhabitants.
"He's bloody awful lately. He's too quiet, and he keeps staring out of windows like he's waiting for something, even at night. George had to knock him out with cough syrup to stop him from coming tonight; he's wasting away. Of course, George occasionally forces some food down his throat and wrestles him into his bed every once in a while, but..." Lucy worries her bottom lip and she feels her stomach sink. "I don't know how much longer this can last."
"I keep telling him to reach out to you -"
"Reach out to me? Do you know where I live?"
George exchanges a look with Lucy. "Well, not exactly, but it took Lockwood all but half a day to find out. Not that he'll tell us. Coherent speech is...it's becoming a bit of a struggle for him. Either way, I have no idea what's keeping him from apologising when he's clearly so cut up about it."
After they leave, she replays the conversation in her head while waiting to be dismissed, trying to extract as much meaning as she could from their words. She thinks about the dark apartment waiting for her. An empty flat. An empty life. Before she realises, she's neck deep in the Thames, a step away from walking off the sea bed. Freedom from this pain, from these shackles which bound her to earthly woes, was deliciously close. She closes her eyes and takes the final step, water rushing in to dull her hyperactive senses.
But the peace didn't last long. Suddenly, she felt hands hauling her out of her cool sanctuary, and desperate panting coupled with water splashing. The water in her lungs hurt and she felt like a sack of potatoes. After much painful gagging and coughing, she gathered her wits. Lucy was apprehensively leaning over her, and she could hear George agitatedly pacing and muttering behind them.
"I thought you looked weird. Your eyes were too bright."
"...dead man walking. I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna rip his throat out..."
"Come home with us, Y/N. Just for tonight. Please."
She looks at Lucy, suddenly furious at her for interfering. What did she know? This wasn't some small tiff where she and Lockwood could just hug and make up. She was better off without them. She dodges Lucy's concern and outstretched hand, shakily rising to her feet.
"If it was as simple as coming home, believe me - I would have returned a long time ago."
"Y/N..."
"I don't need you looking after me! I'm fine alone. Just go home, Lucy." Shame was beginning to fester inside of her. "Just go home."
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Hell is beating at her windows when she wakes up. The rain comes down hard and fast in sheets, and for the first time, she feels grateful to have this roof, however old, over her head. She curls up at her window with a large cup of coffee, watching the heavens rage.
Suddenly, her head jerks towards the front door. She listens carefully for a moment, but only hears the wind howling through some hidden draft. And yet, her feet are walking her towards the door. She feels it in her bones the way she hasn't felt it since that fateful night months back. Something new is waiting for her.
She opens the door to a drenched man with his fist poised, ready to knock. It takes her a few blinks to reconcile the image of the man in front of her with the Lockwood she now only hazily remembered. They hadn't been exaggerating; he really did look awful. His skin was dull and stretched grotesquely over his bones, and his eyes look positively bruised. He was aggressively shivering in the rain, no umbrella in sight. She instinctively stepped back and he gratefully entered, rubbing his hands together for some warmth.
"Are you insane? What are you doing here?"
"I know what happened last night."
She subconsciously withdrew within herself. "George told you?"
"Lucy, actually. George and I haven't been on the best of terms lately, but, as of now, he's stopped speaking to me entirely."
"Ah." A small part of her flickered sympathetically. She remembered how much George meant to Lockwood, and vice versa, but the memory felt so unused, as if it were from a different life.
If he notices how dismal her flat is, he doesn't let on. In fact, he only seems interested in looking at her, drinking her in like a man starved. She allows it, but only for a while, and only because it's too big of a relief to have him standing here, larger than life, right in front of her. Starving, yes; sleep-deprived, yes; but very much alive.
"Come now, Y/N. Don't look at me like that."
"It's been a very long six months. I'll look at you however I want."
He sighs and shifts her chair closer to her and, as if inspired by some sudden bout of insanity, takes her hand, but doesn't seem to know exactly what to do with it.
"Lucy and George have been yelling at me to tell you the truth for ages now, but...I was too afraid. I was a coward. But after my earful from George last night...I realised you were just as scared as I was. Probably even more, all alone. And I'm trying to find it in me to be brave enough for the both of us." She listens cautiously, too burnt to fully believe.
He laces his fingers into her own, and brings it up to his face tenderly. "Remember how it used to be? Me and you, you and me. Just the two of us against the rest of the world." He fiddles with his pocket, and she hears a crinkling of brittle newspaper. It's their first picture in the papers. George, with significantly fewer wrinkles, is standing off to one side. Lockwood is trying and failing to look professional, which probably has to do with the way she's thrown her arms around his neck and is pressing a half-kiss to his cheekbone. She couldn't help it; she was just so proud of him. That's the photo to gets her to smile for the first time in months.
His own smile wobbles as he watches her, then slides off entirely, leaving behind an Anthony Lockwood that looks much older than his years.
"I don't know what I was thinking that day. I had a really bad string of nightmares that week where...where your lips would be blue and your pulse long gone by the time I reached. It was such a close shave, I can't help but think..." She wants to reach out and smooth the crease in his brow. "What if I were a second late?"
"But you weren't. Isn't that all that matters?"
A glimmer of a smile skimmed his face. "Yeah, well, Lucy told me as much."
"Smart girl."
"But I didn't listen. I tried - god, I tried - but I couldn't. I thought you would be safer without me. So when you started saying you'd leave, this awful seed was planted in my head, and I was angry, but also madly in love with you, and I didn't know how to say any of it."
A tear falls on their joined hands. "That evening really messed me up, Lockwood. It screwed with my head big time."
"I know." There was a rush in his voice that mirrored the same kind of rush that had flitted through her body for the past six months. "And I don't expect you to ever forgive me. I'll spend the rest of my life fixing the damage I've done. But...but...if somewhere down the road...you find it in your big heart to forgive me and my sins...I might just love you. No more secrets or locked doors; I'm done with them. Y/N L/N, I'm ready to love you wildly and freely."
First time she didn't absolutely hate him saying her last name.
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cineflections · 7 months
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You know, if there was one manga that would be adapted to live action and succeed, I never would have guessed it to be this one.
I'm ofc talking about the One Piece Live Action on Netflix
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A whole day binge right after release, I was READY, and thankfully, I was not disappointed. There are cuts and streamlining of the story, characters coming in earlier than in the manga/anime, and some of the emotional bits don't hit as hard as in the original. Still, I can feel the love the production team has of One Piece. The characters are goofy and lovable, but they are also serious and straight-faced.
One thing that I noticed throughout was the constant close up to faces and sometimes straight on, as if almost breaking the 4th wall. The very first scene with Luffy is like this, but there he DOES look into the camera directly, but the pov of the camera is revealed to be a newsbird. It's like a statement that they know this is a silly pirate romp, they know that some people will not take this seriously, but they will not do 4th wall breaks silly, but in-universe silly. Does that make sense?
I laughed at several points in the show, big and wide smile on my face and pointing at the screen several times...
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But I do wonder how much of my laugh was on the show's on merit or if I was only calling back on the the source material. At times I did feel the straw hat crew not being as iconic as in the manga/anime. The extreme reactions, the over the top noises and actions, at the same time I realize that real people generally don't act like that.
I appreciate the show runners attention to details. Putting stuff in to tease future arcs, adapting some cover stories, some of the complete unhinged behaviors of characters (Garp I'm looking at you!).
This show adapted Romance Dawn, orange town, syrup village, baratie, and arlong park.
There are so many moments that are almost scene by scene taken from the manga. Luffy in the barrel and meeting Koby. Alvida with her giant spike club. We got to see some pre-captured Zoro moments (particularly him killing a baroque works agent!), Nami being a sneak.
Then we meet the one and only clown Buggy! They hammed him up, they made him a showman and a real clown (with a real bulgy nose as well, props!). I loved Buggy. Goddamn what a show stealer. Excellent casting, his devil fruit was show cased so well and it looked good!
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Usopp's introduction is the most changed. The kids are gone and the Black Cat pirates never call in the entire crew or Jango. Instead of the fight on the slope by the beach it's instead in Kaya's house from which they cannot escape. The actor for Kuro nailing the mannerism and hand movements, altho his "teleporting" looks a bit wonky.
With Baratie we are finally introduced to Sanji! Who's British now 😆. And Mihawk's introduction tho! Badass and just so over the top and goofy. I love him so much! This is where we got the biggest change where we instead get Arlong and crew coming in smashing the place up (a tiny bit). Arlong may not be as tall as he should be but I love the practical approach instead of CGI, which means he actually feels present! All the fishmen we see are guys in costume and prosthetics!
Arlong Park felt a bit more rushed than the earlier parts, but I do think they nailed *that* scene tho.
If the bar for live action adaptation was below the ground, I would say now there's a new bar, which is on the ground 😅. I think it's a solid show but it might be my bias talking. I do have some gripes tho.
One thing that was constant in East Blue Saga was how much village people hate or are scared of pirates. I think they got the marines right, and the pirates, but they failed to really have the village people be a character in their own right. In the manga and anime the villagers are mostly a monolith who will think and act alike in situations and be part of the happenings either by watching or fighting. We got just about none of it here, except a mention in Arlong Park. They did some really good and cool world building with lots of people populating the sets in the background - but that's it, they're just extras to fill out the screen. There are ofc a few exceptions but I felt it was not enough.
I wish they had Luffy be more agile when using his gum-gum powers. Whenever he springs a pistol or a whip is stands in place, which I found boring (and they did so well with Zoro's fights!). I do think the explanation is that they decided for Luffy to be coming into his powers as we go. That we will learn with him all the things he can do (him not knowing he can blow himself up like a balloon proves this). I hope that in season 2 (please netflix!) they show the growth in his fighting!
But to end this long post. I just wanna say how much I fucking love the dude playing Mihawk. Goddamn he's so fun. MVP.
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For the straw hats, I would say that Usopp feels the closest to manga version, and Luffy feels the most distant from it. But I don't dislike this, and I think the actor for Luffy has so much potential to really make the role his own.
It will never be "just like" the manga and anime, but that's ok! It's a new adaptation (in live action) made by people you can tell loves the source material and really really tried to make it work! I respect that, and I respect this show. Please watch it on Netflix! It's a fun and silly time, just like it should be!
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