#this one isn't the most awkward in the world i believe it

[howtobeamagicalgirl]

I might have to start living my life differently. Bc this sucks.

#anntics #was looking through some old pictures on a facebook group and came across just. #dozens and dozens and dozens of pictures of me having fun and hanging out with people who I do not know and do not speak to anymore #I used to have a lot of friends who I saw infrequently but like #I did see them and we had fun and I loved them and they loved me and we were all awkward little freaks and none of us cared #now the only people I see are my girlfriend my coworkers and my family on holidays #this isn't really anyone's fault. the person who used to organize for that group to meet died and no one really stepped up #and then I made new friends in college and I had fun with them and I loved them and then we graduated. and then I moved out here with my gf #we have a few friends who we see occasionally. we're making plans to go up to see some in March #and there are tentative plans for a 5 year college reunion in May #but damn. it is so hard to keep up with people #and we all live so far away from each other. I feel like they're all on the other side of the world #even though they're all still in Kentucky for the most part #I realized that my gf and I haven't really met each other's friends from before we knew each other #and that's bc we like. don't really have any. not in a way that matters. #I introduced her to like 3 people at a party once. but that's it #idk. I'm depressed. keeping in touch is hard. I believe that it's worth it but that doesn't make it easier.

[shadesoflsk]

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has. 

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is. 

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon. 

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man. 

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better. 

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature. 

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it. 

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon. 

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging. 

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him. 

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience. 

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air. 

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.” 

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew. 

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having. 

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence. 

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy. 

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye. 

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings. 

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret. 

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk. 

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you. 

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up. 

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?” 

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time. 

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

     ⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish. 

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date. 

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror. 

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations. 

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do. 

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario. 

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope. 

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret. 

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret. 

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself. 

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry. 

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle. 

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you. 

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep. 

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose. 

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter. 

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur. 

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you. 

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior. 

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this. 

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it. 

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world. 

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess. 

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now? 

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you. 

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have. 

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted. 

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession. 

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader

[vivwritesfics]

"He Does Know"

The requested part two to "He Can't Know" It can be read as a follow on or as a stand alone.

I'm, maybe, 10000% sure that my ankle is broken so I've been sat in my bed all day trying to write this (no, my ankle definitely isn't broken. I twisted it when rather drunk last night, but it's an already bad ankle so I am in so much pain :')

Part One

When Y/N Wolff told her father about her relationship, she fully expected him to go to the Ferrari garage, bat in hand. But he didn't. Y/N was actually frightened about how calm he was.

The next race was Monaco, Charles' home race. The only people who knew about their relationship was them, and Y/N's dad. It was all a question of what to do next.

Whatever that next step was, Monaco was the perfect place to do it.

The Wednesday before the race was when Y/N arrived in Monaco. Her father hadn't booked her a room in a hotel this time. This time around, she was to stay with her boyfriend.

It was weird. When Y/N first arrived in Monaco and Charles had somebody pick her up, it was awkward. When she made her way to his apartment, it was awkward. When Charles let her in, it was awkward.

"I can't believe this is your first time in my apartment," he said as Y/N sat at the kitchen island.

When he handed her a glass of wine, Y/N gratefully accepted it. "It's really nice," she answered him, looking around. "I'm really happy to be here."

She really was, she was just having a hard time expressing it. It was weird, having their relationship so out in the open. It was weird, not hiding away in the empty corridors. It was weird, being with him and not have to hide away.

It took Y/N an hour or two to properly settle in. Charles helped speed that process along. The sat together on the couch, watching a movie that didn't much need their attention. By the end of it Y/N had a tongue down her throat and couldn't tell you what the movie was about.

"Where do we go from here?" She asked when he finally pulled away.

"What do you mean, mon ange?"

"I mean, now that my dad knows, do we announce it to the world? Do we post it on our social media? Do we just tell the grid?" She sat back beside him, laying her head on his shoulder.

Charles went red. "Well, Max already knows," he confessed.

That settled it then, they were going to tell the grid.

***

Y/N and Charles couldn't yet walk around the paddock hand in hand. They weren't yet ready to be seen by the press together. So, Y/N and Charles resorted to telling the grid individually.

As Charles went around to Red Bull and McLaren, he got congratulated and clapped on the pack. As Y/N told Mercedes and Williams, her father watched over her shoulder, glaring as people congratulated her. They couldn't hug her like they did Charles, not if they wanted to survive the wrath of her dad.

When the entire grid knew, it was like a weight had been taken off Y/N's shoulders. Not a huge weight, but it definitely helped. Now, they just had to get up the courage to tell the rest of the world.

It was funny, wasn't it? How life works out sometimes? If Y/N hadn't resented her father so much, she never would have tried to reconcile with him and she never should have met Charles.

It was all she was thinking about during the race. That, and him. It was her first time at the Monaco Grand Prix, the first time in his home country.

Watching the race was quite an experience. Y/N spent the race with her nails between her teeth, biting them out of anxiety. Monaco was maybe the most anxiety-inducing race on the calendar. As Y/N watched Charles moving around the tight corners, she was sweating.

No podium in Monaco for Charles, but that was expected. His curse, if you will. But still, Y/N celebrated. And, as she celebrated his win hidden away in the dark corner of the Mercedes garage, she realised she was ready.

She was ready to go public. She was ready to tell the world about her love for Charles Leclerc. If it only meant she got to celebrate his races with him.

Still, this was something Y/N wanted to go to her father about. Maybe even ring Susie and ask for her advice. And definitely talk to Charles about it.

Later that evening, tucked away in his home in Monaco, Y/N and Charles talked. They were wrapped in a duvet, the windows opened as they laid together, bare skin on bare skin. "You were amazing today," she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp with her nails. "I love watching you race."

"I love knowing that you're there watching me. I love that everybody on the track with me knows I have the most stunning girl out there," he replied and kissed the top of her head.

Y/N sat up and Charles sat up with her. "I just wish we could celebrate together."

He looked at her with wide eyes. "You mean, tell the world?"

She nodded.

That evening, Y/N posted to her Instagram story. It was a soft launch, one of the softest launches most F1 fans had ever seen. It was just a picture of his bed, the Ferrari hat on the end of it being a dead giveaway. 

Y/N watched as the fans went feral. It was incredible to watch. The tweets and twitter mentions were non stop, the comments on her latest Instagram post (which had nothing to do with Charles) were going crazy.

Charles was next. He pulled up his Instagram on his phone, which was already going crazy, and moved to post a picture. It was cute, one they’d taken in the hotel room during the Australian Grand Prix. Charles holding Y/N on the couch mid cuddle.

The internet went insane.

They got congratulations from their friends in comments and private messages. Even Susie left a comment on Charles’ picture. And then she sent Y/N a message, asking why she was the last to hear about. Of course Y/N had to send back an apology to her step mother, accompanied by a candid of her and Charles

Now, the world knew. It was freeing. Y/N could express her love without fear. There was no telling what her father would do when she swapped her Mercedes hat for a Ferrari one.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc smut

[persevereforahappyending]

This isn't Your Fault

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: “Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 3.3k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

“Hey, babe,” you answered the phone cheerfully. “How was the party?” Tara had begged you to go to the frat party, but you declined. As much as you loved the girl, there was no way in hell she was going to get you to go to a frat party. You already hated parties and socializing in general. There was nothing in the world that could convince you to go to something that involved both, especially when all the people involved would be drinking.

“Ugh,” Tara groaned. “It was going great until Sam showed up and tased someone in the balls.”

“I’m sorry?” you weren’t sure you heard her right, it sounded like she said her sister tased someone in the balls. You opened a cabinet, grabbing a glass.

“There was some drunk frat douche who may have been trying to get me to come upstairs with him.”

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You knew Tara was smiling into her phone just from the way her voice softened, it brought a smile to your face as well.

Tara loved when someone cared about her. She loved when someone cared enough to be there for her and protect her. You knew that, just from the way her eyes always lit up when you’d check in or instantly come over if she was having a bad day. You saw it in the way despite wanting freedom from her sister, she still respected her and wanted her approval. You and Tara had been dating for over six months now and she still refused to introduce you to her sister. You had met her friends but none of them knew you guys were dating. You understood, truly, after what they had all been through you got that they were hesitant to trust strangers. Even though she said she was afraid of how Sam would react, and that she’d scare you off you knew the real reason Tara didn’t want to introduce you yet was because she was afraid Sam wouldn’t approve of you.

You believed your relationship with Tara was stronger than that, that Tara wouldn’t break up with you just because her sister or friends didn’t like you. You knew it would make things difficult though. If they didn’t like you, or really if Sam didn’t like you, you knew Tara would be hurt. She’d be torn between being with you and knowing her sister didn’t approve. Which is why until Tara was ready, you were more than happy to wait to officially meet Sam.

“Chad stopped the guy, getting into a fight in the process,” Tara continued.

You smiled at that; you knew there was always a reason you liked Chad. “Good,” you said instead.

“Then Sam showed up and the tasing happened,” she let out a long sigh. “I just want a normal life.”

“I know,” you whispered sympathetically. “You know she just wants to keep you safe though, right?”

Tara groaned, causing you to laugh. “I know,” she mumbled. “This is just the exact reason why I won’t introduce you.” You could imagine Tara throwing up her hands as she said that. “She wants me to open up and share with her but then when I try to have a life outside of the friend group, she tases someone!”

“Whenever you decide to introduce me, I’m sure it will go fine.” You reached above the island, grabbing one of the pans hanging and set it on the stove. “I’m sure I won’t get tased.” You walked around the island, moving to grab the food you intended to have for dinner before pausing in your tracks. “Right?” you asked hesitantly with an awkward chuckle before you got to moving again.

“Maybe,” Tara mumbled. Your steps paused again, you wanted to meet the most important person in Tara’s life, but Tara was making it incredibly difficult for you to not be terrified of her sister. “Just stand behind me when that eventual meeting happens.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. You were sure it would go fine. You were sure that Sam would probably glare at you and maybe judge you right away, assuming you were out to get them or something. You hoped though that eventually Sam would warm up to you. You were sure Sam could be scary, you’d seen her staring down anyone who so much glanced at her wrong when she followed Tara somewhere, she was certainly one intimidating woman. You knew she was really just incredibly protective over her little sister, a bit overprotective if you asked Tara.

Her friends weren’t much different, at least Mindy and Chad, the ones who survived Woodsboro with them. You had met them in casual settings, at parties, in the library, and even shared a class with Mindy. They were all a tight knit group, they talked with others but letting someone in their friend group was a process apparently. When you eventually officially met them, you were sure you’d be interrogated by Mindy and Chad would probably be like Sam, glaring at you from across the room. Out of the three of them Tara said Mindy was the calmer more reasonable one, but she could get a little intense when she was going over a suspect list or accusing people of murders.

Mindy was the one you were the least worried about. You actually had a couple classes with Anika and worked together on a few papers. You still hadn’t met Mindy enough to walk up and talk to her, but she would give you a nod if she saw you and she was always nice when she came to pick Anika up from a study session. She would also usually squint at you, watching you for anything suspicious but she did that with most people, so you didn’t take it personally.

“My fearless protector,” you said softly.

“Shut up,” Tara said.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Tara was short and everyone underestimated her. The truth was she had just as much fight in her as her sister. Whenever you were out if someone made a rude comment or God forbid hit on you, Tara would shoot them a furious glare that would make anyone on the receiving end wish they were dead. There was even one time when you were out and someone recognized Tara, then the moron decided to make a comment about Sam, and you were lucky to pull Tara out of there before the police could be called. She about launched herself over the table, arms already out and ready to strangle the man.

Your laughter quickly ended when you heard a creak. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t take the phone away from your ear as you glanced down the hall. You didn’t see anyone, and the front door was still closed. You were the only one home, your parents being out of town for the week. You swore you heard the floor creak though. Every fiber of your body told you to not go down the hall, the little alarm going off in your head screaming that something wasn’t right.

“You, okay?” Tara asked. You could hear the concern in her voice.

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly. You cleared your throat saying, “Yeah,” again more convincingly. “So, what’s planned for the rest of the night?” you decided to change the subject.

“Sleep,” Tara mumbled. “I’m already starting to feel this hangover. Can I come over tomorrow?”

“Is that a good idea?” You swung around the island, resting your hand on the refrigerator door. “I doubt Sam will want you out of her sight after tonight.”

“Fuck what she wants. I miss you,” she whined.

You glanced up from the floor, catching the reflection of a white mask in the window as you opened the fridge door. You swallowed, preparing yourself for what was about to happen.

“Tara,” you said, the calmness of your voice surprising you. “This isn’t you fault.”

“What?” she asked, confused.

You slammed the refrigerator door closed, spinning around to face your attacker just as he swung his knife, the metal blade clashing against the steel fridge door. You ran towards the stove, letting your phone clatter onto the island as you empty your hands to grab the pan you had intended to use to cook dinner.

You brought the pan up just as Ghostface brought his knife down towards you. The sound of metal against metal filling the air. You moved the pan, blocking every slash and every stab. At one point when he went to stab you instead of blocking you brought the pan up, swinging it down hard on his hand that held the knife. He groaned, dropping the knife in the process. You brought the pan back up, whacking him across the face. He stumbled to the side, catching himself on the counter. You brought the pan down on his head again. While he was down on his knees you turned and ran, reaching over the island to grab your phone again.

You ran down the hall, sliding into the front door, after taking the turn a little too tight. You had your hand on the doorknob when you saw Ghostface already on his feet again, making his way to you. You changed course, running up the stairs to your room instead. You heard the knife impale the front door, cracking the wood as it was yanked out.

You reached your room, slamming the door behind you, knowing it would only buy you a few extra seconds. You jumped on your bed, rolling over the other side as gracefully as you could. You grabbed the baseball bat you always had resting against the wall by your bedside, getting in a swinging position as you stared down the door, waiting for Ghostface to burst through.

You held the phone in your hand, the same one that was gripping the bat. You vaguely heard Tara’s voice coming through the speaker, you knew she must be going out of her mind not knowing what was happening. You wanted to answer her, tell her Ghostface was here and to get out of town as fast as she could. You couldn’t release your grip on the bat though, your eyes were glued to your bedroom door.

The bedroom door shuddered as if someone was pounding on it. With each shake you stepped back, bumping into the wall behind you. You tightened your grip on the bat, your knuckles turning white. When suddenly the shuddering stopped. You held your breath as the doorknob slowly turned, the door squeaking open. Standing in the doorway was Ghostface, knife shining at his side. He tilted his head at you as he stepped into your room, crossing over the invisible threshold.

You and Ghostface watched each other, waiting for the other to make their move. It was so quiet you could swear you heard your own heart beating. In the blink of an eye Ghostface surged forward, launching himself over the bed, he didn’t make it over your bed in one jump though. His feet got caught up in the blankets causing him to stumble down.

You took the opportunity to run around the side of the bed, narrowly missing a swipe of Ghostface’s knife as he swung out at you. You heard a light thud then realized you had a better grip on your bat, you had dropped your phone. You slid to a stop just as you hit the stairs, gripping the railing so you didn’t go flying down them. You quickly recovered, rushing down the steps as quick as possible. Part of you wanted to go back for your phone but you knew doing so would only end in your death.

You got to the front door, turning the knob to unlock it then flung the door open. Ghostface stomped down the steps, jumping when he was halfway, slamming his body into the open door, effectively closing it again. You stumbled back, barely getting out of the way of the door about to crush your arm.

Ghostface pushed himself off the door with a grunt, jumping right at you. He knocked you to the ground, the force of his tackle causing you to let go of your bat.

You looked at your bat, rolling just out of reach. You looked back up, seeing Ghostface hovering over you. He gripped his knife in his right hand, swiftly bringing it down towards your chest.

You caught his wrist just as the knife touched your shirt, pushing back against him so it was now hovering a few inches from your chest. He brought his other hand over, putting more weight on the hand with the knife. It inched closer and closer to your chest. You stared up at the white mask, into the hollow black eyes. You knew there was a person behind the mask, but you couldn’t make out any features.

You kicked your legs, trying to get any leverage on him. You brought your knee up, knowing for sure he was a he by the way he groaned, loosening his grip on the knife. You knocked the knife out of his hand, rolling out from under him in the processes.

He moved slowly, still clearly in pain from your hit. He reached over, stretching out his hand towards his knife. You were closer, reaching up and smacking it across the floor.

You were on your knees about to pull yourself up the rest of the way when you looked up seeing Ghostface standing above you, he had recovered before you. He sent three swift kicks to your stomach, knocking the breath out of you. You rolled over onto your back, looking up at him as you gasped for breath.

You rolled over again, trying to bring yourself back to your feet, there was no way you were going down without a fight. Your hands were spread out, face down on the floor to help push you up. Ghostface walked closer to you, the only thing you saw were his boots stopping before you.

Ghostface lifted his leg high, bringing his heavy combat boot down onto your hand. He gave his boot a final twist, allowing you to hear the crunch of your bones before he took his foot away. You rolled back onto your back, clutching your hand as you screamed in pain. Tears were already streaming down your face as you tried to regain control of your breathing.

Ghostface walked around you, moving towards his knife. You pressed your injured hand to your chest, reaching out towards your bat with the other hand. Ghostface forgot about his knife, kneeling down in front of you, tilting his head as he watched you struggle trying to reach the bat. He picked the bat up just as your fingertips grazed the handle.

He stood above you, tilting his head as he shook the bat back and forth in a taunting manor before raising it above his head.

“No!” you screamed right before Ghostface brought the bat down onto your ribs.

He brought the bat down again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

The force of his swings never letting up. You struggled to catch your breath. Gasping for air as you took short shallow breaths, you couldn’t take a deep breath.

There was what sounded like tires screeching outside. Through bleary vision you could see Ghostface look up and out the window before dropping your bat with a clang and bolting towards the backdoor.

“Y/N!” someone shouted. You blinked your eyes slowly, your eyelids becoming heavy.

The next thing you were aware of was a warm pressure on your shoulder. You turned your head to see a hand resting on your shoulder. Your eyes trailed from the hand, up an arm, and to a face, your girlfriends face, Tara’s face. You saw blurry figures beside her that you couldn’t make out. You could only stare into Tara’s worried eyes. She seemed to be sobbing, her mouth was moving but you couldn’t hear the words coming out before your eyes slowly shut, everything going black.

When you opened your eyes again you were in a dark room, panic instantly shot through you. You tried to sit up, instantly hissing in pain. You sucked in a breath but once again, pained shot through you. You dropped your head back down, taking small breaths. It didn’t feel like you were on the hard wood floor anymore, whatever was behind your head felt soft and fluffy. Your eyes darted all around the room, not recognizing your surroundings, the walls were bare and basic, you didn’t know where you were.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Tara whispered softly, her tear-stained face appearing above you. “You’re okay,” she gripped your hand tightly with her own, brushing your hair out of your face with her other hand. “You’re in the hospital.”

“Wh-what are you doing here?” you rasped out, your dry mouth the least of your worries because each word caused pain to shoot through you.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” You caught movement out of the side of your eye, seeing someone else had been in the room and was slipping out to give you and Tara privacy. You didn’t get a good visual and you’d only ever seen pictures Tara showed you, but it almost looked like Sam.

“You-you need to get out of town.” You gritted your teeth, trying to swallow the pain. “You need to get somewhere safe.”

“No, no, I’m not leaving you,” she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe you said that. “I’m not leaving you,” she repeated, leaving you no more room to argue.

Your eyes drifted to your hand not intertwined with Tara’s, it was wrapped in a cast. The cast covered your entire hand, going up all your fingers, leaving only your pointer one free, then it stretched down just past your wrist so you couldn’t bend it. The only thought that went through your mind oddly was that you were just glad it hadn’t been your dominant hand.

You looked back up at Tara, noticing she was staring at your injured hand as well. “How are you feeling?” she asked, not able to peel her eyes away from the cast.

“If I sit completely still and don’t breathe then the pain is only agonizing,” you answered. “Instead of excruciating.”

“I’m sorry,” Tara whispered, tears already beginning to fill her eyes.

“This wasn’t your fault,” you tried to lean up, instantly wincing in pain as you slowly lowered yourself back down again. “Please don’t cry.” You untangled your hand from hers, reaching up to brush the few stray tears that had begun to fall. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“If it wasn’t for me, you never would have been targeted,” her voice cracked.

You shook your head. “No, no, it’s not your fault a psycho wants to hurt you. This isn’t on you. I love you.” You tilted her chin until she was looking you in the eye. “I love you,” you whispered again.

“I love you too,” she leaned forward, resting her forehead against yours, a few of her tears dripping down onto you.

“This was a hell of a way to meet your sister,” you said, trying to break the tension.

Tara leaned back into her chair, wrapping her hand in yours again. “And you still haven’t even officially met yet,” she chuckled.

“Damn,” you sighed. “I was hoping unconscious me had already done all the work.”

“At least she knows you aren’t potentially a Ghostface,” Tara joked.

You laughed, instantly wincing in pain. “Don’t joke.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled down at you. “She does want to officially meet you though.”

“Can’t wait,” you whispered. You closed your eyes as Tara stroked her fingers through your hair, allowing you to peacefully to drift off to sleep.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter imagine #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #this isn't your fault

[whateveriwant]

hi!! i really love your 141 headcannons, can i ask for the 141 with a exotic animal vet/zoologist s/o? tysm!!! 🤍

Soap

He thinks you are the coolest person to walk the planet

Seriously, with the way he looks at you sometimes, you swear it's like you're a superhero or something

Any chance he can get to brag about you to his friends, family, or even total strangers, he's taking it. And when he does start to talk, they better settle in for a while because he is not shutting up anytime soon

One of his favorite things about you is what he calls your “mental encyclopedia” of animals. It can be very helpful to refer to, especially when he's trying to describe exotic animals he's come across in the field

“What d’ye call those awkward, pine cone lookin’ lads?” he asks from the room over. You take a moment to think before shouting out your answer, a second later hearing the keys of his laptop clicking as he confirms for himself. “Pangolin! Yes! Tha’s the wee devil who stole my socks!”

Ghost

While he doesn't like to talk shop when it comes to his job, he could spend hours listening to you talk about yours

It's become a staple of your routine where every time you come home from work, he's there asking how your day went (and, get this, he's genuinely interested in your response)

Because he's usually pretty silent as he listens to you recount your day, sometimes you think he isn't even paying attention to you at all

But of course, just as soon as you begin to doubt him, he'll hit you with something that shows how attentive he's been all along

“How's Mona fairin’ by the way?” he asks one night in the middle of making dinner. Mona? The red panda who had a cough the other month? She's all well again, you tell him, surprised he remembered that. If he notices your shock, he doesn't say anything; he just gives a satisfied hum in response and continues cooking

Price

Because his job is so integral to who he is as a person, he loves having a partner who's also just as dedicated to their work as he is

He'll stop at nothing when it comes to supporting you and your dreams, a big one he knows is to travel the world one day. He plans to make that dream come true once he retires, but until then, he'll have to settle for bringing the world to you

Thus, every time he comes home from deployment, he's always bearing souvenirs – many of them featuring animals puns because he knows they're your favorite

It started as a joke at first when he saw a silly magnet he just couldn't pass up. But now it's become a proper tradition between you two, so every time he leaves, you're expecting to add another item to your collection once he returns

His favorite is a toss up between your ‘Toucan do it!’ inspirational poster and your matching ‘I'm with jackass’ / ‘I'm jackass’ donkey shirts

Gaz

He loves animals just as much as you do (if not more, honestly)

Literally on your first date together when you told him what you do for a living, he was about ready to drop down on one knee and pop the question right then and there

If it's a zoo or perhaps a sanctuary that you work at, you best believe you'll find him visiting you at every available opportunity he has

He sees you forgot your lunch at home? Oh no, he better bring it to you before you starve! He's running a few errands in the neighborhood? Hmm, might as well stop by and see his boo at work! (and, well, since he's already here, he might as well check out the new reptile exhibit you've been mentioning too)

Honestly, with just how frequently you're always bumping into him at work, you're convinced that most of the time he's not even there to see you

#wiw asks #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #john mactavish #simon riley #john price #kyle garrick #tf 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #modern warfare 2

[strawberriescherrieskiwi]

Interlocked

Anon requests:

Good luck with exams!!! Friends to lovers with Timmy or exes to lovers again. Sharing body heat in a cabin after being caught in a storm.

Wordcount: 2.3K+

Masterlist

Description: Going on a ski trip with your ex isn't weird. Not when you and Timmy are still incredibly close. And it is definitely not weird to get creative to keep from freezing to death.

A/N: Thank you for the well wishes on my exams. And for the request. I went back and forth with this for a few days. The faking conversation is heavily inspired by Elaine and Jerry from Seinfeld. And a conversation they had about the same topic, which led me to make them exes in this fic.

Warning: Exes to lovers. Smut, fluff.slight breeding kink if you squint.

“Wait wait wait,” Timmy said glancing over at you in shock. “You faked with me?” He asked in disbelief.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line to hide your smile. “Yup,” you said, bobbing your head.

“No. You faked with me?” He couldn’t believe it.

You laughed. “Yes. I faked it with you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you laughed picking up your hot chocolate and taking a sip trying not to appear smug.

Your friends sitting across the table were all watching you two like you were the most interesting things in the world. You, Timmy, and a few of your friends had an annual Ski trip in the French Alps.  It was a long journey to your cabins and after a day of skiing, you were all having dinner and hot drinks at a diner.

Somehow the conversation got on the topic of people faking it in bed. With the men arguing that it is easier for women to fake it and Timmy proudly stating that no one has ever faked it with him. Until you had to interject with a well…

“We dated for two years. Did you... Did you fake it all the time?” He asked.

“No, of course not. If I was faking all the time, we wouldn’t have dated for 2 years.” Your two-year relationship was lovely. You loved Timmy and even talked about marriage and were briefly engaged. Until your loving relationship sort of started to feel like a chore.

You weren’t meeting up, or having sex because it felt like you needed to and not that you wanted to. You could feel yourself falling out of love and each day desperate to hold onto it. Hold on to each other. It got to the point where you were starting to resent him. That’s when you two sat down, had a long conversation, and called it quits.

You two still remained close friends. And while it was awkward for a while, you both had moved on and dated other people since then. Timmy only recently got out of a year-long relationship with a model, and you’ve been single for 6 months because your boyfriend couldn’t handle you still close friend with an ex.

“It was just towards the end of our relationship, right?” He asked, his eyes burning a hole in the side of your face.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” you chuckled.

He scoffed shaking his head and looking away. “You faked it. I can’t believe it. The whole shebang. The moaning, panting, tightening? All fake?”

“You weren't the only actor in our relationship, huh?” You teased.

Timmy's cheeks lit up and he grabbed his drink, grumbling to himself. You laughed, wrapping your arms around his forearm.

“If it makes you feel better, you are also the only guy I didn’t have to fake it with.” He glanced over at you.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay. That makes me feel a bit better.” Timmy said sitting up straight.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his happiness. You truly did love him. Even after the breakup and the insanity, he brought to your life sometimes. “Hopefully, you’ve gotten better since we last slept together.” You added to just tease him more.

His eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know if you could tell the difference?” You counted, leaning closer to him. So close that his breath hit your face.

“Okay, you two. Thanks for the show, but keep it PG,” one of your friends teased. You both rolled your eyes and moved away from each other and finished your food.

“You guys are just jealous of our friendship,” Timmy said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

After eating you all climbed back into the cars and made your way back to the cabins you all rented.

“Okay, we are staying two to a cabin. Couples have a cabin to themselves and the rest of us are playing a game to see who stays with who.” You said as you all stood in the snow.

“What are we playing this year? Last year was a snowball fight with we all know you cheated at,” Timmy pointed out.

“Says the man that didn’t play. You had a girlfriend remember?” Timmy shrugged and snuggled closer into his coat.

“We will play rock, paper, scissors. It’s too cold and too late to do anything else.”

Everyone nodded and gathered around to play. You were all shivering and were ready to just go to bed. After a few rounds, everyone was paired up leaving you to room with Timmy. Grabbing your bags, you both said goodnight to the rest of your friends and walked into the cabin.

“Holy shit it’s cold in here,” you complained dropping your bags and going to the fireplace.

“How are we looking on wood?” He asked coming up behind you.

You sighed. “We should have come to the cabins earlier and made sure they were fully stocked with Wood. We have a few logs. Hopefully, it will make it through the night,” you said tossing a few into the fireplace and then grabbing a match.

“We will get some first thing in the morning. Don’t worry. The cabin has heating, and I brought extra blankets. I know you are always cold,” he stated.

Once the fire was going you stood up. “You didn’t know we were room together,” you commented.

“Yeah, but I heard last year you were cold in your cabin.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Timmy. You can take the bigger bedroom. I know that’s what you are after.”

Timmy playfully rolled his eyes. “You caught me. And thanks,” he said picking up his bag and dashing to the biggest room.  You laughed shaking your head then grabbed your own bag and headed to your room. "See you in the morning," he shouted

"Good night," you shouted back.

You woke around 2 am freezing. Your teeth were chattering, and you felt like you were freezing from the inside out. Slowly, wrapping a blanket around your shoulder you made your way to the main room to see Timmy standing in front of the thermostat.

You stepped on a creaking floorboard, and he looked over at you. “Shit. Are you cold?” He said running over to your side and wrapping his blanket around you and rubbing your shoulders.

You nodded leaning into him. “What is the temperature on?”

He frowned. “The power is out.”

“What?” You asked pulling back to look at him. “What’s going on.”

“Turns out while we slept there was a small avalanche. We are snowed in.”

“Fucking hell? Really?” You said moving out of his arms and walking over to the window and seeing the snow piled up outside.

“Don’t panic, I talked to someone at the lodge, and they will be sending someone over as soon as they can. They are sending people out to the furthest cabins first, but it has to be after the storm is over.

“Have you talked to everyone else? Are they okay?” You asked. Moving to the fireplace and sitting down. You shivered and Timmy quickly moved to your side.

“No. I lost service after that, but I am sure they are fine. We are the ones closest to the mountain. We’ve been snowed in before it won’t be so bad,” he assured you.

“We had more firewood then.” You reminded him.

Wrapping his arms around you Timmy pulled you close to him and wrapped the two blankets around you both. “I got you, don’t worry,” he said rubbing your arms and back. You shudder and lean closer to him, snuggling into his arms.

You two sat in silence for a while and watched the fire. You were still cold but were warmer now that you were in his arms. For a moment, you thought you would be able to fall asleep and then the fire went out.

“Shit,” Timmy said grabbing up and trying to relight the fire. He tried over and over and you whimpered slightly. And Timmy glanced back at you before trying again. He finally got a small spark and blew softly on the fire and tossed in the last firewood.

He moved back to you and pulled you into his lap. “Mon Amour. I got you. I got you,” he repeated. You shook and shivered against his chest and his hold tightened on you. Neither of you even noticed the term of endearment slipping.

After a few minutes of you shaking, Timmy shook his head. “Okay, undress.” He said. “I know it might be weird, but you’re cold and I’m cold. Body heat will help.”

You flushed but Timmy didn’t notice as he started to pull his own clothes off. It’s been over 3 years since you saw him completely naked, and you couldn’t help but think about all the times his body was pressed against yours.

“You’re staring. Thinking about when you faked it?” He teased looking you in the eye as his hands lingered on his boxes. “Shall I remove these too?”

“Shut up,” you said standing and removing your clothes. You stared Timmy in the eyes as you took off your bra and tossed it at him. His eyes widened and he shamelessly started at your chest.

“You know,” he said, moving closer. “Skin-to-skin is good for body heat. But there is another way, skin to skin, that will also warm us up,” his hands rested on your waist and his eyes met yours.

They were half-closed and filled with lush and desire. You shivered this time but not from the cold. “Timmy… is that really a good idea,” you said but moved closer to him pressing your chest together.

“Breaking up wasn’t a good idea,” he said shocking you.

“You couldn’t tell me that 3 years ago?” You teased.

“You couldn’t tell me you were faking back them?” He shot back.

Chuckling you grabbed the back of his head and pulled his face closer to yours. “Show me you’ve gotten better” Your lips ghosted over Timmy’s.

Timmy's lips came crashing down on yours and he kissed you like a man starving. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and his hand between your already slick thighs. You moaned letting him guide you both to the ground. You, on your back with him hovering over you.

“I missed you,” he said softly pulling back from your lips.

“I missed you,” you replied, pushing his boxes off his body. Timmy did the same with your underwear and you laid there bare in front of each other for the first time in years.

“Let me warm you up. Let me take care of you,” he begged. You spread your legs more kissing his lips.

“Please Timmy,” you said into his mouth. Timmy grabbed his cock and pressed it against your dripping entrance. He pulled back to watch his cock enter you slowly. You both moaned. Timmy pushed in more until his hips were flushed against yours.

Timmy bit your collarbone and you moaned louder. “I forgot how tight you are,” he said. “Feels like when we first slept together.”

You whined. You two were each other first. You pulled his hair and met his lips in a tender kiss. Timmy started to move them. Pulling his cock almost completely out of you before slamming back into you.

His hands reached for yours and grasped them tightly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He was slow as he thrust in and out of you with a steady rhythm. Your bodies were pressed together and the heat between you two warmed you both to your cores.

Timmy’s moans and your little gasp each time he pressed against your sweet spot filled the cabin. Your hands stayed tightly together. You tilted your hips and his cock slide deeper inside of you. 

“Fuck, I’m going to fucking blow my load,” He growled squeezing your hands as he rocked his hips faster. You moaned tightening around his cock.

“Make me cum, Timmy. Harder.” You groaned. Closing your eyes, you pressed your chest against his. Timmy let go of one of your hips and started fucking into you faster and harder.

Your skin flushed and you both grew sweaty, and you lost yourself in each other. His fast pace had your eyes rolling in the back of your head as you came around your cock. But Timmy didn’t stop. Instead, his fingers moved further down and joined his cock inside of you.

You mewl at the stretch and your squirted all over his cock. His name leaving your mouth like a prayer. Timmy smirked and looked down at his cock fucking your cunt. “Squirting? I don’t think you could fake that.”

You laughed slightly, shaking in his hold. “Just cum in me, please. I need it.”

“Yeah, need my cum. Fuck. Yeah, I’ll come inside of you. Fucking make a mess inside of you. Maybe fuck a baby inside of you. Do you want that? Want my baby inside of you?” His words had you tightening around his cock and Timmy cursed before coming.

You flipped him over, riding his cock as he came. You pinned his hands above his head, and you rotate your hips fucking his cum inside of you. You were close to a second orgasm, and you looked down at Timmy to see him staring at you as if you were a goddess.

“I love you.” He softly.

Your hips paused and you stared at him. “Still?” You asked leaning closer.

“I never stopped. I wanted you back the moment we broke up. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you kissed him and started moving your hips again. Your thighs trembled and you rode him faster, biting his lower lip and this time exploring his mouth with your tongue. Timmy moaned into your mouth and thrust upwards into you.

You came together moaning into each other mouth, your hands still interlocked. You slowly stopped moving your hips and broke the kiss lying on his chest. You both were breathing heavily. You shivered as the cold registered again and Timmy was quick to wrap one of the blankets around you both.

“I meant what I said,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“I did too.”

“So can we give us another try?” He asked hopefully.

You nodded, kissing his chest. “I would like nothing more.”

Taglist.

@wandasforyou

@mel-vaz

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

@s-we-e-t-t-ea

@robertpattins0nswh0re

@valencia-rou

#timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee fanfic #timothee chalamet smut #timmy smut #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee chalamet imagine

[thavron]

So I think I've cracked this moment.

So this moment has bothered me. I've seen several people say this is Crowley breaking up with Aziraphale, but I think it has a different meaning. I think he's saying, "I understand."

Hear me out.

It was actually listening to the song Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy that caused me to have a little epiphany. I love how it's juxtaposed over Crowley rushing back to Aziraphale, indicating that he is the Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, but there is more to it.

That song was released in 1976, which is a time when being gay or being queer of any kind was deeply frowned upon. Though laws in the UK banning same sex relationships had been lifted by this time, for consenting adults over the age of 21. Freddie explicitly coming out at this time was something that could have ended his career. Freddie danced with the media on this one, hinted but was never forthright and kept his romantic life largely under wraps. This is something that queer people did in general and had to do well into the 90s. They flirted in code, they romanced behind closed doors. They kept their love out of sight.

Much like our Ineffable Husbands.

Editing to add- that the reason this triggered something for me, is that despite the secrecy, Freddie Mercury got up on stage and sang a song about a man taking another man out on a date at the Ritz. Everyone knew. Just no one knew knew. And it wasn't enough to end his career. Much like our Ineffable Husbands. Everyone knows, including them. Just no one says a thing about it.

Which brings me back to A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square.

This song is about one magical night. A couple meet, fall in love, feel the magic of their romance, and then as the sun comes up they go home. It is something like a dream that has to be let go with the harsh light of day. But there is hope, because sometimes they can hear the echo of the nightingale. A promise perhaps to meet again.

So I think it is widely assumed that there is more to the 1941 flashback. I tend to concur. I think we will see the origin of why this song is important to them. I suspect the song is about them. They have one magical night, where they are both brave and express their love for each other. But then the sun comes up and they realise that they have to go back to their lives. I think they will acknowledge that the incident with the zombies was a close call, and they need to cool off and stay away from each other. Slow down.

So 1967 is the first time they have seen each other since. They both know how they feel, they're just waiting for the right time. They shouldn't have met at all, except Aziraphale wants to give Crowley the holy water. I think that explains the awkwardness but also their softness toward each other. It's a meeting of lovers, but the time isn't right just yet. No nightingales are singing. That's what Aziraphale means by "You go too fast for me." Not yet, it's too soon. We're still under suspicion.

So the end of season one, the world is not over and our ineffable husbands are free. What do they do? They go for date at the Ritz. You can not tell me this is not a date. Sorry, don't believe you. "The Ritz is the most romantic hotel in the world." It's like their whole selling point. It's why it pops up in the lyrics of Berkley Square, and also in the lyrics of Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy. It's the place where magic happens. And for me, the playing of the song, and the reference from God herself, it's saying the time is right. They can finally be together again. This is their moment.

So Season Two. I've read reviews of season two where people liken it to fanfiction. Neil calls it is a bridge season. I think it's the dream. Not actually a dream, I don't think Neil is that unoriginal. But in the song they liken that one magical night to a dream. It's a fantasy that they get to live until the sun comes up. They get to live their dream for four years. They are together and they are in love but they are still living in secret. They still don't acknowledge it. They're still holding back. One of the themes in this series is timing is everything. Maggie and Nina's relationship doesn't work because timing. The magic trick worked the time it mattered. Timing is important, and the ineffable husbands are bad at it. They should have thrown themselves into this but they were too cautious and they missed their chance.

I think this conversation is when Crowley realises. Not that he is love with Aziraphale, that was established in 1941. But that everyone knows anyway. There is no reason to hide. No one cares that they're an item. Aziraphale has a similar epiphany after his chat with Shax. So they both decide to move the relationship along, but damn do they have bad timing.

Now I am as confused and heart broken as anyone about the final fifteen. And I am certain that there is something that we are not seeing, a trick that we've missed. There are six minutes unaccounted for. Neil says its a continuity error, but he's demon, he lies.

So here is what I think, and why this line "that's the point, no nightingales" is important. At some point during that conversation Crowley catches on. Whether they have a moment of stopped time, or the fact that Aziraphale is acting so utterly unhinged, there is something that happens that we don't see and it clues him in. He is hurt and angry yes, but he understands. What he is understanding is that the dawn came stealing up, and that the interlude is over. The nightingales stopped singing, and they have to go back to work. He gets it and that's how he lets Aziraphale know.

"You're an idiot, we could have been us." He doesn't like the plan, whatever it is. He thinks running would have been preferable, but he is resigned to it.

Then that kiss. One last goodbye just in case the world ends? Desperate longing and years of pent up frustration? I don't think the trick is here. I think this is misdirection. We're all looking at the kiss, we missed the coded message that came right before. I think "No nightingales" may also suggest that this isn't the kiss. The romantic kiss will come later, when the nightingales sing again. And they will, of that I'm certain now.

The song playing in the car, a message from Aziraphale or from the Bentley reminding him to have hope. Two things we know about Crowley. He is an optimist. He loves to rescue his angel. We also know that he is the trusted stooge with the steady hand. Aziraphale will perform the theatrics, he will do the rest. The fact that he waited and didn't just storm off like he did when he was rejected in series 1 tells Aziraphale that he is still here. He's still in this.

That's my interpretation anyway.

#good omens #good omens meta #yup i have way too much time on my hands #and i hate unhappy endings #and will live in denial about this

[postersofleon]

Honey Has Value

In Leon's first mission, everyone warned him about the merchants that come every once in a while during dangerous situations. Nobody knows them. But everyone trusts them enough. Even Krauser, who was very sensitive in whom to trust with his weaponry. The merchants are the most chaotic neutral people who would sell to any person who had enough gold or anything in value. During one of his missions, Leon finally saw one of the merchants.

content: smut

notes: pre resident evil four; afab fem!reader; he forgot to socialize thanks to working in the military; reader is pretty femme by wearing a black dress; sexual frustrations coming from leon; small mentions of rotting flesh, leon is an awkward flirt; guys, even though i write smut, i hate booktok, does that make sense or i'm giltching in the system. smallish smut, little story.

taglist: @argreion

Leon could believe in Umbrella's cruel experiments. He had seen these monsters who are kindly called bioweapons, and even though Leon isn't forced to fight against them. He sometimes saw the creatures they turned into, and that was enough for a young rookie cop to see. He then had to mistrust his own government for wanting to harm a young child. Leon panicked and immediately a blackmail was tied around his throat.

A perfect noose around him. A traumatized man can't go back to his old life. Leon had to help a girl he barely saw in the tragedy of Raccoon City.

All because of his stupid want to help people. He was sinking in this damn hole depression, and he wasn't even allowed to go to therapy. When he was excited to talk to Claire, she wasn't there because she was still searching her missing brother.

Leon was alone. Leon didn't even have time with Sherry.

He believed in all of these faults of the world. It was a nasty cruel world that could barely be saved. Leon didn't even save Sherry. That was thanks to Claire. In that night, he didn't save anyone, and he trusted a bad person who fell to her death. Every inch of Leon's body knew guilt, the disappointment of the world, and bioweapons.

But why couldn't Leon didn't believe in this random ass Merchant? Merchants sounded like scumbags and fake to the bone yet everyone in his section of soldiers swore up and down that they are real and good enough.

They only appear in missions. The government doesn't pay for them to help. And none of them are the same person over and over. One had a handsome man with a bow tie; another had an elder woman, and lastly, Krauser even said he had dealt with a pair of twins. That's what made Leon struggle to believe this was real.

None of these people were truly scared to show their faces, but they all had the same name of merchant.

They had no true agenda. No sense of good or bad.

Leon hoped to never see them in his own missions. He didn't care if they had helped them before, Leon wasn't interested in them no matter how much.

His mission was down south. He had to learn Spanish in case the issues came to his language, but he knew the main part of the mission. A couple of normal soldiers came here, and we were murdered by a couple infected by the T. Leon was the next best option.

And Leon came ready. If a merchant was going to be there, he'll ignore them, no matter who it is.

Once he entered the place, it was a lonely village that was nearby an Umbrella lab, so he had already concluded who was going to be here. His heart beaten fast when he saw a person infected by the T. A poor woman whose skin was rotted away. Leon killed her without a second doubt. Even if Leon had the cure in his hand, he wouldn't want to use it on her, especially with the heat of the brutal summer.

Not only was her skin rotted. There was hole in skull that he didn't even make.

"How unfortunate," Leon immediately turned to whom it belonged to, "Seeing death is always unforgivable." A woman with a black dress was behind a desk of items. Due to the circumstances, she was hauntingly beautiful with the death surrounding her. It took a moment for Leon to realize it. She is a merchant.

"Hi, stranger." She smiled politely at Leon.

"Hi." Leon said firmly.

She played with string of pearls around her neck, "I'll be helping you with.... your situations." She seemed so nonchalant, her voice was relaxed as if the danger could never harm her.

"Situations..." Leon looked around her store of items. She had almost everything in this little place, a small box with a strange symbol planted on the center. "I'm sure you are betting for to get into those situations." Leon muttered. But she shook her head. It was almost automatic.

"Goodness, no!" She exclaimed loudly. "My services are here to help you. To assist you." She placed her gloved hand between him and her. "May I? Free of charge."

There was a silence between them. Begrudgingly, Leon handed his gun to her, "Careful with it." He muttered.

She grabbed the gun, "SG-09 R. Quite impressive." She clocked it and checked the modifications in the gun. "Fast, strong, and made by Kendo." She pointed the gun towards a section and shot a glass bottle. "But I can make better. Especially with the control of the government." She broke up the gun and grabbed a small bottle of oil to ease up the details of gun. "Do I permission to change the glock?"

Leon nodded his head.

The merchant got into work, she brought out the small tools to work on the gun, and changed very small details of the gun. After a couple of short minutes, she twirled the gun back into place. "Here you go, stranger." The merchant handed the gun back to its owner.

Leon lifted the gun and noticed the differences. She didn't change the drastic differences of the poor gun, but it made it functional for the monsters. He pulled on the trigger and shot the a piece of wood. The gun shot faster.

She grabbed a rag and cleaned her gloved hands. "It's easy as they come." She smiled. Her fingers returned back to her pearls, dragging the details bit by bit. "I love helping the new."

Leon wished he was normal. His dumb mind entered cave man for like three seconds. Maybe it was the small praise he got from her or how the merchant spoke to him without belittling him. He felt his cock twitch, "Yeah, thanks." He awkwardly put his gun back to its holster.

He promised himself the less impossible thing ever. Leon was spending a lot of time with the merchant, he saw her how her knife formed small knick knacks from wood. "Look." The merchang leaned to show him. It was small wooden figure of him. Leon took in a sharp exhale.

"Nice." He whispered softly.

"I give them to the other merchants so they can sell them." The merchant smiled. Her painting was very gentle, every brush was made with love. "Why sell them?" Leon asked. "It's like discount. If you have this." She lifted a small shield-like charm, "You'll have an upgrade with any merchant."

"Oh, that's great." Leon eyed her face, "So, if another merchant sees it, they'll automatic give you that help."

The merchant smiled, "Exactly." She continued the paint and Leon was just looking at her, "So, what perks will I get if I buy my small keychain?" He whispered softly. The merchant sighed softly, "Mm, well, how about 30% off when I fixed that knife of yours."

Leon nodded his head as he continued to look.

As time passed and such, Leon did his job and then immediately went to her section to 'buy' stuff. All that time of bothering the merchant, he finally got what he wanted as she pumped his cock.

She was on her knees as she pumped his cock into her mouth, Leon's hips moved up, "Fuck." The merchant rubbed the red tip and sucked it gently. He needed this after so long. Leon's hands covered his face, his cheeks were red and he was ultra sensitive over everything. The merchant rubbed Leon's tip around her lips and left his pre cum around them.

He chewed on his lips trying to keep quiet in case an infected could find them. The merchant's hand pumped his length, "I do the first time free." She teased him. Her hand slide down his cock and massaged his balls. He didn't know if she spoke the truth, but he was willing to pay for this again. The merchant's tongue dragged against his shaft and kissed the tip. "Just fuck me. Please."

The merchant shook her head, "You'll need your energy for the fights." She looked at his cock and placed his needy self inside of her mouth. She gagged weakly, his hips weakly moved against the merchant's mouth. He needed to cum and go back to work. His hands traveled around his pecs and squeezed them, he noticed the merchant noticing those details. Leon blushed but didn't stop himself as he played with nipples.

Flicking them a bit trying to help the simulation. She bobbed her head faster and he groaned. "Fuck, fuck-" His cum erupted into the merchant's mouth and it slowly fell out, she licked the mess without an issue. Leon groaned loudly feel his body relax bit by bit. His eyes completely soften and gently caressed her face, "Mm, thank you."

When Leon was back on his feet, he felt her hands smoothing out the wrinkles of his shirt. He felt too easy, but he liked her touch.

As the sun set above him, the merchant waved politely a goodbye to Leon; He simply nodded his head, his legs were a bit weak, but he had to go back to his job.

The next time he was with the Merchant, he was between her dress. He licked her pussy, his hands opened her thighs to shove himself deeper. Her cunt was keeping him sane after the brutal fights, her hands grabbed his hair and pulled his straight blond hair. Leon growled weakly, "Please, I just need your cum." No extra steps, he wanted it. His tongue moved around her clit and once he heard the merchant's moan he focused on it more.

His fingers shoved inside of her pussy and pumped them in and out. His tongue licked the wetness that poured into his hand. His finger curled up and fucked her up. The merchant's legs squirmed around Leon. He licked up the pretty hole and removed his fingers again, her thighs clenched around his face as he fucked her with his tongue. Flicking it over and over, he pulled it out and sucked her clit. She groaned loudly, her legs opened a bit, and Leon kissed her thighs over and over. The merchant released, Leon's fingers rubbed gently her cunt and licked the mess.

He was thankful for the merchant's services.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (7)

She never thought she would be involved in a murder case. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

Part Summary: She finds herself in a compromising position.

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide

a/n: this is my first time writing suspense and crime-mystery, so bear with me if you find any inaccuracy

IF THERE WAS ONE THING SPENCER WAS SURE OF, IT WAS BEING SLEEP DEPRIVED. Fatigue, like an invisible shroud, draped itself around his shoulders, draining all of his energy while his mind stumbled through a labyrinth of exhaustion.

He stifled a yawn, his mind trying to focus on the situation at hand and not the lack amount of sleep he was having. When was the last time he actually slept on his bed? When was the last time he went through his days without constantly refilling his cup with too much caffeine? The muscles around his eyes were starting to twitch with restless energy, a sign of a restless mind faltered under the weight of weariness.

Yet amidst it all, a strange resilience emerged within him. He still managed to focus his blurred vision, scanning his eyes around the room as he pushed away any fatigue and the desire to be somewhere else.

His gaze finally ceased on Garcia, engrossed in her own digital world, a sleek laptop perched on the round table before her. She leaned in, her eyes fixed on the vibrant screen which illuminated her face with a soft, cool glow. "Alright, so, I did more digging onto our recent victim, and let me tell you this, Jamison Lynch wasn't exactly the boss of the year."

Jennifer Jareau—who most of them regarded as JJ—looked up from the document in her hand, sitting across from Garcia. "What do you mean?"

"Jamison Lynch was somebody you wouldn't want as a boss. There were a lot of complaints coming from his subordinates—which surprisingly, most came from female workers."

Spencer's eyes scanned the large board in front of him adorned with a labyrinth of interconnected information. Photographs of the two crime scenes were pinned up, highlighting key details, while strings of marks and drawings crossed the board. "He was very different from the first victim."

"Exactly. Kevin Marshall was the epitome of boss of the year, and everybody just loved the guy, which was why no one could guess how something terrible could happen to him."

"There's a chance what happened to him isn't related to his job," JJ offered.

"Maybe not," Garcia muttered, throwing Spencer a curious look. "But the question is still unanswered, how are the two victims linked to one another?"

"The Unsub's memo is clearly done to punish them," Spencer explained, his attention started to gather all the information gripped onto his brain. "The verse written on Jamison Lynch's body was Romans 6:23, For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in our Lord."

JJ leaned over the desk with a pointed stare. "One thing for sure, the Unsub has a strong religious background."

Spencer nodded. "All the verse they used highlights the notion that sin carries consequences, and death is described as the 'wage' or payment for those transgressions. In his mind, they may interpret these verses as a justification for his vigilante actions, believing that he's carrying out divine punishment on behalf of God."

"A religious upbringing," JJ suggested. "The Unsub could have grown up in a deeply religious environment, where strict interpretations of scripture might be emphasized."

"Most likely a distorted belief system." Spencer's hands were all over the place as he continued with his elucidation. "Over time, the Unsub's religious beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading him to believe that he possesses a unique calling to carry out punishment on behalf of a higher power."

He then studied the picture of the first crime scene, his eyes raking over the lifeless body covered in a pool of blood. "Kevin Marshall might seem like the golden citizen, but he must be involved in something that could be illegal..." He suddenly looked over to Garcia. "Did Jamison Lynch start his career as a journalist?"

Her fingers danced across the keyboard. "Yes, he published a lot of his work since 2004."

"Search any articles he wrote that might involve Kevin Marshall, or maybe the company he worked for. "

"Or legal cases that he was assigned with," JJ added.

"That could be a start, although it might take a while because sleuthing without much lead is difficult." Garcia peered at the two of them by the rim of her eccentric, colorful glasses. "But do not fret, I am known to be the best."

Footsteps suddenly emerged into the room as Aaron Hotchner glanced around the three of them. "Garcia," he mentioned, standing behind her. "Did you find any old cases that might be involved in the victims?"

"Ah, yes, the system was searching through the database based on your queries this morning and it took me a while before—" A sudden ping echoed from her device. “Well, that was perfect timing."

Her fingers clicked across the keyboard as her eyes scanned the dimly lit screen. Everyone in the room stood frozen in their tracks, their faces etched with a curious mix of trepidation and curiosity.

Garcia's eyes widened, revealing the turmoil that echoed the collective sentiment of the room. "Whoa."

JJ stood up and circled her way around the table, standing close to her. "What is it?"

"I started looking through the database for any similar crimes in surrounding areas this morning." Her attention shifted between the other three people in the room. "There have been enucleations in other cases, but none recently, and none close by. No similar murder case was shown, but suicide on the other hand..."

"Harvey Webb," JJ read, looking at the photo of the deceased man. "Suicidal death?"

"Thirty-nine-year-old landlord took a tumble off a sixth-floor balcony two years ago, exactly on the apartment complex he rented out."

"Why are we looking at a suicidal case?"

"That's the thing, the local authorities ruled out that he might've not jumped on his own accord, although his wife at that time determined that he had been having suicidal thoughts for a long time and decided to close the case." Garcia did more tapping on her keyboard and somehow pictures of the crime scene were plastered across the screen in front of the room. "Harvey went through depression and a lot of suicidal attempts, there were always cuts along his arm except—"

"There was a writing on his body?" Hotch guessed.

Garcia nodded as she clicked on a clearer picture of the victim's arm. "His autopsy came in that while there were definite signs of attempt self-hurt, this was written between the cuts."

"Galatians 6:7," Spencer read, his eyes fixated on the screen as he recited, "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows."

"Definitely a vigilante on the loose," JJ remarked.

Spencer hummed a positive response and walked over to the board, a marker in his hand as he wrote down the verse. "This verse underscores the concept of reaping the consequences of one's actions, which could further justify the Unsub's belief that his victims deserve punishment for his perceived sins or mistakes."

Hotch studied the pictures of the recent victims and the one shown on the screen. "The way the words are carved across the skin is definitely done by the same person," he noted.

JJ looked between the three pictures before nodding. "I agree." She then glanced up at her co-workers. "So why the different MO? Something connects these three victims, and yet this one"—she pointed to the photo of Harvey Webb—"died in a completely different manner. He either jumped or was pushed. We don't even know if it was a murder, just that he was branded the same as the other two victims."

"The timeline doesn't add up," Spencer claimed, his brows furrowed deeper. "There's too much of a gap between the first victim and the second victim, we're looking at two different stressors that triggered the Unsub."

Hotch stood beside him, crossing his arms as he studied the evidence they had collected these past few days. "If this was his first victim and the two men were his second and third, it's possible he's advancing, that his fantasy is developing."

Spencer looked back at the three pictures. What connected these three dead people, two murdered in violent, heinous ways, the third a potential suicide victim? What wrongdoings might they possibly sin? And now he couldn't help but feel the weight of Hotch's words and how revolting one could act in this series of crimes, proclaiming them as fantasies, his skill, and determination more distinguished than ever before.

"If that's the case..." he pointed out, a certain tension hanging in the air. "He's only getting started."

Y/n must be mad—utterly, completely out of her mind.

She always considered herself a very sensible person characterized by an ability to think critically, or make rational decisions on logical reasoning. But her thoughts, once orderly and coherent, twisted into bewildering shapes because here she was, perched right in front of an apartment door she once closed behind and never looked back.

Why did she think it was a good idea to come here uninvited at this time of hour? How did she end up being here when she was lying in her bed a few hours ago?

She recalled turning around in her sleep, or perhaps, her attempt to rest her eyes, because she found herself staring into the dark with an unsettling feeling in her gut. Maybe all the turmoil of emotions piled up in her chest had her going into a panic frenzy, relentlessly moving in her bed when she should've been fast asleep.

Somehow amidst dwelling on her anxiety, she was suddenly on her feet, putting on a jacket before calling a cab. Her mind was too tangled to be driving on her own, and when the driver asked her where she was heading, she recited the area she was familiar with. Did she remember the building she wanted to go to? Yes. Did she know the exact address? Apparently not.

Although it was easy to spot the building. The old but clean apartment was recognizable, the sturdy wooden door, adorned with vintage brass fixtures, welcomed her after she tipped the driver her fair. The cool air hit her face, her hair flying around her shoulders as she spotted a residence walking out of the building. She quickly slipped in, seeking a very much-needed warmth, yet now she was starting to question her common sense.

But it was too late to turn back because her hand was already curling into a fist as she knocked on the door. Once, twice, three times. When there was no answer, she wasn't sure whether to be glad or disappointed. She knocked once again, and when she was met with silence, she decided it was a sign that she was indeed making the wrong decision.

So she exhaled a breath she wasn't even aware of holding, turned around, and completely froze when she was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes. There he was, almost a week since the last time she saw him, standing on the last step of stairs.

Time seemed to stand still. Her heart skipped a beat, his presence exuded a captivating charm. His chiseled features were accentuated by a sculpted jawline, leading up to a pair of intense, deep-set eyes that seemed to hold a hefty amount of fatigue. Dark circles cast shadows beneath his eyes, hinting at nights spent wrestling with restless thoughts.

He was dressed in a rumpled shirt and loosely fitted trousers, his attire mirrored the fatigue he wore upon his face. The fabric seemed to hang upon his frame, lacking the crispness that usually accompanied his wardrobe. But despite his weariness, there was an undeniable pull emanating from his presence. It should be illegal how handsome he still looked even when he looked like he needed some rest.

Spencer took a tentative step closer, looking reminiscent of a puppy with his eyebrows pinched at each beginning in a way that can only mimic either confusion or concentration. "Y/n?"

"Hi," she awkwardly greeted, suddenly feeling out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"I..." she trailed off, her brows furrowed as she tried to find a reasonable answer. But somehow she found herself telling him the truth. "I honestly don't know."

His eyes fixed upon her, silently studying her figure. A cascade of lustrous hair framed her face, falling gracefully upon her shoulders.

"Do you want to come in?"

"I don't want to impose on you—" she stepped aside, letting him unlock his door. "Or disturb your much-needed rest."

A ghost of a smile curled on the corner of his lips as he fished out his keys. "I look terrible, don't I?"

"I wouldn't say terrible, just... you look very tired."

"I haven't had proper sleep in days." With a steady hand, he inserted the key into the lock before a satisfying click echoed in the air. With a gentle push, the door swung open, and he gestured to her with a nod.

She looked between him and his apartment. "Are you sure?"

"Come in," he offered. He walked inside his home and pulled the door ajar. "Please."

She studied him for a while before nodding. The floor creaked as she stepped into his household, and as the door swung shut behind her, she scanned the room that seemed familiar yet foreign at the same time. A sense of warmth enveloped her despite the predominantly dark colors that adorned the space. Soft, ambient lighting emanated from placed lamps, casting a gentle glow upon the room.

She walked past him and noticed the chessboard splayed across the coffee table. "I didn't know you play chess." She sat down on his couch. "Looks like you were in the middle of a game… was someone else here?"

He wasn't sure whether he heard a note of jealousy in her voice, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Actually, I was in a game with myself," he answered sheepishly, shrugging off his suit jacket before placing it over his couch. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, it's alright." She leaned forward, her gaze fixed upon the chessboard. Her eyes darted back and forth, analyzing the board with a keen interest before moving a chess piece, placed with precision and purpose.

Genuine surprise crossed his face as he settled beside her. "You know how to play chess?"

"A little. I used to play with my father growing up."

"You don't play with him anymore?"

She shook her head. "He passed away when I was young. Both of my parents did."

"I'm sorry," he gently spoke. He leaned back and turned his body toward her. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Nope, just me."

"I'm an only child too." Then he assessed her carefully while her eyes wandered beyond her striking features, a subtle tension betrayed a deeper complexity lurking beneath the surface. "Now are you going to tell me why you're here?"

He noticed the subtle language of her body where uncertainty weaved on her face. It was in the way she looked between him and her hands, a balance between wonder and reservation that hinted at the lingering doubt within. Then she took a deep breath, her brows furrowed as her voice filled in the silence.

"Does it make me a bad person that I didn't cry after everything that happened?"

He frowned, taken aback by the sudden question. "What do you mean?"

"There was a memorial service for Jamison a few days ago, and while everyone mourned, I just... stood there." She looked down at her hands. "What happened to him was very unfortunate, it just happened that, apparently, I have no emotions.”

His head fell back onto the couch as he watched her. "It doesn't make you a bad person. Grief is a deeply personal and individual experience, and people respond to loss in different ways. Crying is just one expression of grief, but it isn't the only definitive indicator of how much someone cared for or was impacted by the loss of a person, especially given how you saw what had happened."

"But it makes me feel kind of heartless." She glanced back at him. "I mean, he wasn't exactly the greatest boss, and I should've felt a certain kind of sadness, but I... I don't know how I feel, to be honest."

"Y/n," he gently called, his expression softening. "It's important to remember that everyone grieves in their own way. What matters most is that you find healthy ways to navigate and process your emotions surrounding the loss, whether it involves crying or not."

She hummed in response. "I guess you do have a point."

"I do, and I'm right most of the time." Spencer smiled when she rolled her eyes and a comfortable silence settled between them. "Now tell me the truth."

She quirked an eyebrow. "What truth?"

"You obviously have a lot on your mind right now and I'm trying to wrap my head around why you chose to be here."

"Do I need to have a reason?"

As his gaze lingered, he found himself drawn to her eyes—a delicate blend of curiosity and trepidation. They shimmered with a gentle vulnerability, revealing the depths of her longing to be seen and understood.

"I would like to know your reason."

She weighed her words carefully. "I couldn't sleep,” she decided to say. “My mind was constantly turning its gear, then it got too overwhelming?” She shook her head. “I-I guess I needed the comfort..."

As she tried to find her voice, her words become entangled in the turmoil of her emotions. With a deep breath, she gathered her courage. The words spilled forth, unfiltered and vulnerable, resonating with a sincerity that echoed through the room.

"And somehow you were the first person that came to mind."

Spencer felt an unfamiliar intensity washing over him—a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty that tugged at his heartstrings. And then suddenly, completely out of nowhere, the desire to embrace her consumed him, both thrilling and terrifying. It was such a baffling thought because he found hugs to be overwhelmingly intimate for his liking, yet there was this urge to hold her close, to feel the warmth of her body against his.

The weight of uncertainty pressed upon him, urging caution and restraint. But logic lost its battle with instinct, and caution lost its wrestle with impulsive longing as he found himself asking, "Can I give you a hug?"

Her body tensed, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. But as he kept staring at her, she realized that he was being serious. And she found herself nodding, yearning for the warmth radiating from his body.

He carefully drew closer and a magnetic force guided her movements, gently pushing her into his arms. Nervous excitement coursed through her veins, infusing a sense of vulnerability.

Bodies entwined, they breathe in unison, inhaling the essence of closeness as senses unfold—the warmth of skin against skin, the familiar scent that filled the air, the weight of the world momentarily faded away as they surrendered to the pure simplicity of human touch.

His head was spinning with longing and somehow he managed to pull her body gently onto his lap. She silently accepted his tug, placing her legs on either side of his thighs as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Amidst her relishing the gentle press of his body against hers, she couldn't help but find amusement in this new position.

He felt the subtle shake of her shoulder as a burst of soft laughter escaped her mouth. He suddenly tensed. "Is there something funny?"

The confusion etched in his voice had her pulling away, a small smile lingering on her face. "Yes," she answered. "It's amusing how you like having me on your lap so much.”

A slight warmth spread along his face as he became aware of her weight settling on top of him. "I didn’t notice."

She wasn't sure whether it was the glimmer in his eyes, the bashful smile on his lips, or the way he didn't pull his gaze away from her, but before it could register in her mind, she drew herself closer to him. The sudden shift of her movement caused a friction underneath her, and it was at that moment she realized how compromising of a position they were in.

Her fingers brushed against his skin, and an electric current surged through her veins, awakening a longing she had not anticipated. Her eyes flickered with a newfound intensity—a hunger that shimmered in the depths of her gaze as she could only focus on the pulse settling between her thighs. 

As her longing deepened, she became acutely aware of his proximity. The scent of him enveloped her, intoxicating her senses, and her mind was consumed by allowing herself to surrender in this newfound need. 

So she slowly rolled her hips, feeling his body beneath her, and suppressed a moan when she felt the outline of his bulge stroking against her core. Her breath hitched, betraying the innocent intentions that had initially brought them together. 

She felt him tense from the friction and his heart thudding hard against his ribcage, her heart beating to the same rhythm. "Stop doing that," he suddenly said, eyes darkening as he stared at her, voice deep and raspy. 

"Why?" She whispered.

A whirlwind of emotions churned within him. His heart ached to offer solace, yet primal longing tugged at his core, igniting an undeniable urge to keep her closer, to indulge in the sudden pull of desire.

"Because if you don't," he grunted, his hand sliding up her neck, burying it in her thick hair as he tilted her face. He pulled her closer, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat. The heat of her presence lingered on his fingertips, tempting him to pull her into an embrace that transcends mere comfort. "I won't be able to stop myself."

His gaze then traced the contours of her form. The subtle curve of a hip, the graceful arch of a back, the gentle swell of a chest—all become objects of fascination. He watched as her tongue wiped along her bottom lip while she slid her hands across his shoulders, stopping right on his chest, hovering above his heart.

"Then don't," she softly pleaded, moving her hips once again, igniting a moan deep within his chest. “I don't want you to stop."

It was the only push he needed as he closed the distance between them, finally crushing his lips to hers.

>> NEXT PART

.

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And don’t forget to interact with the story! <3

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid series #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencerreid #fanfiction #fanfic series #right kind of wrong

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: "…How’d you know I wanted this?" "Because I heard you talking about it on several occasions." "I didn’t know you paid this much attention to me." "—I don’t. You just happen to talk really loudly.”

Pairing: Idia Shroud x GN!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff, and slight crack because it's Idia <3

TW: NA

"-And so, we shall celebrate this winter with a housewarden Secret Santa exchange!" Crowley smiled, golden eyes crinkling into happy little half-moons behind his mask.

The seven housewardens of NRC, joined by Ramshackle's Prefect for this particular meeting, looked at each other. Some with clear exasperation in their eyes, a few (namely Kalim) showing a little more excitement than the rest of their dour counterparts.

The Prefect sighed, sinking into their chair as if embarrassed beyond words as Crowley clapped his hands and stretched his arms towards them, proudly continuing.

"I must give credit of this splendid idea to our beloved Prefect, who told me about this adorable little custom they had followed back in their own world. Of course, being the kind and generous soul that I am, I wish for our Prefect to feel right at home here in Twisted Wonderland. I believe all of you wish the same, hm?"

Leona grumbled under his breath as he leaned back in his chair, tail swishing irritably. Of course the old crow goes and uses them against us, he thought to himself, watching as the others' faces immediately softened at that. No matter how much the seven housewardens of NRC hated working with each other, with the exception of Kalim who seemed happy to just be there, all of them would bear with it if it was for the sake of the Ramshackle Prefect.

Crowley didn't exaggerate when he called the magicless human a beast tamer.

"Fine by me, as long as I don't have to get somethin' for the lizard," he spoke, jutting his chin at Malleus as he frowned. The dragon fae narrowed his eyes at him, before turning to look at the headmage.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, I agree with Kingscholar," he said, voice low and serious. "That being said, I do hope that you would allow me to partake in this gift exchange with the Child of Man as my partner."

"Now, now, that isn't fair to the rest of us, Malleus. I would very much like to be the Prefect's Secret Santa as well," Vil hummed, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's not how Secret Santa works," the Prefect sighed, before Crowley took over for them. "Precisely. And to ensure that everyone has a fair chance of being assigned as our beloved Prefect's Secret Santa, we will have the fairest means of competition possible!"

He took a box from under the table and placed it in front of everyone. "You all shall draw chits, and the person who's name you draw will be for whom you have to get a gift," he drummed his golden claws on the box as he pushed it in Riddle's direction.

"Mr. Rosehearts, if you would."

Riddle nodded, before putting his hand inside and pulling out a chit.

The process continued, with the Prefect being the last to pull out a name. Their eyes had widened on seeing what was written before they shoved the piece of paper in their pocket, refusing to answer Malleus and Kalim's questions of whose name they had pulled.

No one noticed the reclusive housewarden of Ignihyde slinking away in the shadows, the tips of his hair flaming a soft pink.

"Why did I have to get them, out of everybody?" Idia groaned into his pillow. The one time he decided to attend a housewarden meeting in person, he had to be roped into what was probably going to be the most awkward bonding activity.

"I do not have enough XP to get the Prefect a gift for Christmas," he mumbled to himself, turning to lie on his back. As Idia stared up at the ceiling, he continued airing out his grievances to the techomantic machines in his room.

"If it was any of the others I could have gotten them something. What do I get them...?"

Idia let out another groan, dragging his hands down his face. Maybe avoiding them after his overblot wasn't such a great idea...

But how could he have brought himself to talk to them after the entire fiasco that was his overblot? If there was anyone who knew all about the effects of overblots on victims and the people around them, it was him. Besides, Ortho had become fast friends with them, so he could always keep an eye on their state through him...

"Ortho!"

The young humanoid poked his head in through the door, only to be met with the frantic and helpless eyes of his brother.

"Help me get something for the Prefect!"

Idia sighed, wishing for not the first time and certainly not the last time to melt into the floor, if only to escape the stifling atmosphere in the room as the housewardens exchanged presents.

Distracted by the sight of ever oblivious Kalim handing a flustered Riddle an extremely expensive-looking tea set, he didn't notice when the Prefect snuck up on him.

"Hey."

"Sevens-!" He spun his head to look at them, eyes wide with shock and fear. "P-Prefect, you shouldn't creep up on me like that! That's t-too much for my poor otaku heart-!"

Idia's cheeks and hair tinted a light pink as they mumbled out an apology for startling him. They allowed him to calm down before speaking.

"So, who's the lucky person?" They asked, their gaze on the wrapped box in his hand. He felt his mouth dry, at a loss for words.

"T-this is, uh, it's for you, a-actually," he mumbled, feeling warm as he looked down at the neatly wrapped present before handing it to them.

The Prefect tilted their head, and Idia had to stop his squeal at how cat-like that action was. "You're my Secret Santa?"

Idia nodded, not trusting his words to be anything but a panicked jumble of how cute they were and how much he liked them and how he hoped they liked what he got for them because if they didn't then he would happily bury himself alive to escape the humiliation and embarassment and-

"What a coincidence! I'm your Secret Santa as well!"

"O-Oh." Idia's train of thought screeched to a stop, before roaring back and running at even higher speeds. Is this some sort of joke from the Seven? That just upped the difficulty level! Abort, abort mission right now!

They smiled, before pressing something into Idia's hands. The warmth of their smaller hands on his was equal parts comforting and panic-inducing. Had Ortho been there, he would have definitely remarked on his increased heartbeat and dilated pupils.

"I got you the merch that Precipice Moirai released recently. It isn't much, but..."

"Isn't much..? Wait, are you talking about those figurines they launched for their fifth anniversary?!" Idia's eyes widened as you nodded. "Even I couldn't get them anywhere because I was a bit late! How did you clear that quest so easily?!"

"Well... I entered the lucky draw they held just for fun, but ended up winning the figurines. And I knew that you wanted them, so-"

"How did you know I wanted this?" Idia asked. It wasn't his intention to be rude, but he was pretty sure that all of his groaning and moaning about losing the chance to own the ultra-rare, SSR tier merch was only heard by Ortho.

He watched as they hesitated before answering. "That's because... I heard you talking about it to Ortho a few times."

Idia's heart thundered in his chest. The Prefect was trying to not make eye contact with him, a clear sign that they weren't telling the entire truth.

"I, uh.. I didn’t know you paid this much attention to me"

"—I don’t. You just happen to talk really loudly and passionately about the things you like," they said, still refusing to make eye contact with him. Before Idia could tell himself that it was because the Prefect wanted to get over with this interaction as soon as they could, he noticed the darkness of their cheeks, and the colour on the tip of their ears.

"Oh. Well, thank you anyways, Prefect. I hope you'll like my gift as well," Idia said, an awkward, yet sincere smile on his face.

Back to Masterlist...

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twst #twst idia #twisted wonderland idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia x prefect #idia x yuu #twst idia shroud #merry twstmas event #finally! #i get this out on the boyo's birthday! #happy birthday idia! #400 follower event

[most-datable-datable-bracket]

ROUND 2 MATCH 15

Gale propaganda:

“He is my cringe malewife I love him <3”

“Listen. Some may dunk on him for eating all of your magic artifacts (he only eats three!!) and others may dislike him for various bugs in his romance. But man oh man does this guy take devotion to the next level. He is such a romantic. Says the line "Whether I condemn this world or not, I choose you." after you successfully convince him to disobey his goddess who is also his ex girlfriend. He's a bit hungry for power, but in like, a sexy way, where he wants to get it to elevate you both to Godhood. And if you tell him that you want him for the man he is and not the God he aspires to be, he abandons that search for power and proposes. You can have wizard sex with him in the sky. His "rebellious streak" consists of staying up late reading and summoning a cat when his parents told him he couldn't have one, and also the aforementioned pursuit of godlike powers. What an absolute catch. He's always saying dramatic stuff in battle, but if you have him sneak around, he starts complaining like a grumpy old man. He's extra attracted to you when you're in battle. He has a bomb in his chest. And it is a very nice chest. Anyway. Boyfriend material.”

“This man is so sweet and idealistic. He wants everything about your romance to go perfectly like a fairy tale but that isn't really possible in apocalyptic settings, so he will use magic to help you forget  your surroundings when trying to be intimate to get as close as he can to perfect because he wants you to have the best. He is also attracted to literally all of your character and gets really turned on when you are musky and covered in blood after a battle. Just love my nerdy awkward horny romantic wizard.”

Shadowheart propaganda:

“I have been made aware she hasn’t been submitted yet and that is a crime. Shadowheart is so wonderful. She’s a slow burn romance but it’s extremely worth it for the payoff. She has so much faith in you from early on if you make the choice to save her. She’s brilliant and talented and interesting and I can’t believe you are all ignoring her.”

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #shadowheart #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #Round 2 #MDDC 2

[smytherines]

So over the course of the last couple of days I have watched both A1P1 and Doing This several times, sometimes on 0.5 playback speed to take screenshots. Just so many screenshots. And the thing that really hits so hard for me is the... gender of it all?

Here's the thing. Curt and Owen flirt pretty much nonstop throughout A1P1 (especially if you believe Curt did know it was Owen in disguise, which I'm 50/50 on). And it seems really easy for Curt. He has that swagger, that confidence, the smile, its all very genuinely charming and you can definitely see why he and Owen got together. He seems not just comfortable in his skin, but thriving. He has someone who knows who he is. He doesn't have to put on an act with this person.

But in Doing This (and in the Casino scene, which I did screenshots for last week), it's all the most obscenely awkward thing in the world. There's I dunno 15 seconds or so where Curt looks distressed over thinking that Tatiana wants to *ahem* do it. But in the space of a just a few frames he goes from that look of pure panic to this incredibly cheesy Walmart book bin romance cover guy.

Its a gender performance that feels very noticably off. Its like he snaps into a role. The poses, the mugging, it's all very.... rehearsed. And maybe it worked with women who aren't spies, and maybe he was better at pretending before he lost Owen, but he is very obviously pretending.

And in this specific instance I don't think it's an issue of losing his rizz (as the kids call it). He's trying to act the way he thinks a straight man would act. Trying on this version of masculinity that simply does not fit him. And the more he tries to contort himself to make it fit, the less stereotypically masculine he comes across. Whereas in A1P1, when he was really flirting with someone he was really attracted to, that came across as very stereotypically, effortlessly masculine.

And once they kiss and Tatiana immediately clocks him as gay and tells him she's cool with it, the body language changes again to just pure relief. This guy who has had to spend his whole life pretending to be something he isn't, who lost the one person in his life who really knew him, and finally he has someone else in his life that he doesn't have to pretend around. Just... I dunno, the difference in body language is so poignant to me. I love how this show is built around so many subtle little storytelling moments.

#spies are forever #tin can bros #curtwen #agent curt mega #owen carvour #saf #tcb

[beansterpie]

K I threw together a translation for the new es21 anniversary chapter! There's probably mistakes and some awkward phrasing because I always end up prioritizing accuracy over flow rip. Hopefully the way I've formatted this isn't a total pain to read. I recommend looking at the page first, and then referring to the translation when you can't read something. I skipped any panels that don't have dialogue/text so just reading the translations might be confusing. Anyway it's under the cut!

(Lol sorry I didn't bother translating character blurbs on the right)

Page 1 Panel 1: Announcer: “Noooooww, there’s barely any time left on the clock! This final play will decide the outcome of the match!!” Panel 2: “One of these teams will command the University American Football World!! Panel 3: Which one will it be!? Panel 4: Two star players who once fought together now face off— Panel 5: in this Final Decisive Match”

Page 2-3 Panel 1: Eyeshield 21 aka: Kobayakawa Sena!! VS. The Commander from Hell: Hiruma Yoichi!! Panel 2: Set, Hut!!!

Cover page (4-5): Their First Collision!! Sena [Eyeshield 21] and Hiruma [the one who named him (literally the ‘parent’ who named him)]—

Page 6 Panel 1: [Some months earlier—] Panel 3: DEVILBAT GHOST!!

Page 7 Panel 1: TRIDENT TACKLE!!!

Page 8-9 Panel 1: The ball was fumbled!! Whichever team manages to claim it will win….!! Panel 2: [An American Football rule you can understand in 1 SECOND] Devilbat: YA—HA— It’s stupidly simple! Carry the ball to the enemy line and score (a touchdown)! DB jr.: You can get around 7 points! Panel 4: Monta: CATCH MAX!!! Panel 5: Suzuna: YA—!!! Panel 6: Announcer: The Kanto representatives for the Japanese National American Football University Championships is the team lead by Eyeshield 21 aka. Kobayakawa Sena— the Enma Fires…..!!!!

Page 10 Panel 1: Sakuraba: You really got revenge on us this year. It’s frustrating but it was our total defeat….! Panel 2: Sena: Though, one-on-one, for the most part I couldn’t really get past you (Shin-san) until the very end… Panel 4: Shin: undecipherable Panel 6: Ootawara: OOOOHHHHH MAKE SURE YOU HIT THEM HARD ENOUGH FOR THE BOTH OF US, KURITA—!! Panel 7: Takami: Finally, you’ve earned the right to challenge the undefeated champions Page 11 Panel 1 & 2: Takami: The championship finals against the team lead by Hiruma, the Saikyodai Wizards— at the Koushien Bowl….!!! Panel 3: Sena: Yes….!!

Page 12 Panel 4: Monta: Mukya! What the hell, we can’t get into the club room! Riku: Looks like we have a few visitors— Panel 5: Crowd: The United States President’s son?? Even SP (I believe this is a tv channel) is here… Page 13 Panel 3: Sena: T-this is way too crazy… Kurita: To clear away people like this…..

Page 14 Panel…2?: Hiruma: Kekekekeke, you’re late fucking Fatty and fucking Shrimps Panel 3: Kurita: HIRUMA! Sena: —san!! Monta: And that guy’s from the American Match, the ultimate boss… wait actually, he’s a NFL player now! Page 15 Panel 1: It’s the President’s Junior, Mr. Don….!! Panel 2: Don: An ordinary person goes to a foreign country to run rampant for their own entertainment. A champion (or king lol) goes to a foreign country to express his respect. Panel 3: Don: In this country, it seems excessive meddling from pros in the affairs of amateurs isn’t appreciated, so I’ll get straight to the heart of the matter. Panel 4: Don: Together we will fight and acquire the throne. I’ve come to welcome/receive one hero. Panel 6: Kurita: ?? Monta: What does that mean? Sena: Isn’t this excessive meddling…..

Page 16 Panel 1: Crack! Panel 2: Sena: ….?? Inside my shoulder pad… Panel 3: Sena: What is this, it’s tiny… A white chip? Monta: Ooh, it’s in our shoulder pads too!! Riku: Since when… Panel 4: Hiruma: It’s called an RFID (radio frequency identification (apparently lol)) chip. When you have this on— Panel 5: Glasses: The current location of each player can be determined and measured by inches. Stats like speed and acceleration, it can analyze all data in real time. Enma Babes (presumably): A SCI-FI MACHINE LIKE THAT EXISTS!? Page 17 Panel 1: Don: There’s nothing Sci-Fi about it. Within the NFL world, all players have been using this for a number of years now. Sena & Monta: REALLY!!? Hiruma: They even have them inside the balls. Since you can measure the rotations that way Devibat: It’s true!! DB jr.: The actual pro sports world sure is turning into something amazing! Panel 2: Riku: So, this data analysis chip… Panel 3: Riku: Why are they in our protective equipment…?? Sena: I mean, there’s only one person in this world who would be devilish enough to quietly do something like that… Panel 4: Glasses: With this hoard of collected data, and by using the help of something like Google Brain, we can rely on machine learning to— Sena: Goo… what? Machine…?? Panel 5: Don: How sad~ Oohh, AI, AI! Civilization has simply taken the human privilege of ‘thinking’, and given it up to machines.

Page 18 Panel 1: Don: Most of all, humanity’s been dulled by favoritism, politics and social correctness. Well, compared to a slow/primitive ruler, it’s (AI) infinitely more reliable. Panel 2: [For our team to reach victory, what kind of player is indispensable? The answer provided by the AI was—] Panel 3: A running back with the speed of light! Or— A phantasmagoric (look it up) quarterback! Panel 5: Glasses: International Player Pass Way Program. In short, there is one slot available for a foreign student trainee as the Japanese representative. Don: Which means that we would be receiving you into our team. Page 19 Panel 1: Kobayakawa Sena, Hiruma Yoichi: between the two of you, only one—

Page 20 Panel 3: (I believe this is some sort of form that Sena filled out about what he wants to pursue after graduation— he says after graduation he wants to become a pro American Football athlete) Panel 4: Hiruma: With my physical abilities, I won’t be able to get into the NFL the usual way. Panel 5: Hiruma: Obviously, I’ll struggle for the top even if it kills me. That’s the thing that makes it fun….! Page 21 Panel 1: Don: When I consulted the man at the top, Panther, about which one to pick— he gave me a truly straightforward answer. Panel 2: Panther: Hm? Well they’re going to have a confrontation directly in the Koshien Bowl, aren’t they? Panel 3: Panther: Sena VS. Hiruma!! We’ll just take whoever wins. Because, isn’t that American Football…!!

Page 22 Panel 1: Sena: …… this contest against Hiruma-san, I’m glad that it’s an American football match. Panel 2: Sena: If it wasn’t, there’s no way I could win against Hiruma-san, you’d bring out your blackmail book and in an instant…. Hiruma: Kekeke, seems like you understand the situation reeeeal well Panel 3: Sena: I mean, whether it’s Don-san’s AI verdict or the pro tryouts— if you put your mind to it, you could use your blackmail book to get whatever you wanted. But, Hiruma-san, when it comes to American football, you’ve always…. you’ve always— Panel 5: Toss~ Panel 6: Hiruma: Well, since I’m going to win against you and become a top pro, I don’t need this thing. Page 23 Panel 5: Sena: But, the one who’ll win is me

Page 24 Sena: I’ll go to defeat you with all my strength. So, Hiruma-san, you also— Hiruma: Kekeke, naturally Page 25 Panel 1: HANSHIN KOSHIEN STADIUM Panel 3: Kurita: Truthfully, I want to root for both of their dreams— For Sena-kun, and for Hiruma. But if I really can’t choose both—

Page 26-27 Panel 1: Kurita: FUNNURABAAA!!!!! Panel 2: Kurita: For the sake of my team, and for Sena-kun’s sake, I’ll defeat Hiruma…..!!! Panel 3: Announcer: Koshien Bowl, the final, decisive match! Against the Saikyodai Wizards, made up of all star members throughout the country— Panel 4: Announcer: Somehow!! The Enma Fires are just slightly in the lead!! Panel 5: Gaou: Fuh… Half of American football is decided by the power of the line. This is the unmatched power of Kurita when he has something to protect….!!!

Page 28 Panel 1: Announcer: Noooooww, there’s barely any time left on the clock! This final play will decide the outcome of the match!! Panel 2: Announcer: Two star players who once fought together now face off— Panel 3: Announcer: In this Final Decisive Match!! Panel 4: Announcer: Eyeshield 21 aka. Kobayakawa Sena!! Vs. The Commander from Hell, Hiruma Yoichi!! Page 29 Panel 1: Hiruma: KILL! KILL! Panel 2: Suzuna: K.I.L.L…..to kill? What’s it mean? Doburoku: In American football, it’s a sign that’s given by the pitcher. It means to completely kill the strategy that had been agreed upon. To put it simply, it’s a signal to hurriedly reset the strategy of the play. Panel 3: Mizumachi: After seeing our defense formation, looks like they want to change things up! Panel 4: Sena: Hiruma-san’s— that ever-changing adaptability’s strength—

Page 30 Panel 1: Hiruma: Kill— Panel 4: Unsui: NO!! THERE HASN’T BEEN ANY CHANGE IN HIS PLAN!! Page 31 Panel 1: Hiruma (I think): This was just a snap counter from the get go— A signal to start the play after the 4th KILL…!!! Panel 2: Enma player: Shit, even though we know what kind of guy he is! Enma player 2: He’s gonna throw a pass— Enma player 3: No, don’t let Hiruma trick you! He’s not throwing— he’s still holding it!! Panel 3: This is a run….!! Panel 5: Shit, that’s wrong, it’s a pass after all….!!!

Page 32 TOUCHDOOOOWN!!! Page 33 Panel 1: Hiruma: YA— HA—!!! Panel 2: Announcer: The final decisive battle was completely controlled by the sorcerer of the field-- Hiruma Yoichi! (there's actually a word in this line I don't understand lol, but this should be the general gist) Panel 3: Announcer: In a sudden turnabout victory, the Saikyodai Wizards win the championship—

Page 34 Panel 1: Announcer: —No, the remaining time on the clock is 1 second!! Panel 2: Hiruma: !! Taka: That was my bad. Panel 3: Taka: On the ground was Sena-kun with his light speed, and in the air Monta was closing in. I had no choice but to catch the ball one second earlier than planned. Panel 5: Unsui (presumably): — 1 second left. Whether we laugh or cry about it, this will be the final play— Page 35 Panel 1: Sena: These sort of seriously close calls… I dunno if you’d call it deja vu or— Panel 2: Monta: That’s right! This is the kind of cliff’s edge that we’ve run along a bunch of times! Panel 3: Agon: Aaaahhh? Ain’t this match already certain victory— Panel 4: Agon: —If we weren’t up against the tiny trash brigade, that is. Hiruma: Kekeke yo~~~ You also know what’s up huh, fucking dreads. Panel 6: Yamato: That’s right, all of us should know by now well enough that it hurts. Panel 7: Yamato: That there are demon-like men out there whose power explodes during dire straits like this.

Page 36 Panel 1: That there was once a miraculous team called the Devilbats— Panel 2: Hiruma: The last play will be Eyeshield 21! They’ll 100,000,000,000% comes at us with Sena’s run!! Anything else is a ruse, completely ignore it, don’t even think 1mm that it’ll be anything else!! Panel 3: Unsui: There’s only one way to go: Sena’s run. All of us will open a path!! Page 37 Panel 1 & 2: Sena’s Run, Complete Specialized All Star Team!! VS. Anti-Sena formation, Complete Specialized All Star Team!!

Page 38: — DON! Page 39 Panel 1: Announcer: Remaining time: 0 seconds! Panel 2: Announcer: With this last play, it’s game set! Panel 4: Yamabushi: Rodio Drive!! Are they coming with Riku!? Taka: No— Panel 6: Riku: Sena…!!

Page 40 Panel 3: IKKYUU…!! Panel 4: How can he reach it, to go into a cut from such a distance…..

Page 42 Panel 1: Sena: UUOOOOOOOOHH!! Panel 2: Mamori: Sena…! Panel 3: Ikkyuu: That guy’s too damn fast— I already knew that but…..!! Panel 4: Announcer: Sure enough, in the end they went with the light speed running back, Eyeshield 21!!! Page 43 Panel 1: Mizumachi: Uha! I said make way! Panel 3: Chuubou: A path for Sena-senpai….!!!

Page 44-45 Panel 3: Announcer: He’s passed everyone! At this rate it’s a touchdown—!!! Panel 4: Hiruma: Kekeke, dig out your eyeballs and give them a good wash— take another look. It’s not over. Panel 5: Kid: He’ll stand in the way— in the end, the ultimate opponent—

Page 46 Panel 1: AGON!!! Page 47 Panel 2: Shin: Sena’s Devilbat Ghost has been fully realized. Panel 3: Shin: It’s a perfect technique for a runner to get past his opponent. The Optimal Technique/Solution.

Page 48 Panel 2: vvrrrrr (vibration sounds) Panel 3: Glasses: The Optimal Solution for this situation is none other than the Devilbat Ghost. But even then, Agon who possesses inherent superhuman reaction speed will likely stop him. Panel 4: [That is the judgement the machine learning system has made based on the real time analysis from the RFID chip] Page 49 Panel 3: Shin: The essential thing you need to reach new heights, is to surpass your Optimal Technique/Solution™— with Courage™ Panel 5: Sena: That’s right— my road isn’t limited only to the two directions that I can dodge Panel 6: Shin: It relies on his light speed cuts. A third option, much like a trident. In a manner of speaking—

Page 50 Panel 1: DEVILBAT TRIDENT!!! Page 51 Panel 1: Mizumachi: You mean he might not dodge!? Riku: A headlong collision!! There’s no way… Panel 2: Glasses: It’s absolutely impossible, how reckless. There’s no chance of winning. The AI declares that this is at most a feint. In the end, Sena will definitely move to evade him! Panel 3: Hiruma: Kekeke, you’re wrong. It’s a hundred billion years too early to try getting past using that hand. Panel 4: Hiruma: But that’s why you’ll go for it. Isn’t that right, Sena. Panel 5: Agon: Aaahhh~~ Hiruma, I’ve fought with you so many times it makes me sick, so I already know all of that….!!!

Page 52 Panel 1: Hiruma ??: The Human brain hasn’t been able to compete with semiconductors for a long time. I’m sure it’ll aaaalll become like that in the future. Panel 2: Hiruma: When it comes to searching for Optimal Solutions™, no one can compete against Sir AI anymore. But— Panel 3: Shin: Beyond the Optimal Solution™ Panel 4: Beyond even the very summit— you continue to struggle with only courage at your back. Page 53 Panel 1: THAT IS WHAT AN ATHLETE IS Panel 3: ??: I’LL GO PRO AND KILL EVERYONE!! Panel 4: ??: I’LL SURPASS THE TOP!!! Panel 5: ??: That athlete will be—

Page 54-55 Panel 1: Hiruma: ME Panel 2: Sena: ME Panel 3: [He surpasses theory, with his light speed courage—!!]

#eyeshield 21 #es21 #es21 anniversary chapter #translations #my translations #?? #idk lmfao #anyway this chapter was! #i mean it sure was #there are things i like about it but also a lot of things i'm very apathetic on hfhfhff #a lot of it feels very rushed due to it just being 55 pages lol #the main matches in the series last -volumes- #AND ALSO #WHERE TF IS MUSASHI??? #WHERE IS MUSASHIII???? UH HELLO?? #high key kind of mad about it

[talaok]

Could you please write an imagine where Pedro and reader know each other for a very long time and reader comes from a not so happy family (unlike Pedro)

He’s in love with her and she does love him but does believe love is real or that relationships can last (thinking everyone only wants her for her body from past flings) and can’t give him a chance due to fear

Happy ending if you want

Thanks

warnings: angst, and brief talk about reader's bad childhood

a/n: im starting to honestly think yall should start writing fics, cause the shit you come up with is so good like

The first time you told him you were 13.

You had showed up at his doorsteps asking for a place to sleep.

You couldn't stand another minute of hearing your parents scream at each other two doors down.

They hadn't even noticed you were gone, they never did.

He was your only real friend at the time, and after a sort of awkward moment with his parents, he'd led you to his room and asked what had happened.

And that's the first time he heard the sentence he'd grow to hate.

"Love isn't real. It never lasts"

Your parents were the proof. Love is a trap, it deceives you into thinking you can spend your life with someone, when really, all you're doing is locking yourself into a cage, and when you finally realize what you've done, it will be too late, because then you'll be scared to get out, to start new, and that's why you'll stay, forever imprisoned because your own stupid choices.

From then on, it became your mantra.

With every guy who disappeared after having gotten you into bed, with every guy who dumped you as soon as they'd seen what's underneath your clothes, one sentence engraved itself in your mind.

Love isn't real. Love isn't real. Love isn't real.

And that's why, he, of all people, knew better than anyone why he shouldn't tell you, why he should continue pretending like he'd been doing for almost twenty years,

Maybe he was a masochist, or maybe his feelings were getting too strong and they had started to fog his brain, but he couldn't hold it in anymore, he'd kept it hidden for too long, and no matter how many women he'd meet there was always you in the back of his mind.

It had always been you.

And that's why tonight... tonight he had finally let go.

"Y/n, I love you" 

He saw you freeze before his eyes, shocked and terrified of the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"I'm sorry" he murmured, swiping his sweaty hands on his jeans and looking around your living room to try and gather some composure. "I'm sorry to drop this on you like this. I know how you feel about the whole... love thing" he winced internally as his eyes set anywhere but on yours "And- and I don't want to ruin our friendship, and it's ok if you don't feel the same way, but..." He swallowed what felt like sand in his mouth as he finally looked into your eyes "Y/n I've felt this way for so fucking long" he breathed "I-I think I was too young to understand it when we met, but as we grew up it just became clearer and clearer and... and I couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't keep it to myself anymore y/n, I'm sorry"

His words felt distant, muffled.

You felt like you were drowning and he was trying to talk to you from above the water.

He'd just told you the three words you dreaded most in the world, and now you didn't know what to do, or say, or even think.

And it wasn't the same as when any of your old boyfriends had said it, no, with him, with Pedro, those words scared you because they meant so much more, 

because they reached into that deep, hidden part of you that... that felt the same way.

And that part of you was hidden for a reason, that part of you was the only thing that prevented you from becoming like your mom, from falling into the trap.

And now he'd just handed you the keys, and all you needed to do was decide to open the lock.

And you didn't know if you wanted to.

"I don't want to lose you y/n, the last thing I want is to lose you, you- you're the most important person in my life, I-I'd be lost without you, so if you don't feel the same way, it's fine, I promise it's fine, I can take it, but before you say anything I just want you to know that when I say I love you I mean it," Both your hearts were beating faster than they'd ever beaten before"I mean I love every single part of you, every single inch, that I love you when you sing off-tune and I love you when you call me in the middle of the night" he laughed "That- that I wake up and go to sleep thinking of you- that without you I wouldn't know how to breathe, that since I met you, I felt the need to become a better person so that maybe I'd deserve you." he said more softly now "And I'm sorry about your parents, and I'm sorry about everything that happened in your life, but I promise you that I'd never do anything to hurt you, that if you just give me a chance, I'll try my hardest to prove to you that love is real, that- that it can last if you just give it a try"

The soft roar of an engine made its way to your ears as a car drove by outside, the fabric of the couch felt itchy all of a sudden, and your breathing had become uneven.

You didn't know how long you both stayed silent, how long it took you to take in all he had just said, but when you finally opened your mouth, your voice didn't sound like your own.

"Pedro-" his eyes were filled with hope, but yours only with pain "Pedro you know how I feel about this" you murmured, like doctors did just as they delivered bad news "I'm sorry I- I can't do this, you know I can't... I just-" there was this feeling in your stomach, like all your organs were twisting, like your body was telling you you were making a mistake "I don't want to lose you, and I know that if we did... this, it would only end badly" you watched all the hope in his eyes crumble and you didn't think you'd ever hated yourself more than in that exact moment.

"I'm sorry Pedro," you said "I can't"

He didn't look like himself anymore, he didn't feel like it either. He felt as if all the life had left his body, and all that remained was a useless sack of skin.

But still, still, he couldn't help but realize that you hadn't said one thing, the one thing that was gonna make him give up forever.

"So you don't feel the same way?"

It wasn't tears threatening to spill from your eyes, it was liquid pain, liquid hatred for yourself.

"T-that doesn't matter"

He frowned, trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't make him sound any more pathetic than he already was.

"B-but it does y/n. it does"

You swallowed thickly "Pedro, please" you begged

"I need to know," he said with a thread of voice 

"I-I can't" you murmured, as a tear finally stained your cheek "I..."

He took that as his answer.

You didn't love him, and deep down, he'd always known.

"I think-" he cleared his throat to try and gain some composure, "I think it's best if I go," he said as he stood up.

you didn't know if you nodded, you didn't know anything anymore

He glanced back at you for a moment to see if there was any sign of you wanting to stop him, but your head was down.

both of your hearts broke with each step he took, and as he got farther and farther, this... feeling spread inside your body, this presentiment of having just made the biggest mistake of your life sneaked up your throat and robbed you of all oxygen.

And was only when his fingers grabbed the doorknob, and you grasped his arm, that you could breathe again.

"y/n-" he tried to speak, but you needed to do this before your mind could catch up, so you cut him off.

"I do," you said, as more tears fell from your eyes "I love you, Pedro"

His mind was a mess and his heart was a mess but he still managed to spit out a sentence

"Y/n, if you're saying that just because-"

"Pedro" you softly placed your hands on each side of his head, as you huffed out a silly laugh "Just kiss me"

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #fluff #daddy pascal #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito

[yangsharperavery]

so here's the thing...

i've written about this topic a few times during and after season 1, but the carmy and sydney of it all remains a highly contested and discussed topic. even after season two.

what i find so truly fascinating is that chris storer and joanna calo and everyone involved with the creation of this lovely, well constructed show absolutely could have created the duo they work SO hard in the press to convince viewership they intended.

if they really wanted sydney to be a psuedo/standin sibling for the one carmy lost, or the brainy, determined business partner that comes in to orient a sinking ship...

there are a couple hundred ways they could have managed that and made it abundantly clear that's what the angle was within the dynamic between carmy and sydney.

instead... we have all this very overtly (and covertly) romantic, potent and simmering subtext regarding the nature of their relationship and what they mean to one another, their effect on each other and their seemingly endless potential.

in a whole host of ways there are a number of scenes that literally don't make sense without the lens of the undercurrent of feelings or reverence or romance or something that exists between them beyond the intended business partners/co-creatives.

there are ways to narratively parallel sydney as a mirror and equal and peer of carmy's void of all ambiguity and romantic tension and any energy of awkward longing or confusion.

but that's not actually what we got. i've been consuming television media for most of my life. i've watched hundreds of shows; shipping has never been a requirement for my viewership or interest.

which leads me to believe that there's either a bunch of deflection/dismissing happening for a very distinct reason. or there's been a bait and switch planned from the beginning.

you would literally have to remove 75% of the nuance within carmy and sydney's interactions for the stictly platonic claims to make sense and effectively land.

you'd have to go through and remove various staging, shot selection, editing, music choices and sometimes entire scenes to accurately convey original or "intended" messaging.

to completely eradicate the liminal space of subjectivity between them.

why is carmy talking about tina looking like sydney with that distinct expression on his face when they all wear that apron?

why are they being awkward at the lockers like it isn't customary for coworkers and business partners to go out after work for dinner or drinks or whatever (literally evidenced by tina this season)?

why is sydney mentioning jealousy at all when it comes to carmy's relationship? especially when it makes perfect sense for her to be upset with him for not pulling his weight?

why is sydney entering into carmy's life for the first time and deciding to stay, the second time, something that literally brings him out of his panic? when it could have been him cooking, his drawings, his staff, his gf. ANYTHING else.

they effectively made sydney an emotional, mental and energetic tether for him in that scene. for what reason? business partner ones or????

why do they bicker like an old married couple? is that customary for creative collaborators and coworkers?

why superimpose sydney, parallel her doing something the audience saw carmy do last season, and then show her going about her night while he's by contrast, with his girlfriend? why show a random closeup of a meaningful tattoo on her shoulder? no thematic significance beyond the grind of the restaurant world and career ambition?

why is there an obvious awkward breaking of energy after a highly vulnerable and tender moment between the two of them under the table? why does sydney noticeably fidget/adjust herself/her apron when he walks away to get her gift?

there's actually a hundred instances of these questions you could ask over the course of the two seasons when it comes to them.

so the reasoning behind the shipper pushback is baffling and a bit laughable.

some people bring into question, perhaps this is just the natural chemistry that jaw and ayo bring to their characters bc they're obviously good friends.

which... sure. i guess. but even that begs the question, you wrote and shot and constructed a story a specific way and then your two actors sort of bled on and expanded the material in a very obvious way you didn't expect?

cool, cool. so again... you're surprised that could lead to viewership seeing something deeper than mere platonic business partners?

that's shocking and surprising to you?

no way.

especially considering storer and calo have commented on how close jaw and ayo are and that their dynamic is different than the one she has with ebon and lionel. which is hilarious bc she adores ebon and has been out of the country traveling with lionel (and some other people from odd future.)

so clearly they all enjoy each other, are friends and get along.

but why even make that note of demarcation regarding jaw and ayo's dynamic and STILL be like "oh yeah, we didn't write or mean for them to be a romance " you're shocked that people SEE something given your storytelling and their obvious connection that even you, the creators themselves remarked on?!?!

there's a picture from the golden globes of ayo holding jaw's mom's hands during his acceptance speech. like they're really besties.

but i'm sorry, they can't bestie themselves into what carmy and sydney clearly exemplify on our screens without an entire framework at their disposal. because they're talented and professionals.

so if the writing is saying something, then it's intentional.

maybe the intention was to have their characters skirt and skate on the periphery of each other.

maybe it was for things to be awkward and weird and undefined or hectic and toxic.

maybe they weren't ever gonna have some relegated idea of a shipper's happily ever after.

people have feelings that go unexpressed and undefined. people fall in love and then don't end up together.

maybe the slow burn fizzles out, maybe it explodes or implodes, maybe one of them self denies, maybe they both do.

maybe it will or won’t be addressed directly or covertly. that's actually not a requirement for its existence.

to act like there isn't something true and obvious and visceral that exists between these characters is frankly like asking those who watch your show not to use their eyes and their brains.

impossible.

#sydcarmy #the bear fx #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #sydney adamu #let's act like we can all consume media and hold various elements and arcs and constructs within our minds

[devsgames]

Open-World AI Design: On The Conflict Between Systemic and Scripted Behaviours

I've been playing Skyrim recently, and having not played it for over a decade one thing that has really been standing out to me is how painfully stilted the scripted NPC interactions are in the game. Seeing just how rough these sequences are reminded me of my own experiences designing non-systemic moments in primarily systemic-open world games, and I wanted to reflect on that.

Disclaimer: I recognize that "Why does the AI in this open world game suck?!" is a common complaint The Gamers have and that it's not a new observation by any stretch, and please don't misconstrue me as bashing A Thing You Like. You can still like it. It's fine. I just think it's interesting how the needs and philosophy of open-world AI often encroach upon and affect the execution of highly scripted sequences in open-world games like these.

THE PROBLEM: SCRIPTED INTERACTIONS

Here's a clip of a sequence from my playthrough of Skyrim that illustrates part of the problem. For context, this sequence occurs at the end of a quest chain wherein you help an old and sick alchemist and his apprentice create an ancient artifact he's been trying to make for his entire life:

I think there's a lot of things that are incredibly lifeless (haha!) in the execution here:

The apprentice is standing at the foot of the bed and not next to it, while the mentor is sleeping on his side and not even looking at him.

The transition from Sleeping -> Ragdoll death when the mentor dies looks REALLY goofy.

The phial the apprentice explicitly mentioned as 'filling up' isn't visible anywhere in the scene at all.

The sudden transition from death -> NPC approach -> conversation leaves no room to organically breathe.

The narrative feels incredibly serious and sombre, but the execution is so hard to take seriously.

The ambient music is jaunty and heroic, when tonally the interaction is very sad.

The player doesn't really have much to do here, aside from stare in the corner while waiting for two AI to talk.

The narrative feels incredibly serious and sombre, but the execution is so whiplash-y and abrupt it's hard to take the outcome seriously.

Now first I want to preface that there's a few obvious causes for some of the awkward 'genericness' of this scene, much of which is rooted in more standard production/resources issues with any AAA open-world game. For example, creating an animation of someone holding the phial in question while it fills up would be too expensive to justify creating for just one side quest, only for it to never be used again. While it certainly doesn't help the sequence, I think there's always varying degrees of 'eh whatever it's a video game' plausible deniability that happen here among players too, and it's always understandable that elements like these might fall absent from this scene as a result. It's also a dang video game from 2011, so that certainly doesn't help.

Aside from that, I think a big issue in realizing scripted sequences in open world games like this stems primarily from open-world AI and interactions are often fundamentally at odds with these types of scripted scenes, which in turn reflect poorly on the implementation of the latter.

WHY SYSTEMIC AI?

To understand why scripted sequences can easily feel stunted it's helpful to look at what an AI in an open world context is most frequently expected to do, because it's the baseline of how an AI performs in an open-world game.

In a traditional game a "bandit" AI might only really need to do basic behaviours that have concrete and easily-defined outcomes, such as search for a player and attack them until they die.

In an open-world game like Skyrim an AI primarily has to act believably in an open world where almost anything is liable to happen. A "bandit" in an open-world context would need to keep a running track who is hostile and who is friendly (based on a variety of different changing parameters), pick and choose different locations to travel from organically, travel to potentially unknown locations across a persistent world, use modular systemic behaviours in a way that still appear organic and unique, remember which points it needs to be travelling to and from, what areas it can and cannot go, flee from combat, understand what objects in the world it can and can't interact with, and a lot lot more on top of that. What's more is every AI in the game have to run these same calculations themselves at all time about everything around them - there's a ton of moving parts and AI with different objectives and executions operating at the same time. This is also why systemic AI in open-world games tend to suck - because an open world is inevitably going to write realism cheques that no AI can feasibly cash because there's so much going on in an open-world game.

However there's also good reason why all this complexity is necessary! Killing a bandit who is stationed idly at a guard post in his camp is passable encounter, but killing a bandit who accidentally draws aggression from a patrolling sabre cat from the forest nearby his guard post creates a story out of what was otherwise just an okay encounter. These systemic behaviours are often what people like and expect to see in open-world games to give the world flavour.

On Far Cry there was a name for this sort of concept: the "anecdote factory" - the idea that any sort of emergent experience should make up a fun 'anecdote' for people to talk about and reflect on afterwards, and this approach to AI design is usually built to supports those systemic and organic narratives. This systemic-first AI design is a large draw of what makes open-world games what they are - without this the whole world easily can feel rigid, predictable, and lifeless.

Now this is all well and good, I hear you say, but weren't you just complaining about scripted sequences? Why are you talking about systemic AI? How are these two even related to each other?

Well herein lies the issue: what happens when your immensely systems-based AI needs to do one hyper-specific thing exactly as you planned?

THE FRICTION: SYSTEMIC VS. SCRIPTED

Scripted AI design is often a philosophical counter to systems-driven AI - while a systemic open-world AI needs to calculate many different elements and act out generic AI behaviours on the fly, scripted AI often needs to successfully do a sequence of bespoke behaviours the same way every single time, usually in relation to a larger narrative or sequence.

This causes friction - potentially a lot of friction, depending on the implementation.

The initial assumption most people would have is that if a designer really needs an AI to do one thing perfectly, then they should just force the AI to do it! After all, if it's that important, then why not make absolutely sure it gets done? However, the problem with this approach is that forcing an open-world AI to do just one thing actually makes the AI less realistic in context of an open world game.

In the above scene lets say the player hates the apprentice and decides to blast the apprentice with a fireball while he was speaking to his master. They'd then logically expect the apprentice to react to being hurt by the player and become hostile (as anyone would be, if hit with a fireball). This would be expected to break the sequence as combat would ensue as the apprentice tries to get revenge. This is believable, as it would make the apprentice feel more like an actual human being with the desire to not die. If by contrast the apprentice was forcibly scripted to perform his lines and execute the behaviour like nothing happened, it would feel even worse! This is why most open-world games will actually almost never force AI to perform scripted behaviours if they can help it, because it usually reflects poorly on the intelligence of your AI should anything else happen during the execution of the event.

Unfortunately, the tradeoff to ensuring scripted AI still abide by systemic rules is it means that scripted AI are now expected to perform actions are now operating at the whim of systems, which may choose to override it at any time. For example, if the systemic AI overrides the scripted component of the AI, the apprentice may get distracted by something (a passing enemy, a wandering animal, a stray arrow from nearby combat, etc.) and not complete the sequence as it was intended. This might not seem like a major issue, but keep in mind that a scripted AI failing to perform a task usually results in a sequence break - which in terms of scripted sequences can break a player's entire playthrough. It also reflects poorly on narrative, when scenes of narrative importance might be undermined by systemic nonsense that may happen.

Whenever mission designers witnessed these sort of behaviours on Far Cry the inside joke was that we were just abiding by the "anecdote factory" philosophy. After all, the AI was acting systemically by-design - it just so happened that the anecdote was that a systemic behaviour distracted them. :)

In fact on the production of Far Cry 6 I spent actual months troubleshooting and wrangling AI that just would not adhere to scripted sequences due to the overriding of systemic AI behaviours. For every minute you spend in a scripted sequence you can bet there was hours and hours and hours of unseen troubleshooting behind it!

Now what does any of this have to do with how awkward this conversation looks?

The philosophy of your game design extends downward, and systems-driven is no exception. Instead of using special, bespoke behaviours in quests it becomes cheaper and safer to bank on existing systemic that are widely tested instead of trying to push the limits of what an AI can do. Remember that a sequence failing to execute can block a player's progression entirely, or alternatively result in a ton of work or additional bugs for a level designer putting them together. Safe execution is usually the #1 priority, and that's a tough thing when lots of your scripted implementation is relying on the tech equivalent of shoestring and bubblegum holding it all together.

Even this small scene reflects the drawbacks of a systems-driven philosophy. A good example here is when the mentor dies - he doesn't smoothly transition into a 'death' state, or lie still with his eyes closed, or something more appropriate. Instead, he pops into a ragdoll and plays his generic death sound effect, because his AI is adopting the same generic systemic 'death' actions any AI in the game would. It's how an AI was designed to die from the ground up across the board, so this AI has to die like that for the rest of the game's systems to properly work around it. It could look cleaner, it could look nicer, but for a scripted sequence in a system-driven game it just needs to work.

You'll also notice the apprentice doesn't have any particular uniqueness to his behaviours around the master. He doesn't kneel next to the bed, or do much else for that matter - he just plays his idle on a point until the scripted sequence tells him not to. In fact outside of combat in Skyrim you'll notice that most NPCs use these generic animations because they're built into the AI and are the most likely animation to work in the widest number of cases. In fact, I could probably list the most commonly used animations in Skyrim based on how many times I saw them while playing. A Quest Designer could try to spice a scene up or add variety, but most of the time that would create unnecessary risk around these sequences, so in most instances safe and universal generics are the way to go - which unfortunately limits visual interest because they don't adapt well to unique contexts (like the death of a loved one).

Even something seemingly small like changing music - if we ignore the cost of creating new songs - can bring unnecessary risk. Music is also handled systemically by the game's systems, transitioning based on environment and combat with different enemy factions, so overriding that to play unique songs brings even further risk on a scripted setup - what if combat breaks out during the sequence? Or if the overridden music isn't correctly reverted back by the system? The safer option is to work closer to the bare minimum (i.e. leave the music as-is) than it is to actually push the envelop a bit and bring on further risk.

Conclusion

Thanks for reading! Hopefully this sheds a bit of light on how scripted interactions are uniquely affected by systemic design philosophy and some of the drawbacks surrounding it. I feel fairly confident that any open-world game has had to deal with the friction between these two approaches and needed to meet an awkward middle ground as a result. After all, it's sorta an inevitability when you're making massive games intended to mimic a believable world.

#I spent too long on this I hope it made sense at least #gamedev #game development #game dev #skyrim #bethesda #gamedevelopment #game design #video game #analysis #blog #thoughts