#this was so much better in my head though the execution is kinda | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jangofettjamz · 4 months

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Confessions

Jenna Ortega x Autistic!Male!Reader

Summary: Unexpected events bring you and Jenna a lot closer

Warnings: Abelism

Words: 4430

A/N: You are Emma myers' twin in this fic.

Y/N pov

It's been too long since I've seen Emma. I'm so proud of my twin sister, she's come so far with her career and now she's in a Tim Burton production, like WHAT?!

Emma's so talented and she deserves every amount of success and fortune the world has to give, she's earned that much.

She's currently filming in Romania for her new show "Wednesday", a spinoff show based on the famous addams family, and specifically the daughter of the family: "Wednesday Addams"; played by Jenna Ortega.

I was invited to come and visit her and the cast and crew on set, flight and accommodation paid for and all. Though I was hesitant, being this far away from home wasn't entirely appealing at first, but I couldn't squander the opportunity to see my sister.

However, that's not the only reason I wanted to go. As luck would have it, I've had a crush on Jenna Ortega for a long time and Emma knew this. She visited our home a few times when Emma and her were getting to know each other. Emma had to introduce me to her as she knows I'm not the best at conversation, especially when meeting new people.

We've talked a little everytime she visited, but I was always too shy to say anything other than a few meger words. I never really got to know her as a person.

She assures me she's the most kind and gentle person she's ever known, I would never doubt my sisters word but it still doesn't put me at ease. Social interaction has never been easy for me, no matter how nice or kind the person I'm talking to is.

My sister has been my number one supporter, and I hers. She's never outed my condition to anyone and assured me she'd never tell Jenna if I didn't want her to know, she's always got my back no matter what and I'm beyond thankful for that.

My driver that was assigned to me dropped me off at the sets parking area, not far from the cast's trailers.

"We've arrived sir, Mr Burton will be waiting by the trailers for you." Sir? Gosh that makes me feel so imperial, like an important executive or something, I dunno.

"I er-thank you" I say nervously, my socially awkward nature getting the better of me. I got out of the black SUV and walked to the trailer.

I felt like an outsider here, like I didn't belong so kept my hands in my sleeves and my head down.

There's camera crews here, some extras to fill the background, I even see some of them in cast, but decided not to interact with them. They didn't know me and would probably think I'm some random weirdo who shouldn't be here.

I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but people have been cruel to me in the past just for trying to talk to them. That's always been my main deterrent from social interaction; the fear of what people will think of me.

These negative thoughts were starting to send me spiralling so I blocked them out for now, making my way to the trailers. I can't wait to see Emma.

I'm at the trailer area and see a man with unkempt hair and tinted glasses leaning against a trailer door, is that... TIM BURTON?! I knew I was gonna meet him but it's kinda unreal when you meet an icon such as him in person.

A smile formed on his face and he made his way towards me, my eyes avert his figure as my nerves began to set in. "Hello Y/N, it's good to finally meet you, your sister holds you in such high esteem." He says offering me a hand to shake.

Emma's been talking about me? To Tim Burton? Good things I hope. "I-I It's nice to meet you to Mr Burton, it's an honor to be here." I say nervously, shaking his hand and meeting his gaze with a nervous smile.

He chuckles "Please just Tim, no need for formalities. You're among friends here, Y/N."

I didn't understand, what did he mean I was among friends? He's just met me and he's nicer than most people have been to me throughout my entire life.

Though puzzling this maybe, I couldn't help but smile at being accepted for once among a group. It felt liberating.

"C'mon let's go meet the cast, I know two that have been dying to meet you." Two? I know Emma is one, but two? Who could possibly want to see me.

I followed to a trailer not far from where we met. I see a coat hanging from the railing of the trailer's steps, that's Emma's coat.

Tim gives me a warm smile and says "She's waiting for you kiddo, she'll be very happy to see you again." I nod and smiled back. I reach for the door know and open the door to the trailer, I see a girl with blonde hair and coloured highlights, is that...

"Emma?" She turns to face me. A smile forms on her face, an smile I would recognise anywhere.

"Y/N/N!!!!" She rushes towards me and tackles me to the ground in a hug, making yelp in the process. Usually this sort of surprising affection would make me nervous, but it was my sister so I all it. Besides I missed her dearly.

I reciprocated the hug, though it was difficult seeing as I was on the ground. "Hi sis', you missed me that much?" I ask playfully while standing back to my feet.

"Like you wouldn't believe, I miss all of you. How have you been?" She asks me, she knows about my struggles and I'm glad she still cares.

"Umm... things have been okay. Socialising is still really difficult, I almost didn't come here because of the distance. You know how much I hate being away from home" she gives a smile of sympathy and rubs my shoulder to comfort.

"But you still did it and I'm so proud of you for taking that step. You're still with family here in Romania, Jenna is excited to see you too, she's so lovely Y/N, you should get to know her" talk to Jenna Ortega? My stomach turns from nervousness.

The door to the trailer suddenly opens, a small Latin girl appears sporting black pigtails and black blazer. Jenna Ortega.

It's not surprising that she's here, she's playing the main character of the show after all. However, it's still messing with my mind that I'm standing in front of MY crush. I didn't know if I was just lucky, or if the universe just wanted me to humiliate myself in front of my crush.

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts when she turned to me after she stopped talking to Emma. My twin did me a solid and introduced her to me so I didn't have to talk, she knows I don't have great speaking abilities when I meet new people.

She started her introduction "Jenna, you remember Y/N right? My other half." She says which makes Jenna laugh.

"Hi Y/N, it's so nice to see you again. Emma talks about you all the time" Of course she does. I shyly wave at her, averting eye contact away from her, my nerves completely taking over.

She stepped closer to me "Hey, are you okay?" She says sweetly, Emma's right she is really nice. I nod my head to reassure that I'm okay, even though I'm most definitely not and Emma knew this.

The trailer door opened again revealing a tall, dirty blonde guy with long hair. I had never seen him before, he didn't look very nice.

"Hey Jenna, Emma" he says happily, then his eyes fall to me. "Who's this?" He says, his voiced indicating his clear annoyance by my presence.

"Hey percy, this is my twin brother, Y/N" I shyly wave at him, he scoffs and moves swiftly to talk to Jenna. What a dick.

Emma's phone rings "Ah shit, guys I have a scene to do. Please look after him and get to know each other, love you Y/N" she says kissing me on the cheek. Great, now I'm left with two people I don't know, one being my crush, the other, a massive dickhead. Great.

I sit down on the couch behind me, Jenna taking a seat next to me much to percy's dismay. I start playing with my hands, something I do when I'm very nervous. Jenna picked up on this so she decided to ask me a question to ease the tension.

"So Y/N, do you have any interests or hobbies?" She's says to me with a smile, that same sweet tone still consistent.

I started "I-I like movies, I'm a massive horror fan. I build legos, play video games as a hobbie, and do programming as a side job. I find the arithmetic nature of programming to be quite fascinating, keeps my brain constantly at work." I say quietly.

She started to speak again "Programming? Wow you must be quite intelligent to do that" I shrug, my lack of confidence really shining through.

Percy scoffs "Jeez do you just sit there looking depressed all the time." I gave him a pleading look, I didn't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

"N-no I didn't mean t-to--" I cut myself off, not wanting to embarrass myself anymore than I just did. I don't even know what I did wrong, just goes to show my complete lack of social awareness.

But something unexpected happened "Percy, why are you being such an asshole. He's just shy and that's fine. He didn't do anything wrong." She actually came to my aid and defended me.

"I heard he was autistic, Jenna. I overheard Emma talking to him on the phone one time. He's a freak." The moment I heard the word freak my eyes started to tear up, sniffles followed afterwards.

I started to hastily rock myself as a grounding technique, a shaky breath came from my mouth trying to contain the tears within.

Jenna was standing there with a her phone out recording the whole thing, I thought she was doing this to laugh at with percy later, however what happened next changed that theory.

Jenna slapped the smirk off his face, he was on the ground and fear replaced his shit-eating grin. I could see the fear flashing in his eyes as Jenna loomed over him, a fiery anger in her brown orbs.

She raised her right hand and pointed at him while speaking "Don't you ever say that again you abelist dick. Even if he is autistic, I would never think that as a bad thing. Get out Percy, once I show this recording to Tim, you are done" she says calmly, yet angrily simultaneously.

He didn't need to be told twice as he stumbled out the door; fear still emanated from his person after the bitch slap he received.

Jenna POV

What an asshole, like seriously how the fuck could anyone be so shallow to immediately hate someone because they're different. Fuck that guy honestly, the moment we're done filming I'm cutting contact with him completely.

Y/N looked destroyed, I'd seen him a handful of times and this is the longest interaction we've had, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless. I wanted to comfort him since Emma was busy filming. I sat down next to him and started to talk.

"Y/N it's okay now, he's gone and if he knows what good for him, he won't come back." He nodded, seemingly no change was made to his demeanour. I decided a more physical approach was necessary.

"Y/N can I touch you?" He hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded. I touched his shoulder, my thumb rubbing in circles. "Are you autistic, Y/N? It's okay you can tell me, I know you don't know me but I promise I would never judge you, never ever."

I hope he knows my words are genuine, perhaps even comforting. He gives me with one more glance before signing under his breath then nodding, confirming what percy had told me. He shouldn't have outed Y/N like that, it's his right to tell me when or if he even wanted to in the first place.

"You're so brave, you know that?" He looked at me confused. I continued speaking "You're braver than you know sweetheart, I'm so sorry that we had to meet again under these circumstances but I want you to know that I'm so proud of you. I can only imagine how hard it must've been to come here so far away from home, only to be ridiculed by some asshole who doesn't know his head from his own ass." He laughs, making me smile knowing I'm doing something right.

I make a solemn vow to him "I swear to you, that recording I took will be shown to Tim and the producers, he will be dealt with accordingly. I promise you." Percy will not go unpunished for this.

"We've only met a couple times, but you're bravest and sweetest person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I can tell that everything you're sister told me about you is true." I wipe his tears from his face with my thumb, his eyes still glassy and red from the crying.

"Why are you so nice to me? You don't even know me." He says barely above a whisper.

"Because unlike Percy, I accept you for who you are and I'll help you whenever you need me. I'm with you now Y/N and I'm not going anywhere." His lips begin to quiver, indicating that he's about to cry again.

"Would you like a hug?" I ask, unsure if that amount of physical touch is something he would want. He nods and I open my arms for him "c'mere honey" he fell into my arms, head on my shoulder as his tears shower my Wednesday outfit, but I couldn't care less.

His arms wrapped tight around me, my arms securely around him. I began to rock him gently to comfort him, my hand carding through his hair. "Shhhh, you're safe now honey, it's just me and you, nobody else. I'm so sorry for what happened but I promise you that everything's gonna be okay, I'm not leaving you."

I feel something for this boy, and I know he feels something for me, Emma may or may not have told me about the crush he has on me. I didn't make him feel embarrassed, now's not the time.

"I-I shouldn't have come h-here, e-everyone hates me!" My heart broke hearing those words. Percy had destroyed his self-esteem with his heartless words, his confidence had vanished into the aether.

I held him tighter against me, wanted him to feel all the affection I can give to counter his negative thoughts. "Nobody hates you Y/N, I certainly don't and neither do your sisters and parents". Percy's words were awful and further projects his insecurities."

"He's right though, I'm am a freak. Emma's normal, my other sisters are normal, my parents too. I can't socialise properly, can't read social cues, I'm only good at messing things up! I'm useless!" He was shaking violently, a barrage of new tears came streaming down his cheeks, Percy was going to pay for what he's done.

I lift his face from my shoulder, holding his cheeks in both my hands. "You are not useless! You're anything but useless! You're incredible Y/N, just like your sister and I've got your back just like I've got hers. Percy is done after today, mark my words."

He smiles at my words, convinced by them even. "You wanna know something?" He looks at me with intrigue. "I've admired you since the day we met, you're so beautiful, sweet and kind. You're not useless at all, you're perfect, just the way you are."

"Everytime your sister talks about you I listen to her in awe of you, you're an amazing person sweetheart, don't ever let someone make you think otherwise." I say with sincerity.

He looked shocked. "You're just saying that." He says not believing me.

"Can I prove it?" I ask a little nervously. He nods and I ask him another question. "Can I kiss you?" A bold move by me but he needed to know just how serious I am.

His cheeks turn a bright pink, very much akin to a rose. He nods and I lean in the kiss his lips softly, a gentle kiss to show him my intention are indeed pure. "I like you alot Y/N, and I'd love to be a part of your life from now on, If you'll have me."

He smiled, genuine and real "I like you too, Jenna. I'd love to have you in my life." I take him back in my arms, in the position we were previously in, rocking him gently in my arms. His eyes began to droop a little, he looked exhausted from all the crying.

"You can fall asleep if you want, just relax darling, everything's gonna be okay now." We sat on the couch, his head on my chest, my arms locked around his figure. "There there, you're okay darling" I cooed softly.

His eyes shut, nothing was heard expect the soft breaths coming from his nose. I kissed his temple and let him sleep until Emma returned from filming, she need to know the truth.

- 2 hours later

I've been catching up on breaking bad while Y/N has been sleeping peacefully on my chest, really good show this is. My hand has been absentmindedly carding through his hair.

God he looks so adorable, I never want to let go of him. I'm honored that he trusts me enough to be apart of his life, to be his girlfriend, an honor I certainly don't take for granted.

The door to the trailer opens, Emma walking through the entrance. She was shocked to see the position me and Y/N laid in, though this was expected as she didn't know what had transpired a couple hours ago.

"We need to talk" I say, she looked at confused but nodded. I began to get up as gently as possible to not wake up Y/N, though it was more tricky than anticipated. He groaned sleepily, not completely aware of his surroundings.

I put him at ease, "it's okay honey, I'll be back don't worry" his body eased at the words and untensed around me, allowing me to lift his head off my chest without waking him. Emma and I walked out of the trailer and gently shut the door behind us, it was time she learned the truth.

"What happened in there?" She asked with concern.

"Watch this video" I show her the recording on my phone, the horror she felt was palpable, her own brother being reduced to tears; by her own co-star no less. "I'm so sorry, Emma" was all I could say.

She turned to me and embraces me in a hug which I returned immediately. "Thank you for helping him, he won't ever forget what you did for him" her voice wobbly, she was crying. "I should've been there to stop him! He's gonna pay for this!" She storms off, presumably to find percy.

I chase after her, jesus she's fast "Emma wait!" I called out but she didn't falter in her movements, she was on a mission to find the asshole who hurt her brother.

After about 5 minutes of searching we found Percy talking with Tim as if he did nothing 2 hours prior, we stormed towards him. Percy's noticed us walking towards him, fear replaced his expression, Tim however was more confused by our angered demeanour.

"YOU ASSHOLE! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT TO HIM, HE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!" Emma exclaimed, tears falling fast down her face. "HE'S THE SWEETEST PERSON IN THE WORLD AND YOU DESTROYED HIM! WHAT FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU! She sobs out, I rubbed her back in comfort.

Tim looked even more confused now "What's going on, Percy what is she talking about?" He says raising an eyebrow, demanding to know what happened.

I answer for him, leaving no chance for Percy to alter the truth in any way. "Watch this video, Tim." He watched the video of what went, disgust was etched onto his face, all the while I was staring down the asshole who caused this mess. The look on his face is priceless, as though his career had flashed before his eyes.

Tim finished the video and turned to percy, inhaling before he spoke. "Percy once you're scenes are finished, you're done, fired. You have no future here." He says coldly, disappointment lacing his rough tone. "You will be paid for your work, but we will cease all contact after that."

Percy was distraught, he begged and pleaded for Tim to reconsider "Please Tim, I'm sorry I really am! It's was just a joke!" Emma was disgusted with him, so was I.

Emma was face to face with percy, she may have been shorter, but her anger made her far more imposing. "I'm not a violent person percy, but if you EVER say or even look at my brother in a way I find offensive ever again, you will be dealing with a far different side of me." He gulped and nodded, knowing better than to test her.

She continued "For your sake, I will not leak those videos, but so help me god I will not hesitate to ruin your life if you step out of line again." And with that she walks off to see her brother.

I walk up to Percy and warn him one final time "Be thankful you're only losing a Job opportunity Percy. Make no mistake, if you make any attempt to contact me, Emma, or dear Y/N, I will leak those videos to everyone and destroy your life within seconds. Do you understand me?" He nodded and I walk away with the knowledge that Percy Hynes White is a coward.

I return to the trailer to find Emma and Y/N talking about what went down with him and Percy "No matter what Y/N, I'll always protect you from people like him, and so will Jenna" he looks over to me and I offer a gentle, reassuring smile and sit down next to him. I kiss his cheek and pulled his head onto my chest and pressed play on the TV.

"So what did I miss with you two?" Emma asks playfully and we both laughed uncontrollably, forgetting the last few hours for a while with laughter and love.

- 9 months later

Wednesday was a massive hit with critics and viewers, my career has skyrocketed to heights I never thought imaginable. Though, I never let that inflate my ego and become someone who I depised, you know who I'm referring to.

Percy was promptly fired after he finished all of his scenes, nor was he allowed to attend any of the press events to promote the show. He hasn't tried to contact me or any of my friends, the first smart decision he's made.

Y/N and I are still going strong, though I wouldn't have doubted that for a second. Like I said to him all those months ago, he's perfect just the way he is.

Socialising is still a struggle for him, so is communicating with me sometimes. However, I vowed to help him and understand his condition, to guide him in a world that misunderstood him.

He's laying on my chest, me stroking his hair. He's asleep after coming with me to a press junket to promote the show. Even if he's behind the cameras, his support is so appreciated.

Emma has been so supportive of our relationship, which is great because I would've hated things to be awkward between, and potentially ruin Y/N's relationship with her.

Fans of mine have began to notice Y/N after his appearance at the premiere, the Internet practically exploded when they saw us hand in hand. Y/N isn't fond of the attention but loves the nice comments people have left, any boost to his self esteem he cherishes.

Suddenly the phone rang, it was Tim Burton, probably discussing plans for season 2. I picked up the phone, being careful not to wake Y/N.

"Hello Jenna, is Y/N with you?" He says. What could he want with Y/N?

"Yeah I'll get him" I gently shake him to wake him up. He groaned as I shook "Babe wake up someone's on the phone for you" he rose from my chest and groggily took the phone from my hand.

"Hello, Y/N speaking" he says lowly.

He talks with tim, his groggy expression is replaced with shock, a stark contrast from earlier.

"Yes ill talk with her about it" talk with me about what? What is Tim planning?

"Thank you I'll see you soon" he hung up and turned to me, a smile etched onto his face like he just won the lottery.

"What?" I say laughing

He opened his mouth, only to stutter when trying to form words. He eventually got his words out "He wants me to replace Percy as Xavier" I scream out of excitement and he quickly covered his ears.

"You're gonna do great, I'll be right there with you" his smile is replaced with worry.

"What if they don't like me as Xavier? What if my acting is bad? I have no acting experience, Jenna. What am I gonna do?" He starts to ramble a bit so I kissed him, calming his nerves within an instant.

He drew back for air and reassured him "You're gonna be great babe, way better than Percy, I guarantee that." I pulled him back to a kiss.

The kiss turned more passionate, only pulling back for pockets of air. "You're so beautiful baby, my beautiful boy" he blushes intensly at my praise. "I love you Y/N, so so much" I say breathlessly. He picks me up while kissing me, leading me to the bedroom. I would love to describe how the rest of our day was spent...

But some things are best kept secret... if you know what I mean. ; )

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #male reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x y/n #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter x you

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dearhargrove · 6 months

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"You have to shoot them in the head, or they always come back."

Ethan Landry x f!reader (not specified I think tho)

summary You knew you had to do this, he was a killer. You had to end this when you had the chance. But standing here with a gun to your boyfriend's head - no matter what he's done - you couldn't bring yourself to do it.

word count 1,200

warnings swearing, talk of killing someone, spoilers for scream 6, VERY immoral & unrealistic but it's fanfiction soo

a/n I'm not that happy with this so it's kinda a WIP. But just… posted. If this does get some notes; thank you for reading! I promise my other stuff is better.

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You had thought out all kinds of possible outcomes to the plan of waiting out Ghostface at the shrine of the two students (whose names you'd already forgotten). However, not once had you considered having to execute your boyfriend.

Beneath you lay Ethan, blood pooling from his mouth and brown puppy eyes watery and bloodshot.

Sam and Tara were fighting the only other remaining person behind the recent murders, Detective Bailey.

It had all happened too fast; Sam hit Ethan in the head with a brick before she and Tara tried making an escape through the emergency exit. In the chaos of the past moments you'd simply stood to the side, shocked that the boy you loved and had spent your past months with was the one behind the mask.

A whimper of your name pulls you out of your thoughts and your eyes clear, focusing on the curly haired boy beneath you.

There were tears running down his cheeks, chin quivering and gaze pleading, "Please… don't do this."

You shake your head to try and keep the empathy from overpowering your rationality. "Ethan, I have to…You have to shoot them in the head, or they always come back," you recall with a shaking voice.

You didn't want to do this. You wanted to go home and cuddle with your boyfriend who wasn't a killer. He shakes his head and winces, weakly clutching a hand to your pants. Your knees are shaky so you end up sinking to kneel next to his heaving chest, his hand falling to your thigh instead.

The gun in your hand is still aimed in his direction, safety off.

"Come on, baby, please," he begs, trying to look into your eyes but you avoid his gaze and look to the blood stained floor. "Ethan, you killed people I can't-," a sob leaves your mouth and you clutch your free hand over it to stop your crying.

He sobs as well and shakes his head as well as he can, "No, no, no..! I didn't want to. I didn't wanna do this. Believe me!" He cries and your heart breaks a little more. Just from the way Bailey talked earlier and totally dismissed Ethan you had a good guess at their relationship and how much Ethan had wanted to do what he's done.

You purse your lips and sniff, looking back at him. "Explain. Why did you do it then?" He breathes raggedly but he'd be able to survive - if you let him. He swallows and tries calming his breathing, hand still on your thigh.

"He- Dad made me. I just wanted him to be proud of me. Like he was always proud of… Richie," he admits, the name of his deceased brother a painful whisper. You pull your eyebrows together in confusion and wait for him to continue. His face is scrunched up - whether from the physical pain he was feeling or from the memories he was recounting.

"He told me if I wanted to be as good as Richie I had to do what he said. Follow the plan." He slowly looks at you again, pausing for a few seconds. He reaches out with his blood coated hand and clings to yours, fingers closing around your pinky and ring finger.

He felt relief and a sliver of hope fill his chest when you let him hold your hand, his thumb resting on the promise ring on your ring finger he had gotten you not too long ago.

He averts his eyes again and continues explaining, though his voice seems to get weaker by the minute. "I did everything but… killing. Quinn did that. We would switch after I chased them somewhere she could.. finish it." He winces again.

"I didn't kill anyone except Anika. And that was an accident. I didn't want to make her fall, I just wanted her to struggle! I didn't want to kill her, you have to believe me! I didn't want to," he whimpers and tears start running down his cheeks again.

You sigh and let your head fall, chin touching your chest. He deserved to pass away here, with the rest of his family.

But you love him. And no matter how many times you recall him and what he did while wearing the mask you can't bring yourself to pull the trigger.

You put the safety back on the gun and push it far enough away from you. "I should kill you," you remind him with a quiet voice. He nods and fully turns his head to look at you. He calls your name but you don't want to look up; you know you would fold at the sight of his brown eyes.

He says your name again, almost pleading now. It makes your heart ache so you look up and into his eyes. He grunts painfully as he scoots back and sits up against a display case, when he's sat up straight he reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek. His palm is cold and shaky, blood making his grip slippery.

"I love you. You made me feel like I could-" he chokes and coughs, spitting some blood to the side before he keeps talking, "-like I could be enough by just… being myself. I fell for you. So hard."

You're looking into each other's eyes when he finishes his confession, "I can't live without you. I don't want to. So please tell me you won't leave me after this."

You grimace. He may have done way less than all of you originally thought but he still ended the life of Mindy's girlfriend and one of your closest friends. You knew he felt guilty. You could see the regret and pain from knowing he had caused her fall.

But none of that cancels out that he did it.

"I love you. And… maybe I can forgive you someday. But, Ethan… Even if the others also forgive you, Mindy never will. And she has every right not to."

He nods and you both pretend not to have heard his slight whimper at your first sentence. "I need you to forgive me. I can't keep going without you…" he says again and your chest throbs. You're torn between what you want and what you should want and do.

Noone in their right mind would forgive him or even let him live. But you were in love and too empathetic for your own good. Sighing defeatedly you lean into his palm and look into his eyes, "You have one chance to make it up to me. To everyone. If they accept you is up to them, not me."

He sighs out in relief, another tear escaping him as he mumbles 'thank you's under his breath.

#ethan kirsch #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #scream iv #scream #ghostface x reader #ghostface #slasher x reader #jack champion x reader #jack champion

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b00tyliciousbabe · 8 months

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my baby daddies - ep. 1

my comeback era xx

arón piper x male reader

summary: inside edition the slutty thoughts i have for mr piper xx

notes: hi ppl, hope y’all missed me. i’m back, after like a year of hibernation, with another imagine! hope you guys are all doing well <3 i will be releasing 2 other series (‘the DILFs’ and a surprise one 🤭) so stay tuned! plus y’all better thank me, I lost this draft not once, but TWICEEEE! happy with this iteration though.

apologies in advance y’all this is gonna be chaotic…and my spanish is very rusty.

you met arón on the set of ‘elite’ because you were in between working with the hair and makeup team whilst designing the costumes. You had familiarised yourself with the entire crew and made loads of friends but from day 1 it was clear that your connection with him was unparalleled. the pinnacle of romantic chemistry. it’s giving one of those moments in the films when the two lovers have their meet cute, staring into each others eyes and the rest of the world is just in their peripheral because at that moment only two people exist - you and him. From then on, the whole crew shipped you guys together, with your work besties ester (who plays carla) and mina (who plays nadia) urging you to make out with him. He too was not exempt from this teasing, and a lot of his fellow male cast mates lowkey pressured him to ask you out. Whilst the premiere was coming up, you began sorting out the final designs for the next season, he ran into the studio wearing nothing but calvin briefs.

“Y/N, you’ve gotta help me.” He said desperately. You were taken aback. You’d never seen someone look so hot while they were needy.

“hey arón, what seems to be the problem?” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “can’t you see I’m practically naked?” You bit your lips taking in all of him “failing to see the issue here” which garnered a chuckle from him. “please y/n i’m so lost right now, i have no clue what to do” arón began panting which made you panic a lil bit. Placing your hands on his chest, you calmed his beating heartbeat “it’s okay, you know i’ve got you” Pulling one of your personal designs from the rack, you dressed him like he was your ken doll.

“i can do my own buttons you know,” he smiled watching you concentrate and manipulate the fabric to accentuate his features “i know but you wouldn’t be able to execute the vision i had for you in my mind” his eyes softened “you base your designs off me?” you looked up and met his gaze. “i’m not tryna give you a big head or anything, because it’s already quite elliptical, but kinda i guess.” he giggled as you watched his smile make his face look even cuter. “awww you got a lil crush on me,” aròn chuckled as you playfully beat his chest. “i mean, you’re handsome af I’ll give you that,” you felt his chest heaving with passion “why do you ask?” aròn held both your hands stopping you from working. “y/n,” you look up, all doe-eyed, surprised at the lack of distance between your lips. he breathed closer, opening the gates to your mouth as he graced you with a peck that lasted what felt like ages. the rest was history; that night he debuted the two of you as a couple to which was met with so much love.

you are at your gushiest whenever aròn smiles. it just makes you feel so happy seeing him so cute and all. stroking his cheek in the morning staring at him grinning in his sleep - probably dreaming of you.

the art of communication has always been strong in your relationship. your spanish-german bf was trilingual and meeting you pushed him to learn more on the side. your spanish was decent, certainly nothing to be proud but it improved drastically working on the show and being with aron. you were also highly proficient in two other languages and so he was adding to your roster. your relationship with him was a testament to the betterment of both people in a couple, you both pushed each other to try new things.

aron’s love language is definitely physical touch closely followed by gift giving, and so it made sense that he would buy you jewellery (even giving you his own) so he could both adore and adorn you. your favourite present he’s ever given you was the ‘A’ necklace he flaunts in a lot of his insta posts. he just loves seeing it around your neck - he’s yours. he even has an ‘A’ tattoo that now always reminds him of you.

even in the bedroom the necklace pays a huge role:

“my pretty little muñequita, fuck you feel so good.” he praised, railing you painstakingly slowly in missionary. you watched his eyes mirroring your overstimulated expression, as it darkened with his desire for more. you moved to his necklace which swung gracefully with every deep thrust. “ughhh” aròn’s moans got even loader you picked the pendant up and put it in between his teeth to muffle him. the sweat began to drip off his face as he began to imprint his teeth into the crystals, groaning in pleasure. “Nghhhh nghhh nghhh” it was getting too much for him as he dropped it, all red, hot, and bothered, directly into your mouth. You bit it seductively making your bf smile. other times when he’s hitting it from the back in prone bone, your hot bodies are cooled by the ice around his neck providing an amazing sensation when he spurts his warm cum inside you.

aròn is pretty decently hung, a bit on the skinnier side, nothing monstery, but deffo larger than average and it bends to the left. his favourite position is probably missionary; he wants to see the pleasure he’s giving you. the moans, your eyes, your lips, he wants to soak it all up and treasure every single expression you make whilst he’s inside you. you really like cowgirl as you’ve noticed it gets the most laughs and smiles from him, your biggest weakness. aròn loves it as well. the sight of you holding his pecs, bouncing up and down his pole as he grabs your ass sends him into overdrive. “shit mi amor, ughh, fuck, you sure know how to ride my dick.”

his kryptonite is oral. he’s such a whore for that mouth of yours. you guys waited for quite a while to have any nsfw activity because you wanted to establish a deep romantic connection first. so about 6 months into your relationship, you gave him head for the first time and OH MY GOSHHHH. you were coming back from date night, aròn wore an unbuttoned white dress shirt with chains and rings, all styled by you. it was raining and y’all decided to walk around the city and so tour chivalrous boyfriend offered his blazer to stop you from getting cold. you had never been more attracted to him. the way his wet hair laid messy on his head, abs protruded through his drenched shirt, it turned you on. so when you got into his apartment, you grabbed his hand and took him into the bedroom.

“despacio baby” he chuckled. you pushed him onto the bed, straddling and welcoming him with a kiss. you felt him grow beneath your ass, a sign for you to get on your knees. “y/n, wait what are you doing” aròn says as you began to unbuckle his pants. you didn’t hear, your brain too loud with horny thoughts to answer him. “cariño…” he held your hands at his belt. “are you sure you want to do this.” he asked worriedly, knowing how important sex was to you. “i’ve never been more sure of anything in my life” you mirrored his smirk, as he moved his hands, unbuttoning his shirt whilst you pulled his pants to his trousers. His tan cock stood strong, pink tip peaking through his freckled foreskin. he had a light brown bush leading up to his happy trail, urging you to lick down from his abs to his balls. “I’m so hard right now,” you started bobbing up and down and noticed how much of a panter he was. when he was close you started to deepthroat, to which he responded with a loud moan, yanking his dick out of your mouth and giving you the nastiest facial ever.

fucking loved it, as if he couldn’t love you more already…you were such a cockdrunk slut for him.

music plays a huge part of your relationship. when you guys are in the sheets, the symphony that comes from your bedroom is actually next level. oftentimes, aròn catches you humming and singing in the shower, to your embarrassment. “why are you hiding your face, your voice is incredible.” he praises. for his upcoming album, whilst in the studio, you came to check up on your bf bringing your freshly homemade brownies that you knew he loved. you knew aròn had been having a bit of a hard time completing one of the final tracks. as his team listened back to the record your bf was getting frustrated “ughhh it’s shit!” as he growled chucking song sheets across the room. “y/n you’ve got to speak to him, no one else is getting through to him and we are on a tight deadline” the executives who were present at the times warned. “he’ll be ready, i can assure you” you urged everyone else to leave the room. “aròn.” he didn’t answer. your tone softened, “papí…” you moved to him, noticing how tense he was getting. he looked up at you with teary eyes, hurting at how anxious he was getting. you knew what to do. “come on.” he followed u back into the recording booth. the track was playing, and all you did was talk, he spoke about his issues with fame, love, and life, and it was the perfect outro/interlude. you also added background vocals and harmonies into his tracks and the media went wild for it!

#gay #bottom male reader #aron piper #smut

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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The Root of All Ransom (4)

Welp. Here we are. Another part that isn't the finale. So, here you go, 👜 anon, I turned a few sentences into 5.2k.

Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see previous or series)

Summary: Ransom tries his hand at something completely new: being a boyfriend.

Warnings for a shocking amount of foul language, Ransom absolutely not understanding his own feelings, so ya know, idiot!Ran, and referenced smut (non-explicit, or at least not super detailed, don't hate me). MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty else for you to read on my Light Masterlist.

He’s shocked it’s first class and not a private plane. Ransom shouldn’t be shocked. It’s you, so why not be one more sensible thing you don’t have to do and do anyway? He kinda hates your practicality, but you insist—when the stay overseas is this long and there’s no hard start to your arrival, you fly commercial.

He already regrets coming along. Why did he think this was a good idea again?

Ran entertains himself for the majority of the first leg since you are actually on a call in mid-air about…whatever the fuck he interrupted you discussing yesterday…and now he’s distracted by that damn memory again.

He adjusts himself in his spacious seat, folding his hands over his lap and focusing out the window past you. Except he’s not. He’s not eyeing the cloud formations or the colors of quickening sunrise and set. He’s just watching you handle your business. He sees you put on fake—but well-executed fake—smiles and offer niceties to people beneath you, people nowhere near as smart as you, people nowhere near as pretty.

Shit.

He watches a movie instead, waking up as the pilot announces your descent, and he turns to find you resting against his shoulder.

He hadn’t even noticed. He didn’t notice falling asleep. He didn’t notice someone touching him in his sleep. He didn’t care, and that’s weird for Ransom.

He doesn’t want to know what it took for you to put him beside you on such short notice—except he really, really wants to know—but he vows this will be the only time you pay for his ticket. It’s better if he pays his own way. Less mess. Boundaries. Not much harm in you napping on him though because, hey, you’ve been naked together in bed…and now he’s thinking again. Shit.

Ransom has ‘friends’ all over the world, so his passport is current and ready for a barrage of stamps. The noise of the immigration officer’s plunging metal and ink gong (or may as well be) tells Ran he needs some painkillers for a headache. Good thing he wore dark sunglasses.

Coffee during the mercifully short layover does not prevent him from passing out on your shoulder during the second leg of the trip, but you are happy puttering away on your tablet when he falls asleep and when he wakes up. You play some stupid game the whole time. He had no idea you did that.

With how excruciating the journey is to Beijing, Ransom’s considering always tacking on a visit to someone between you and home. He’s never going to do just this back and forth again, but it’s not so daunting if padded with a second locale.

He can make one call and be raucously accepted in Dubai, Monte Carlo, Sydney, and Naples, and those are just the people he’s seen recently States-side. Trust fund children live their best lives, do the best drugs, and drink the best booze. They do that shit endlessly. They are Ran’s people. Ran is one of them. He’s rolled that fact over and over in his head too much by the time you two step out to find your car in Beijing.

You have a local assistant and translator, whose name he doesn’t give a fuck about when he’s this tired, and she rides in the back of the SUV with you. He just shuts his eyes behind his sunglasses and prays to stop moving soon. His ass is vibrating and not in a pleasant way.

There is no pomp at the hotel. In fact, Ran notices that absolutely no staff so much as glance at your party as you make your way to the private elevator.

One button. It’s not labeled. It’s just a little gold round, and the assistant pushes it.

Then Ransom sees a few smaller black buttons below the otherwise empty panel that all have distinguishing characters, but guests need not know nor care what those mean. Only the gold matters. You should arrive at the penthouse, nowhere else, and the elevator just does the rest.

It’s a nice touch, he allows, properly exclusive.

You head to sleep instantly, only taking the time to wash up before crawling under the generic white but high thread count sheets, and lightly snoring. Ran thoroughly cleans up, too, unable to lay down just yet. He smirks when he sets his bag of travel-sized skincare down by yours. It’s odd that feels right.

He explores the four rooms of your suite with due reverence. This is the shit he thought you avoided. This is the top of Beijing—possibly all of China—and they know you here.

Whilst you remain dead to the world, room service arrives at exactly six pm local time. That is not something you told the assistant to do within the last day; that’s a routine, a standing order, and Ran has no clue what to do.

Does he wake you? Does he help himself? What the fuck? What would you want? What does he want? He’s way out of his depth. He munches on the proffered food while contemplating how stupid it was to make this long-ass trip without truly getting what it would mean.

What does it mean anyway?

Optionless but to ask you, he slinks into the bedroom and gently sweeps your hair behind your ear.

You mumble but don’t wake. He doesn’t get an answer if you are hungry, but he leaves the door ajar so you can smell dinner if it strikes your fancy.

Ransom crashes pretty quickly once his belly is full and the sun sinks beyond the smoggy horizon of metal spires.

His choice for bed is to curl around you. That’s what he wants. That’s what puts him right out. Ransom Drysdale always does exactly what he wants. That’s the beauty of his life.

Within a few days is another formal event, and Ransom is pre-partying with a glass full of two tiny bottles worth of whisky when the elevator dings.

He thinks it’s room service again but isn’t sure why they wouldn’t know to skip a dinner delivery tonight.

Before he gets a word out, however, a tall, bulky gentleman in an all-black suit stares back at him with the same questioning look.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ran blurts.

The man looks around and asks for you instead of responding, and you pop out of the bedroom.

“Cole?”

Is that even remotely this fucker’s real name? He’s a very, very good-looking Asian man named fucking ‘Cole?’

No. Ran fumes instantly.

“Shit,” you exclaim rushing to place an earring and ignoring the wide-open back of your dress. “This is my fault. I blanked. I won’t need you tonight, dear.”

Dear???

“But you’ve got your—“ you hold your hand out toward the newcomer (or not-new), miming giving him something, but Cole sweeps away your concern with a wave.

Ran steps closer to you, forcibly zipping your gown with eyes fixed on the other man.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s no trouble.” Cole looks Ransom up and down, flashing an approving grin. “You two have fun.”

The hell if he needs Cole’s fucking approval, but you play it all off so well that Ransom forgets all about him by the time you take his arm and walk into that evening’s venue.

He has enough to drink that Ran gets pretty handsy in the car on the way back to the hotel. His groping gets you very hot and bothered in turn, and eventually, he bends you over the suite’s expensive grey couch with the view of the city below, gripping your hair and hip tighter than intended. He fucks you so hard that you squirt, and it drips down the inside of his legs, wetting his dress socks which are still on.

It’s not the soggy socks that annoy him the most though.

You make him help you clean the mess with towels, and the kicker is that Ransom didn’t get to come yet. What the shit? From now on, hard fucks are only for over hardwood floors, and fuck if he’s letting you come first, selfish whore. Ran isn’t the help. He’s not fucking cleaning.

His reward—because he always forgets that there is always a reward with you—is that you let him come wherever he wants, so then he’s deliberate and torturously slow sliding into your soaked pussy and marking his selfish, rewarding, dick-sucking, cum-painted whore. No condom. Damn it, it’s perfect.

He’s a filthy asshole and you fucking love it. He knows because you let him. He knows because of those noises and that fucking giggle. He knows because you both sleep like fucking rocks after your dirtiest sex ever.

Yes, the arrangement is working well, despite being in each other’s company five times more than ever before. He gets breaks while you work or he roams around shopping sometimes. Still, two days after the first event, Ran flies to see that buddy in Monte Carlo and then home.

Just in case.

He doesn’t want to get bored.

It works. The whole arrangement works, and no one is more surprised than Ransom. He isn’t getting bored with you or the sex. He visits in short intervals, ready with any number of jaunts to other countries should he need to run, and you keep running your own fucking business. He’s simultaneously cautious and completely unhinged in enjoyment. Best of both worlds—or no worlds, kinda—because there are no labels and no pressure. He’s in complete control. He comes when he wants. Yup. That means exactly what he thinks.

He would have guessed the distance would get on his nerves or get old, but Ran discovered phone sex. There was no reason before to do digitally what he could do personally. Why have a phone book of willing ass if not to use it? He may have been wrong on that front. The phone itself is a goddamn revelation. He gets to finish and there is no one—no one—to kick out afterward. He can hear everything, see everything if he wants, and then he definitely doesn’t have to clean your filthy cunt up. He’s never gone long enough to forget what you taste like, so that’s fine. Where has this been all his life?

Good news is that you like enough variety (and make all those fucking noises) that he is anything but bored. He’s steadily built a vivid spank bank from his in-person visits and a few choice screencaps on his ever-more-beloved phone.

He enjoys one event gown with a slit so high up your thigh that he can finger you secretly. He only has to lean over enough to look like he’s listening to you whisper in his ear—and you do whisper harsh, filthy things that make him wish his clothing left such easy access to his dick. Also, Ransom Drysdale is now a member of the Mile High Club, and yes, he is very smug about that fact.

You do that. You answer his texts, and you call more. Ran looks forward to midday as well as midnight buzzes from his pocket.

He enjoys it even more when he gets to pick up your call in the middle of brunch with his mother, holding a finger up to Linda’s face mid-sentence to say he has to take this.

He’s deliberate to call you ‘sweetheart’ right away, openly gloating which, ok, yes, you were right about him doing, but he doesn’t pity Linda. That bitch deserves all this and more.

“Yeah, it’s a good time to talk. Just at brunch,” he says with all the niceness of people he’s seen being obnoxious in ‘relationships.’

“She says ‘hi,’” he tosses to his mother as he excuses himself from the table. The look on her thin, cigarette-puckered face is priceless. He’ll have to make sure you call during brunch every week he’s not traveling.

His grandfather is harder to flaunt you in front of. The astute old man always asks about you, not your business, and promptly waxes poetic about his late wife. Ran has never heard Harlan talk about Grandma Thrombey so much while playing ‘Go.’ He thinks maybe Grandpa is getting senile or hoping to freshen up the old stories for a new audience, namely his nurse, Marta.

Compared to his deceased ancestor, Ran’s giving it the old college try. Comfortable living in a nondescript limbo of getting laid with total freedom. You are never the sole reason he leaves the country. That would be dependent. Ransom is not dependent.

He’s careful because if he upsets you then he makes this very awkward for himself—temporary as that may be until he simply flies away.

He plays the role of a boyfriend. He imitates things he’s seen. It’s easier to fake than he thought it would be.

Ransom has never seen you this stressed.

You make less eye contact with him and the other guests at the swanky Hong Kong plaza—a little travel amongst his travels—but the party is too crowded for him to ask what’s wrong.

Of course, because you’re such a big name right now, lots of young entrepreneurs and CEOs want to talk to you. That’s too many people too close for even Ran’s socialite moods. He bristles at the puppy dogs wagging their tongues and tails in your face.

You don’t handle the attention well.

You jump headlong into the variables of earnings, spending, overhead, gross revenue, and capital while Ran watches the men and women surrounding you start to zone out. They humor your rant, but it’s not what they all want to hear.

These are people who talk out of their asses. They talk a big game with tiny, manicured hands that grasp at buzzwords and soundbites. They are ‘eco-friendly,’ ‘streamlined,’ ‘culturally inclusive’ little fucks, all of them, and Ransom speaks their language.

He touches your elbow lightly.

“Shall we get you a fresh drink, sweetheart?” he says a touch loud to cut you off.

All you notice is that you can see the bottom of your glass. “Oh, sure.”

“I’ll bring her right back,” Ran promises the circle of listeners, guiding you away to a far table.

He’s not telling you how to do your job, but he knows those folk. That’s not how you keep young money’s attention.

They don’t do well with practical details upfront. They’re dreamers. Paint a picture. Give them the moral and idealized speech of how you’re making the world a better place. The bullshittier the better. Then hit them with the figures if they ask.

As he says his piece, you sigh and straighten. You know he’s right.

“You really are cold and calculated.”

“What the fuck else am I supposed to be?”

You look him over before a small ‘okay,’ announcing you’re ready to tackle the rest of the night.

Ran smiles back before taking you the long way around to grab those fresh drinks he promised. He’s been helpful. He feels like your equal, and it feels good.

You certainly don’t need him, but his confidence is boosted after coming to your rescue.

On his next trip out, there’s a problem. Thank god you lay out your clothing the morning of so that he caught it, too, because the dress—this goddamn rag sack piece of shit—has to go.

It’s hideous. Trendy in the worst way. Ransom isn’t letting you fucking leave like that. He isn’t going to be seen with you like that, more accurately. He simply refuses.

You’ll have to be fashionably late. They’ll fucking wait for you.

He doesn’t care if it’s a local designer. He doesn’t care if your assistant has to be on the phone through her lunch break. He arranges for you to have a proper gown.

Something decent. Something flattering. Something you.

And it really does make you light up.

You hang on his arm with gratitude the whole night, sweetly touching your hand to his thigh when something in the dinner conversation reminds you of him (or if you’re sure you’ll commiserate about someone’s stupid comment later), and Ran feels appreciated for his expertise.

It’s another high note.

His planned trip on the way home is Ibiza. The friend he visits there was once loosely described as “the British Ransom,” which then led to the two being called ‘the Wank’ and ‘the Yank,’ a story for another time. However, Ran struggles to see the similarities this time.

The Wank still sleeps around with these model types. He still drinks too much and does a bunch of drugs. Ransom has no interest in any of the half-naked women throwing themselves at him. He tries—he really tries—to find them appealing, but he can’t help but notice they’re dumb. They have no original thoughts of their own, not a single one between them, and it’s fucking torture to listen to them. They are instantly boring.

He misses the challenge of you already.

Ran muddles through an exhaustive, unenjoyable weekend before coming up with a solution.

Instead of going back to the states, instead of being boring and predictable and expecting those imbeciles to develop opinions overnight, he surprises you (and himself) by returning to Beijing.

It makes sense because Ransom Drysdale does whatever he wants, always has. No, he doesn’t have to do anything, but that makes it all the more strange that he wants to see you again so soon.

It’s a mixed bag bordering on a mistake.

He’s seen you stressed but never this busy. Every other visit was planned, aligned with weekends or events so he has something to do with you instead of just near you, but he’s fucked that now.

You spend hours away at your temporary offices. You have meetings at your construction site morning and afternoon. Your contractor even comes up to the hotel suite after you come back from twelve hours out already.

Ransom is bored. He’s upset for you, and he doesn’t hide it well.

After fifteen minutes sitting across the living room from you two and your blueprints, bouncing his foot on a rug not thick enough to muffle the sound—but also no longer stained from your come, he notices,—you stride over with a set jaw.

Your hand lands on his knee in a biting pinch.

“Behave,” you hiss, “or go.”

Normally, he’d be furious. No one talks to Ran like that, but that’s just the problem: you do.

You talk to Ransom like that because you’re trying to work. You’re work is more important than he is. He’s returned, and you have shit to do. Why does that hit him so differently?

As a child, he started with a sky-high hope of pleasing his mother, but her constant belittling and dismissal wore that hope down to nothing. The sudden desire for that approval from you is a bit like his presence: uninvited but not unwelcome.

Linda didn’t care what he did as long as he wasn’t around. You don’t care what he does—not really—as long as he is around. It’s only that you don’t like being annoyed, just like him, and he doesn’t want to annoy you.

He doesn’t want you to get bored with him.

So his immediate reaction is to sit still. He wants to behave. He wants to stay in the room with you. Why is that so odd? He should take a swing or yell. He should bolt to catch the next flight out. Why does staying in a place he belongs feel so foreign?

Wait. Why does he feel like he belongs here?

Because Ransom does whatever he wants, and if he wants to be in the room, then he belongs there. Obviously. Yeah. That’s gotta be why.

He stares, perfectly unmoving with your eyes locked on his, and your look softens after a long moment.

“Sorry,” you mouth. “Thank you for being patient.”

In yet another odd turn of events, Ran wants to argue with that. He’s never been patient his entire life. Certainly, no one has ever described him that way, but a confused weight pushes his ass further into the cushions, readying him for a long haul.

“Good boy,” you mutter, planting a kiss on his forehead.

Behaved? Patient? Good? Fuck, he’s gonna need time to think about what he’s done, why he’s doing it, and why the fuck you think he’s good because Ransom Drysdale isn’t good.

Right?

He’s good with strictly Old Money folks or young money folks, but Ransom has never been particularly adept with earned money folks. You are a mix of young and earned. It’s why he can’t figure you out all the way, not quickly, at least, not obviously.

He tags along to an intimate business dinner scheduled for the night. Since he wasn’t supposed to be in town, it’s either that or eating alone, so Ran guards himself for a spectacularly boring meal.

There are only seven people, and he’s the odd man out. You are neither the oldest nor the youngest two there. Among the table is another couple in their fifties—business and life partners—who have been together for years, probably decades. Ransom doesn’t listen very closely; he watches. They are both more playful and more serious than you and him. It makes Ran very aware of how useless he is to you at this moment. Because Ran can’t ramp up his industry knowledge in five seconds flat, he decides to touch you more.

Grazing the back of his finger down your arm. Swiping your hair off of your neck. Splaying his hand between your shoulder blades.

It’s not meant to be possessive; he just has nothing else to do. What else is he supposed to offer?

Apparently, that’s not…good?

He doesn’t understand much of what’s said (a hazard of not giving a flying fuck because he’s not there to understand your business) but he does notice your change in demeanor after a short chat with the woman seated to your right.

On the way back to the car, you lengthen your stride, rushing in front of him, fuming. Ran doesn’t understand. It’s not as if he fingered you under the fucking table or something, well, not again. You didn’t seem any weaker or submissive in front of the group. He demanded no attention in return. He’s not an idiot. He made sure.

The elevator ride to your floor is sweltering and not for good reasons.

You refuse his help with your zipper and beeline to the bathroom, starting a shower much later than you normally would. He knows these routines now.

He listens to the spraying water while quietly undressing, not sure what to do or say because he has no clue what he did or said in the first place. He wasn’t hanging all over you. He didn’t grab your ass or objectify you in any way. He’s always known how not to treat people like shit; he simply doesn’t care most of the time.

This isn’t one of those times.

He needs to know if he fucked up so he can leave. He can’t stand to hang around for arguments. He watched enough of those from Richard and Linda. He listens by the bathroom door until there’s one faint sniffle from the other side and immediately walks in.

You’re standing under the water, head hanging.

When he gets to the glass door, he asks, “what’s wrong?” Ransom doesn’t have a gentler way to word that.

You stare at the tiles. “I’m tired.” You don’t tell him to go away or leave you alone, so Ransom opens the door and steps in.

He’s seen you tired. He knows you tired. That’s not the whole truth.

Ran won’t get any goddamn sleep if you’re strung out and emotional beside him, so he lifts your chin in his grasp and asks you to pass him the body wash. He’ll get your back.

Your pupils are blown when he looks at you. Ran doesn’t know how to take that when you keep your arms tucked to your chest like a scared and quivering rabbit.

No fancy ideas form in his head while he slowly scrubs that beautiful expanse of skin he’s grown quite fond of. It’s a lot for him to even stay in the building much less the tiny space of this bathroom, luxurious as the shower may be. He has no experience going toward upset people. He is always running away from them.

With how quiet you are, all of Beijing will run out of hot water before you talk to him, so he motions to leave.

“Good? You ready?” he whispers once you’re rinsed.

You don’t look at him again. “I’ll meet you out there” is all you mumble.

Fine. He grabs a towel for himself and peels off his now sopping-wet boxer briefs. He wrings them out over the sink dramatically and flashes you a smile, but you’ve fully turned away, covered and drying with your head bent again.

He does not like this.

Ransom’s flight home leaves the next day, and this is not how he wants any of his visits to end. You can’t be sad. He can’t get any sleep beside a sad woman.

When you crawl into bed, damp hair and all, he mirrors how you lay beside him, but you don’t touch.

“So…” he tries again, leading you to a place he’s not even sure he wants to go.

After a heavy sigh, you explain that the woman at dinner thought he was an escort. She thought you were so lonely that you hired company for a dinner of friends. She thought you inappropriately considered that acceptable, as if you wouldn’t know for what functions you needed a fucking date.

Ransom fills the silence that follows. “Like…Kyle?”

You prop up your head to glare at him in the ambient city light. “You mean Cole?”

“His name isn’t fucking Cole, but sure, that guy.” Ransom shifts over to his back, spreading out casually over the bed while his chest tightens. “You…pay them for company.”

More silence.

“Paid, past tense, yes.”

“Did you fuck ‘em?”

You smack his chest with no real force. “Ransom!”

“What?! It’s just a question. It’s a fair question,” he retorts. You only call him ‘Ransom’ when mad. When he’s good you call him ‘Hugh,’ or when you’re messing with him, but either way, he prefers when you say ‘Hugh.’ You are the only person not employed by his family who he prefers that from.

You sit bolt upright in the bed, wearing pajamas, he notes. Boo.

“Ok, sure, Anal Daddy of the Northeast. You can talk.”

“Fine—” because that was savage “—are you embarrassed?” He mirrors you again and sits up. “Does it embarrass you that you hired them?”

“No.” You don’t sound convincing. “It didn’t then.”

Ran rests his head on his fist, tired. He’s tired but not bored. Weary. That’s a better word for it. He’s weary because that absolute cunt at dinner has no right to make you feel so small and wrong when you could wipe the fucking floor with her.

“Why would be embarrassing now?”

Good god, if Ransom Drysdale isn’t embarrassed that you walked in on him with one of the saddest fucks of his life than surely you’re overreacting.

You are busy all the time. It would make less sense for you not to use that type of service. It’s only because he has money that he can keep up with you and only because he has no job that he can see you on your schedule.

“Because…” You flop onto your back, so your eyes can’t meet his even in the dark. “Because she thought my first real boyfriend of this decade was a whore.”

Ran shrugs. “I am though.”

You snort, try to stop it, and end up burying your face in the comforter to giggle.

“Hugh—“ that’s better “—stop it. That’s not what I meant.”

He leans over you, his weight against a hand at your side. “I suppose the real question is ‘am I a better free fuck than your paid fucks?’”

Your fake ire is adorable as you try to ‘attack’ him in bed. You may as well have started a pillow fight, but it’s leagues away from crying on your own in the shower. Who knows? If he plays his cards right and puts you in a good enough mood, he might get a blowjob out it. That’ll sure as shit let him rest well tonight.

Finally, tumbled onto his back with you straddling him, he grabs your wrists lightly.

“Come on, sweetheart, I’m sorry that old hag is a bitter bitch.” He kisses the tip of your nose and lines his lips up to yours. “Now where’s my check?” he asks in a gravelly, thick voice.

“Cash,” you correct just before your mouths meet, and Ran snaps back in curiosity.

That’s how you wanna play it? He tries to get more out of you.

“No, no, no.” Your squeals as he manhandles you closer are delightful, the silky fabric of your shorts and top glide right over his heating skin.

“You know what I think,” he announces with you pinned to his chest, gasping for breath. “I think you need to come home. I think you’ve been here too long.”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

When you move to hide your face in his neck, Ran has to hold your cheek, forcing you to pay attention.

“Three days,” he says. “Give me one weekend. My grandfather’s birthday is a couple weeks away. You can see the leaves change and watch my mother shrivel into the Crypt Keeper before your very eyes.” He allows a pause for your poorly stifled laugh and watches you bite your bottom lip like he’s going to do for you in about two minutes, right after you say yes. “Pure entertainment. No translator required. How about it?”

It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t fight him a little more. It wouldn’t be you if the challenge didn’t make him that much harder.

That’s why. That’s why he does this. He wants the bit of work to get you in bed, the bit of struggle before you let him inside you. He wants to be home with you there. He wants to be in his own space again. He wants to show you off. He wants his fucking family to see he can do this.

Selfishly.

All of these things he wants for himself. He wants you to stop crying for him. He wants you to destress for him. He wants you to have a vacation for him. These are all completely normal motivators from Ransom Drysdale.

He’s still in control. He’s still getting what he wants. He didn’t have to change a thing about himself to be perfectly happy. He was right all along.

A/N: Repeat after me: this is not a series. This is a mini-series. There will only be one more part. Again, only one more part...because ffs I do love Ransom, but it is impossible to write any other character while dipping into this asshole's mindset. Anyway, one. more. part. and we're done! Also hey, hey, @supraveng.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist]

#hugh ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale #ransom x reader #ransom smut #fanfic #fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut #18+#18+ fanfic #ransom drysdale fic #the root of all ransom

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imthepunchlord · 1 month

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Just a random question, but do you like adrien and marinette being the main duo, or do you think two other people would've been better?

Yes and no.

It's kinda complicated.

So, with my long break from Miraculous, clearing out my salt mines, and doing a gradual rewatch of the show with fresh eyes and enjoying the nostalgia of what used to be, I can say I am reminded on why, we as a fandom, enjoyed them as leads and as a pair.

There was some yin-yang potential in their dynamic, specifically playing off Lady Wifi introducing the Head vs Heart idea.

Marinette's an Empathetic Head. She's observant and perceptive, the planner and quick thinker, typically, she responds logically to what's presented to her. But she does feel deeply for others, and that empathy and kindness drives her to step up and help others.

Adrien in turn is a Reasonable Heart, at least, meant to be. He works off his feelings, goes with his gut, his wants; but he's also meant to be the emotional reason, knowing what to say to ground those that are getting caught up in themselves, offer support and direction, one they didn't consider or see before.

It nicely places off that theme that there's a little bit of the other in the counterparts, which is why the two halves have those dots, a little bit of yang resides in yin and vice versa.

And between the fluff and the snark and the support/loyalty they do offer each other, that potential for them as partners and users for the Cat and Ladybug is there.

Unfortunately, the writers' bias and stubbornness ruined that dynamic. What's meant to be a partnership of equals never becomes equals. Adrien never steps up as a leader and shares the weight of responsibility, and Marinette never feels like she can ease back and trust others to handle things, making her feel like she has to solve everything and be THE solution.

There's also the factor that they decided to prioritize the romance over the friendship, which did not really help Adrien as a hero as he focused more on his romantic pursuits than being a hero, flirting at the wrong time, not taking anything seriously... it was a bad look. And then Adrien and Marinette as civilians, despite being stated to be friends, I kinda question if they truly are. Adrien never actively goes to hang out with Marinette on his own, most of the time, there's a social expectation for them to hang out as civilians, or a favor is involved.

One of the aspects that has a romance work is having a good friendship to be that foundation. But the writers don't value friendship, not between actual friends and not between the love interests.

And the third issue is their means of growth.

Thomas, unfortunately, echoed the idea that girls grow through suffering. So Marinette's growth is just having the narrative against and giving her a hard time and she just can't win no matter what she does. Damned if she do, and damned if she don't. And I got to see that she developed anxiety and has an Atlas Complex and is very stress and just...

And with Adrien, he's just stagnant. He doesn't get involved in his own plot. He doesn't step up to the responsibility of being a hero, nor does he seek to share the weight of leadership. He's handed things on a silver platter, is allowed to be upset and petty and recklessly use his power.

And all of these factors just throws a big wrench into the potential of their partnership and them as leads and as the Cat and Ladybug heroes.

Better writers can make them work. And I bet there are a lot of good fanfics out there that have made them work.

I can see that potential and promise there. It's just really poor execution that ruined it.

I also will say, personally, I do think narrative wise things would flow better if they had a kwami swap at the start. Though, this is largely working the direction canon did go and I can see how a kwami swap could've combated that.

Plagg is set up to be the ideal foil to Marinette and have her grow, as she's too much of a giver, overthinks, piles too much on her plate, and struggles to put herself first. Extra bonus that they could've been a hilarious duo to see.

Tikki's big appeal with Adrien is that she would've gotten him involved in his own plot. Would've pushed for him to figure out who he is, what he wants to do, to be more involved if not be the leader, and to think more before he acts. And there could've been some good fluff as Tikki fills the void his mom left, as she can be very affectionate and supportive.

There's also the factor that Adrien needs someone to straight up tell him when he did something wrong or uncool. Anything that's a vague hint that Plagg occasionally gives just goes over Adrien's head or is ignored.

And there is that big appeal of shifting up the dynamics. Canon's issue is that Marinette and Tikki are initiators, while Adrien and Plagg are reactors. Mixing up these dynamics would've done wonders for their characters and interactions.

So, yeah over all, they can and could've worked as leads and holders of the Ladybug and Cat. The writing just really screwed them over. Though, I will say, doing different leads for Ladybug and Cat isn't an impossibility either.

#ask Punchie #ml salt

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ashthemadwriter-archived · 2 years

Note

Heya! Can I request first kiss headcanons with Chuuya and a female reader? And probably how the mafia people would react to them dating lol

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Chuuya X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None

Word Count: 0.7K

A/n: Yes! First kiss hcs for my favorite boy! 🤤

Everything starts when Mori introduces you to each other. You as Chuuya's new subordinate, and him as your superior.

You know how Chuuya is toward he's subordinates. He cares about them a lot and wants them to be able to take care of themselves, so he's a bit harsh on you since you have no experience in martial arts or self defense; and that's why you're not a fan of him at first sight.

But gradually, you get to know him better. You find out that under his short-tempered threatening mask is actually a soft guy, who has a weak spot for dogs and is actually a kind and wonderful person. You also see how mature he actually is in different situation and respectful he is toward his subordinates even though he's strict around them, you slowly start to feel a little glitter in your heart.

How his red hair shines and dances in the air when he activates his ability, how his outfits are always unique and fashionable, and how his personality is so attractive, how could you not fall for him?

Even his shoutings and whiny voice was getting attractive to you at some point🚶🏻‍♀️

The thing was that you had no idea what his opinion on dating was, or even if he was able to be in a relationship. You knew nothing about his interests, and neither did others cause it was the port mafia! People don't poke around their noses in other people's business, especially if that other people is An executive.

So, you get all courage you have together and ask him about is straight up.

"Chuuya-san?"

"What is it?"

"What's your favorite type of women?"

Chuuya: Chokes on his wine*

After receiving a threatening gaze and being told to mind your own fucking business, you conclude that maybe he's not feeling the same way as you do.

Little did you know you stole his heart from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

He was not planning on confessing to you. Not because of lack of confidence; but because he didn't see himself in a place where he could date others because of his rank in the mafia.

But when you had your first kiss, he thought that maybe he's overthinking it and he should give you and of course, himself, a chance.

How your first kiss happened is kinda cliche. Basically the enemy had captured you and was planning to get information out of you and then shoot you in the head; but no no, nobody should dare to lay a finger on Chuuya Nakahara's beloved.

So when he came to rescue you, and killed all the enemies, you were filled with so much emotions like love, relief, care and... at the same time, that you forgot about all the consequences, pulled the collar of his coat toward yourself and smashed your lips together, starting a heated kiss.

Boy was definitely shocked. This was Wrong. This was dangerous. This was crazy. This was inappropriate in every possible way, but your warm, tasty lips weren't allowing him to consider that at the moment. So he wraps his arm around you as he starts kissing you back, washing away all the concern and anxiety he felt when he was apart from you.

Another thing he didn't consider, or was too busy shoving his tongue in your mouth to consider, was the presence of other mafia members.

Chuuya is not a really big fan of PDA, but he didn't care about anything at that moment.

So when Akutagawa and Tachihara got worried and wondered what was taking their superior so long and they came inside, they were met with a scene they were expecting to see.

You being sticked to the wall as Chuuya was making out with you, slowly running his fingers on your sensitive neck. Your quiet moans and heavy breathing was proving that you were doing this for quite a while.

Akutagawa changing back from widened eyes and shocked face, to emotionless and care free, shutting Tachihara's open mouth with a blade of rashoumoun as he walks out of the room: C'mon Tachihara, let's give them some privacy.

Tachihara was now even more shocked at Akutagawa's reaction that what you two were doing. How could he be this calm when something this huge was happening?

lmao

So in the end, you two become a couple, and people in the mafia will never forget Tachihara's Embarrassing hilarious story of your first kiss and how you were both suffocating each other(￣▽￣)

Reblogs are wildly appreciated!

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs headcanons #bsd headcanons #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya fluff #chuuya imagines #chuuya headcanons #chuuya hcs #chuuya x you #chuuya x y/n #chuuya scenarios #AshTheMadWriter

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scarletta-ruan · 1 year

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hi hi, how are you? hope you're doing good! so, i'm kinda sick and i really wanted some comfort or something like that 😭😭😭 what about a scenario of dazai, chuuya, sigma and atsushi when reader is sick? thanks!!! 💌💌💌

(please if there's too much to you to write just choose 1 or 2 of them!)

HEADCANON AND SCENARIO OF DAZAI, CHUUYA, SIGMA AND ATSUSHI WHEN READER IS SICK

WARNING: OOC, soft! characters, mention of some nicknames (Belladonna, small candy, vanilla cookie), reader is sick in this hc and scenario, nsfw when Atsushi told the reader to take off her clothes just for him to wipe her body

TYPE: Headcanon and scenario

PAIRING: Osamu Dazai || Chuuya Nakahara || Sigma || Atsushi Nakajima x fem!reader (seperately)

WORDCOUNTS: 1.8k+ words

NOTES: Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that you were sick. Sorry for the request could not finish on the same day you send me your request. Hope you are getting better now.

I had heard about the Covid-19 is going to be back so you have to be careful when you go outside and you should wear a mask too.

1. Osamu Dazai

So well, Dazai would be near you when you told him you were sick.

Dazai offered you a thermometer to check your temperature. And when you gave it back to him, Dazai would check the number on it immediately.

“Oh, I know it. 40 degrees Celsius, you should stay home today. Of course, I will stay at home to take care of you.”

He would make some porridge for you, even though Dazai did not know how to cook. He would destroy your guys' kitchen if you let him make it. But still, he managed to find someone to help make porridge for you.

If you did not want to take some medicine to help you feel better, Dazai would help you to drink some. Maybe… he held a spoon with medicine on it and he would act like feeding a child.

“Your medicine plane is going to come soon, open your mouth for it to land down, Belladonna.”

Dazai would change the tower on your forehead after about 5 minutes. He also helped you to cover up the blanket too.

Dazai would sit here next to you, his cold hand placed on your face and rubbed it gently. This somehow could make you feel better while your body was too hot.

“Just close your eyes, maybe my temperature will make you feel better.”

And if you had to go to the hospital to get some IV fluids, Dazai would be next to you and he did not leave you even though you were lying in bed. And he also helped you to get out to the toilet while holding the dropping bag for you.

Scenario

You were lying on the bed, with your eyes closing. But somehow you could feel Dazai’s hand rubbing your forehead, his cool hand could help your temperature seem to decrease a lot. And Dazai was looking at you gently, his other hand will fix your blanket to keep you warm, then his hand moved to your chest. You were breathing while your chest lifted up and down, then Dazai leaned closer and kissed your forehead and said.

“I am here for you, my princess.”

2. Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya always said that he was busy as he was a Port Mafia Executive, but whenever you told him that you were sick. Chuuya would be here for you, he would have a day off just to take care of you.

“Well, I will have a day off just to take care of you.”

In my mind, Chuuya was a family man, I mean he could cook something for you to eat while you were sick. He would make some porridge for you to eat, and Chuuya fed you by himself. Because he did not believe you finished the porridge.

“Open your mouth up, small candy. If you don’t have some you will feel worse.”

Chuuya would also watch you finish the medicine too, and if you did not want to take a medicine, it was okay. Chuuya always had his own life to deal with this problem, he would smash the medicine then mix it with water and also add some sugar or honey too. That was when he was ready to hand it to you, and if you still did not want to drink, Chuuya would pour it out on the spoon and then slowly feed you medicine.

“Say ‘Ah’, your plane is going to land in your mouth now.”

And if you also had to head to the hospital, Chuuya would always be here for you. He signed all of the doctor’s papers and helped you to go everywhere on the wheelchair if you were so tired to stand up and walk.

“I will handle everything so please just relax, don’t worry about anything, my dear.”

Scenario

Chuuya had just finished his phone call just to announce to the Boss and Big sister that he had to stay at home today just to take care of you. He let out a long sigh, you were a stubborn lover in his eyes. And now you were sick just because you spent a long time outside in the rain working on his reports and missions. Looking at you lying in bed, eyes closing and breathing hard, Chuuya’s heart felt like it broke into a thousand pieces. He came near to you, holding your hand, squeezed it gently, and said.

“Idiot small candy, you have to take good care of yourself, not to make you sick like this just because of work.”

3. Sigma

Sigma would have his day off just to take care of you while you were sick.

He would be by your side, taking care of you by changing the tower on your forehead each time he felt it hot enough and always comforting you when you felt uncomfortable.

“Alright, alright, I’m here. I will change your tower as if it is too hot now.”

“My sweet vanilla, are you feeling okay now? Do you want to eat something? I will buy some food or make some for you.”

Another man of the family like Chuuya, he knew how to cook and also made you some porridge and some sweet things if you could have some. He might offer you a hot glass of milk because you were sick now.

“Here, here, I’m here. I will bring you some porridge and some hot milk, you need to eat something before you take medicine.”

Would look at you until you finished eating and took your own medicine. Then he would change the side of the tower on your forehead, help you to fix the blanket, then he left just to put the tray on the table.

If you were not able to sleep, Sigma would sing you a lullaby until you finally fell asleep.

As if you need to go to the hospital just to get some IV fluids, Sigma would go too. He helped you with anything he could, helped you to go to the toilet, or held the dropping bag for you. He also held your hand when you saw a needle as if you were afraid of them.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I am here. Just look at me instead of the doctor.”

Scenario

“I will inject some medicine into her dropping bag.”

The doctor’s voice resounded into your ears, your eyes slowly opened up just to see the doctor was holding a big syringe. That was when you closed your eyes tightly, your other hand curled up into a fist. You were afraid of the needle, even though the needle of the dropping bag was still smaller than the syringe.

That was when you felt warmth in your other hand made you relax your body, and then you heard a familiar voice.

“Don’t worry, vanilla cookie, I’m here. Just relax.”

You slowly opened your eyes just to see Sigma was looking at you with his gently eyes, he held your hand with both of his hand and kissed on it just to comfort you.

4. Atsushi Nakajima

Of course, Atsushi would have a day off to take care of you like Chuuya, Dazai, and Sigma.

He would take care of you so well, checking your temperature every 30 minutes just to make sure that the fever did not cause you to convulse.

“Let me see, it's still 39 degrees, your body is also hot too.”

He would use some cool water to wipe every part of your body, as you two were lovers at all so Atsushi would tell you to take off your clothes except underwear for him to use the wet tower to run around your body to make the temperature decrease.

Another man of the family like Chuuya and Sigma, Atsushi would cook for you. He also called Doctor Yosano to ask for the medicine and which things were good for you now.

As Yosano said, you would need something to provide Vitamin C, so Atsushi would go outside to buy some fruits for you. And he would tell Kyouka just to come and take care of you while he was outside because he would not believe you to stay at home alone while you were sick.

He would make you eat some oranges and guavas just to provide more Vitamin C. And if you could not eat, he would make some juice from them and also some lemonade for you too.

“You should have some lemonade or some orange juice, because it will provide Vitamin C which can help you to recover quickly.”

And if you had to stay at the hospital, Atsushi would still stay there with you. He would take care of you or pick up anything you need. Even if you want to go to the toilet, he would help you to go there.

If you had to get some IV fluids, he would be so worried about you taking some because in his mind that meant you were so weak now. Boy, he could cry when he saw you had to take some of it, Atsushi could not stand those things so he would cry silently by your side.

And if you woke up after getting some IV fluids, you would see Atsushi fall asleep next to you with tears in the corner of his eyes.

Scenario

You opened up your eyes just to check on the dropping bag hanging above your head to know if it was finished or not. After taking one IV fluids dropping bag, your body was feeling better. As you moved your other hand, you felt someone’s hand was placing on you. You slowly turned your head just to look at that person.

A white-haired boy was sleeping next to you, in his corner eyes you could see some tears were on his eyes. It seemed he had cried, but you did not know the reason why he was crying like this. The boy also woke up when he felt your movement, he looked at you and gently said.

“Are you okay? The doctor said that you need to have some IV fluids just to make you feel better.”

“Are you crying, Atsushi?”

When the boy heard your voice asking him, he rubbed his eyes right away and said.

“N-No, I’m not. You may see, I am smiling with you now. So no way-”

“Atsushi, don’t lie to me. I know you were just crying…” Your voice resounded and cut off his speech. Atsushi’s eyes looked at you, then he gulped. That was when you continued. “...What’s wrong, Atsushi?”

Atsushi held your hand up and buried his face in your hand, he was shaking now. You could feel it clearly. Then his voice resounded shakingly.

“I-I am not used to seeing you lying on the bed just to have some IV fluids, it makes my heart hurt too much. S-Sorry for making you worried like this, I am so… so sorry.”

#bsd dazai x reader #dazai x reader #dazai x you #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya x fem!reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x reader #sigma x you #sigma x reader #atsushi x fem!reader #atsushi x reader #atsushi x you #atsushi x y/n #bsd x female reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader

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inbarfink · 3 months

Text

Okay, this is probably just me being Very Silly but… I think Roleswap AUs are a lot of fun, not just like… as a character design exercise thingy, but as a character exploration and analysis exercise… thingy.

Like, you know, it’s a game of ‘what would this character do if they were in that situation that this other character was in?’, ‘how much would change if those were the circumstances of this character’s life?’, ‘how much do you have to change about a character to make them work in this specific narrative role - and how much you just cannot change without making the character unrecognizable?’

So I’ve had a lot of fun playing around with my Adventure Time Roleswap AUs (you can get a better look at them with the AT Roleswap Tag on my blog).

And I’ve been thinking if I could do a similar thing for Invader Zim - both because IZ has these clear Four Leads that you can swap around very neatly (actually much more than AT does lol) and… mostly because I’ve been going through yet another of my Literally Can’t Think of Anything but Invader Zim Phases and Roleswap AUs offer an exciting new opportunity to Rotate These Characters in My Head.

(For the sake of clarity, I’ll be using ‘the Alien’, ‘the Kid’, ‘the Robot’ and ‘the Sibling’ when referring to the Narrative Roles of Zim, Dib, GIR and Gaz respectively. So if I’m talking about a Dib-Zim Roleswap I’ll be talking about Zim-as-the-Kid and Dib-as-the-Alien. It might lead to weird turns-of-phrase later down the line, like Sibling!Dib when Dib is obviously always a sibling - but at least I hope it’ll be less clunky and more clear that way lol)

So, yeah, I had some Thoughts and Considerations about the idea of a Zim-Dib GIR-Gaz Roleswap, but all-in-all things fall into place pretty easily. Playing on Dib’s relatively-more-heroic role and his only-sane-man shtick by having him as a kinda Irken Rebel - he might still have the interest in magic and supernatural things that Mainstream Irken Science does not acknowledge, but mostly he’s seeing as ‘crazy’ for such ridiculous concepts as ‘conquering the galaxy just for the sake of it is Bad Actually’ and ‘maybe it’s kinda stupid to pick our leaders based entirely on how tall they are’ and ‘the Tallest are obviously blatantly figureheads and the Control Brains are running the show’.

And to add insult to injury, it’s not just that his fellow Irkens don’t listen to his ideas - it’s that they don’t even have enough respect to treat him as an actual dangerous enemy of the state. Instead he’s seen as a crackpot and a joke. He’s basically constantly avoiding the obvious Existence Evaluation he deserves because the Tallests keep procrastinating it and pushing it back in favor of more ‘important things’. And, like, it’s not like Dib wants to be executed by the state for the crime of free thought… but it’ll be nice to know that he’s seen as a real threat.

And of course while he’s better than most Irkens at the whole ‘Space Imperialism is Bad Actually’ thing, he still hasn’t unlearned all of the Irken propaganda about their own superiority (he’s got a Green Savior Complex basically) … and also he's got his own complex about his own superiority. Like, yeah, he’s infuriated by his people’s obsession with height because it’s a stupid illogical prejudice… but also specifically because it makes people disrespect him. When his two lazy and stupid smeethood bullies were made supreme leaders of the empire that was kinda the last straw for him.

Oh, in this AU the Tallests are basically the Same except their colors are switched. So now Red is the sillier and dumber one and Purple is the relatively more competent one. And on one hand Dib is the only Irken who seems to understand how thoroughly unfit to rule these two clowns are but he is also kinda obsessed with making them acknowledge his superiority even though he knows their opinion shouldn’t matter and thus making him the biggest clown of them all, in a way.

I’m still ironing out the details of how he gets to Earth. Something about using his hacking skills to infiltrate Operation Impending Doom 2 to try and sabotage it from within. Then, like, maybe the Earth ‘assignment’ was a trap laid by the Control Brains to get him out of the way. Or maybe he picked Earth because although the Empire sees it as unimportant - Dib thinks it has powerful arcane significance that makes it the perfect foundation for his resistance against the Empire or something like that.

I’m mostly thinking which of these is the snappiest and easiest to explain, but I do enjoy the idea of it being a trap cause it creates the possibility of a “the Alien discovers their plan is a big fat lie” scenario like in ETF, but rather than being utterly despondent and depressed like Canon Zim - Alien!Dib will be joyous and jubilantly validated at the idea that he was considered a notable enough threat to get out of the way with such an elaborate trick.

And Zim as the son of Professor Membrane is also a fun concept to consider. It’s very funny to think of him as still a megalomaniac trying to take over the world while also being just a human kid. He wants to defeat Dib because he sees him as a threat for his world domination plans (maybe not even understanding that Dib is not actually a world-conquering rival) and cause he believes that if he exposes or kills Dib he can get his hands on the advanced alien tech, which is the edge he needs in order to take over the world.

You can justify his world-conquering-obsession as, like, him growing up under the pressure of living up to his father’s legacy and he figured the only way to escape Membrane’s shadow is to go totally against everything he stands for, or that he’s subconsciously seeking revenge against the world and humanity for taking away his father's love and attention, or that he’s hoping that if he becomes an Actual Threat to the world, his dad will have to pay attention to him for a change ,or maybe it’s just ‘Zim is Just Weird Like That’. Or probably some combination of all of the above.

GIR and Gaz slot pretty effortlessly into their new roles. Sibling!GIR could be literally Zim’s little brother, or like, some genetically engineered dog monster Professor Membrane made in an afternoon. But personality-wise there’s no need to change much outside of maybe needing to tone a human version of GIR down just a tad because a human child has some biological, legal and physical limitations that GIR would otherwise lack.

Robot Gaz is basically like ‘Dib stole and reprogrammed a SIR Unit to have Free Will, still somehow struggles with the idea that Free Will means she can disobey him as well’. Pretty much as soon as they landed on Earth she acclimated better than Dib did and developed a fondness for Earth’s junk food and video games. She generally does her own thing and doesn’t really listen to Dib’s schemes to develop Earth’s defenses or harness some sort of supernatural forces against the Irken Empire or foil Zim’s plans or whatever - but mostly because disagrees with Dib’s methods and attitude rather than his goals.

She does prefer the Earth over the Irken Empire and she does have some affection for Dib despite also finding him so annoying. She just refuses to cooperate with plans she thinks are frivolous or stupid or plainly just for Dib’s ego. When push really comes to shove, when she actually believes Dib and/or the Earth is in danger, she would come to help… usually.

So yeah, that Roleswap works pretty smoothly, but the problem starts if I try to do the two other sides of this Roleswap cube. the 'Invader GIR' and 'Invader Gaz' scenarios. This is where I get stuck... And the thing isn’t that the characters aren’t complex and versatile enough - I actually think the IZ characters are pretty multidimensional in their ridiculousness.

It’s just that Dib and Zim’s psychology are really designed for them to play the roles of Protagonist and Antagonist - they’re very much defined to their very core by how driven and motivated they are and how much they want to take center stage. Zim's so self-obsessed he pretty much has to take over any narrative you place him in. And like 50% of Dib’s psyche can be summarized as a terminal case of Main Character Syndrome. Meanwhile, while GIR and Gaz have their own motivations - but GIR’s are generally too wild, capricious and frivolous to actually motivate a Plot, while Gaz’s very much defined by how mundane all of her motivations are. So you really have to work extra hard to make sure Zim and Dib, even when relegated to the sidekick role, don’t still find a way to steal the show.

Honestly, doing Zim as the Robot is actually something I think I can make work. If you just play up a few of Zim’s wackier elements - and especially his blind obedience and dedication to his superiors (which in this case would be Alien GIR), I think you can get a version of Zim that is recognizably Zim while still sticking mainly to the Wacky Comic Relief role.

(And for the record, Robot Zim is a modified SIM Unit, which is a Standard Issue Minion. What does the Z stand for? The Z stands for ZIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM, obviously!)

Sibling Dib was kind of a weird journey for me because at first I thought I had an easy solution for it - just Bill-fy Dib! Keep all of Dib’s bolster and UFO obsession stuff, but minus the fact that he can actually recognize an alien standing in front of his face. Probably because he just doesn’t want to admit his sister found an alien before he did - he just refuses to believe GIR is an alien and going off his wild-goose chases against his own phony conspiracy theories.

But… I think that idea is, like, too effective at keeping Dib away from the limelight? I mean, that would basically relegate him exclusively to Comic Relief and someone Gaz could have conversations with and very little plot relevancy. And I think we should be able to do better by Sibling Dib. Some way to keep him away from the Main Character Role, but still have him as a relevant and useful character from time-to-time?

Putting GIR in any sort of lead role is the much bigger problem. Like I said - GIR just too deranged and too uncontrollable to hold most plotlines, even on Invader Zim. And I can imagine grounding him just a tad, you can do, like ‘alien Invader comes to earth in order to conquer it - realizes he likes junk food and stupid TV so much that he doesn’t want to do it anymore, but still lacks any real concerns for human life or morality’. You know, I’m imagining wacky misadventures that are basically in the spirit of ‘what if SpongeBob SquarePants lacked any sense of right and wrong’ - and that will be a viable narrative, but I’m worried it’s getting too far away from the sheer id-like essence of GIR.

On the Kid corner, obviously you can make narratives in which Gaz and her motivations move the story along - Invader Zim Canon did it multiple times. It’s more of a question of how much we can keep this up. Like, okay, this is purely me and my stupid personal hang-ups. But what I’m looking for is an AU that really feels like it could be its own standalone show, and obviously it’s not going to be the same as Canon IZ - like the Invader Dib roleswap is going to have a slightly more standard heroic narrative compared to the total Villain Protagonist setup of the canon - but I want to make sure everyone fulfill their new Narrative Roles to the level you can imagine a Variety of Episode Plots that fit the 11-minutes-and-occasional-double-length format of IZ.

And with Gaz being really defined by the fact that she cares more for being left alone or the mundane things in life or enacting terrible revenge in the name of the mundane things in life than for any of the sci-fi shit or saving the world- it kinda limits the amount of plots she should be willing to participate in and/or requires a lot of extra Set-Up to explain why she’s emotionally involved in the plot.

I mean, I can certainly imagine a story about a hedonistic would-be Invader making a bizarre harebrained scheme to get his hands on a ridiculous amount of tacos which somehow spirals into attracting the ire of some scarily competent and spiteful little girl by, like, interrupting her Super Mario Odyssey speedrun or something and so she causally takes down his whole operation. But that sort of setup works better for a sort of hyperformulastic show like ‘Phineas and Ferb’- and ‘Phineas and Ferb’ is lovely, but Invader Zim really benefits from a wide variation of plots and episode structure.

(That’s also the problem with a Tallests-Zim Membrane-Dib roleswap. Although the idea of an P&F style sketch starring the two lazy goofball Invaders who are just trying to get their incredibly obnoxious and megalomaniac boss off their back and are repeatedly accidently foiled by a brilliant hypercompetent child genius who also somehow remains consistently oblivious to the fact that they are aliens trying to take over the world is very Fun and I should probably do something Separate with it later)

And then there’s the idea of a Zim-Gaz GIR-Dib roleswap which is… I don’t even know where to start. That’s pretty much what that one body-switch-themed guest issue of the IZ Comics used basically because it’s the one that breaks the show’s premise the most thoroughly. The show’s most ambitious and least competent character swapped with its least ambitious and most competent and the most grounded character is swapped with the most unhinged. I am still really stuck on how to make it work?

The only real idea I have for now is maybe taking inspiration from Alien Gaz from that aforementioned comic issue’s characterization - not of Gaz-as-Zim, but of Zim-as-Gaz. Something about an Alien Invader who is genuinely invested in conquering the planet but also she keeps getting distracted? It’s hard to really say when, like I said, that’s really the only thing I have right now.

Perhaps I need to think about all of this a bit more, or perhaps the real lesson of this Character Exploration Thingy is just that those kinda roleswaps just don’t work with the Invader Zim cast?

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pieroulette · 10 months

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Hiiiiii!

AHHHHH I'm so ready for all the &team requests to come through!

So my first request is for our beautiful boy K. Can I please request a one-shot kinda vibe where he tries to teach you one of their choreos (whatever your favourite one is) and you struggle a bit but he is so patient with you? Like he reassures you and shows you again. Just a fluffy ending where you are just crazy in love ♡

Thank youuuuuu!

THAT'S MY GIRL ! | KOGA YUDAI (K) &TEAM

warning : a little suggestive ig but it's all fluff lol

wc : 1.2k

author's note : i srsly dunno what to name this oneshot but bc of my 'desperation' to name each oneshot for aesthetic purposes for the masterlist, so yea 🗿

A series of panting left your mouth as you tried to execute the dance part in Firework’s chorus, which was apparently Kei’s part and the choreo he contributed for it. Well, it’s safe to say that the jumping part itself was the hardest to execute as every time you tried to do it, your feet proceeded to betray you by pointing in the other way. Mind you, you haven’t even learn past the jumping part despite flawlessly learning the intro’s choreo.

It feels as if your earlier petty arrogance got in the back of your head, and causing you to eat your own words eventually.

A breath of giggle echoes right through your ear, one that drips in honey, one that you’re very well familiar of. “You can do it, babe.”

“Seriously, how did you even came up with this choreo?” gripping your knees as you panted hard, your heart skipped a thousand thumps against your ribs in a millisecond—threatening to fly out at any moment.

Kei hummed in response, his eyes darting around the space as he leaned against the large mirror. “Just something I think would fit the chorus a lot, plus it screams desperation so I thought why not.”

“Yeah right, so much desperation that I couldn’t even execute this damn jump.”

“I just showed you the execution about maybe.. A thousand times?” His doe eyes pierce right through your soul, holding traces of playfulness.

“Shut up.”

Another audible giggle squeezes it way out of his mouth, a slight smirk with traces of grin adorned his plump lips. “C’mon babe, don’t you think you can do better than this? I’m rooting for you.”

“Stop teasing me.”

“Teasing you is my daily pleasure.”

You scoffed in return, turning your head in the other side with your arms crossed. Your little action itself had Kei shaking his head in amusement, approaching you ever so fast despite the small amount of steps he took, something that you very well know obviously rooted from his humongous height. Damn dude, just what did his parents fed him?

His large palms flattened above your head, ruffling your hair in tender motion as he lowers his head to compensate for his height. “Look at me, love.” You pouted with another inner scoff, audible enough for him to hear. To your surprise, something poke against your cheek and you realise it was his index finger paired with his adorable features contorting in his familiar mischievousness. “Dinner, later. Your reward, if you can get past the choreo I made. Sounds good?”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion with your mouth protruding in a slight pout, “You sure?”

“Did I ever lie, though?”

“Last time you did, with that goddamn Yuma. Stealing my candy bars.”

“You’ve been eating way too much, that’s for your own good—” you tried to protest but he interrupted you quickly by leaning even closer to your face, his lips pulling up in a growing smirk. “Just listen to me, I’ve never failed to reward you anyways.”

That alone had your ears heating up, his choices of words held a thousand meanings in it yet his expression confirms which exactly he meant. Yet you held the need to question him or whatnot, pulling away in attempts to soothe your rampant heart. “Alright, alright.”

You mentally slap yourself in your imaginary space, that even though you’ve dated Kei for at least six months—his choices of words, the way his doe eyes softened at your appearance, his hands touching you in utmost tender way as if you were such a fragile thing paired with his ungodly vibes—still wreck your mind in numerous ways possible, just like when your eyes first laid on him back then.

“Let’s try again, I’ll show you one more time.” Kei pulls up a supportive grin despite his earlier mischievousness, opting to press the play button for the speaker, in which the nerve-wracking song you’ve heard a thousand times today bled out and consumed the entire dance room in it’s booming retro synth pop.

The impact of his foot landing on the dance floor paired with his fast execution had your mind boggled despite already seeing it for numerous times from the music shows, live performance, and dance practices. The way he pushed himself up with extra detail with those miniscule movements hidden in the edges of his form had you admiring just how dedicated he was in perfecting his craft. It had the deception of zero to no difficulty yet when you perform it yourself, it dawned on you and made you wonder just how many times did Kei practise this in order to show to his teammates and the choreographer.

Such little things had your heartstrings pulled even closer and tighter around his hands.

“Did you got it? You just have to push your foot and spring upwards, like running you know but in the air—” Kei repeated each miniscule section of the choreo in the best way possible, as slow as he can for you to understand. Despite his playfulness and jokes, he never actually pick on your dancing skills nor complain about how many times it had take for you, as if he was truly attentive in what to say and what not to say.

With full-blown determination paired with your fists tightening, the speaker returned back to a few seconds in the song before proceeding with the booming chorus.

“One, two, three—” your feet slided down the floor resulting in a squeak of your rubber shoes as you executed the jump, the vocals of Kei soon followed after Nicholas’ which had your heart churning of what if’s yet you pushed through, ending it with by brushing your hand against your neck and raising it up in the air.

A series of claps emitted after the chorus, turning it down a few volumes down for you to realise it was from Kei who was leaning against the wall with a proud smile on his lips, and his pretty eyes curling in crescents—his dark grey orbs exudes satisfaction and yet infatuation—all for you. “Now that’s my girl.”

‘My girl.’ that particular sentence rang in your mind akin to a church’s booming bell, one that resembles a silent vow engrained in the words—that you are his girl, his one and only. An emergency light rang inside you as a grin threatens to squeezes it was out of your lips, but eventually you gave it up, crossing your arms. “Of course, I do. Now where’s my reward?”

Your eyes softened as it lingered on the way his tender black strands bouncing on top of his fluttering eyelashes, the ever so proud grin never ceases to exists in the corners of his lips as the audible sound of his shoes approached you. Halting his steps after enclosing the distance between the two of you showcases his towering height in a stark contrast of yours, you look up to him with a sentence repeating in a traces of disbelief—the fact that this man was all yours had you melting like a butter at this point.

“Your reward,” His palms met the side of your cheeks, caressing it in a way that had you closing your eyes in order to sense it in your swelling heart. “Can wait later, what if I teach you another choreo?”

Your breath hitched down your throat and your mind immediately processed the information with a manifestation down the veins of your hands, launching midway in the air as you slammed it down his chest—causing him to yelp in slight pain.

“I’m done, look at me, I’m all drenched.” You scoffed, “Learn it by yourself, Koga Yudai! I want my food!”

Kei shakes his head in amusement, following after you by swinging his arms around your shoulder. “Alright, alright. Food is it, gonna treat you so well then.”

#&team #andteam #&team fluff #andteam fluff #andteam reactions #koga yudai #&team k #andteam k #andteam scenarios #&team scenarios #&team reactions #&team x reader #&team imagines

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blurredout10 · 1 year

Text

This Is Not A Date

Upgraded Connor (RK900) | Nines/ Reader fanfic

Rating: Mature

Wordcount: 5560

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Intimacy, emotionally curious nines, groping, smut, p in v sex, rough, kinda soft kinda not lil boi

Link to AO3 here or continue below cut:

You envied him, really.

Holding down a forefinger, the imprint fogging your phone screen, the victim of your poking quite literally quivered under your fingertips; a damn bloody dating app. Its cornered ‘x’ be the only good idea it gave you since its offered romantic prospects surely weren’t.

It shakes a violent plead of mercy, like the castle clown prancing joyously, a jingle bell on its neck collar shaking its head desperate no’s where you snapped two fingers for its forthcoming executions. Disappointing. As per usual.

But punishing the joker meant nothing if its replacement came from the same circus. You downloaded another app, pinky peach hearts pictured on a mobile symbol, your expectations had sunk passed the depths of hell.

You were no less given the attention, a text ping except for a joker's bell. Despite Detroit’s ever-growing gene pool with the doubling population of both humans and androids, your huddle of situationships barely satisfied you, lacking a spark you so craved. Matches appeased your eyes, descriptions void of icky pick-up lines, but with every other text you were sent, something scrunched up your face worse than the last.

“Why are people so boring?” you vented to the brioche-scented air, very much aware that fine-tuned android ears had spaced out. You’d grown to suffer alone.

He didn’t have to worry about bearing the weight of carried conversations, he was perfect. Bloody hell looked it too.

Nines envied you equally, but for the opposite reasons.

There hadn’t been a day's rest of his HUD, notifications running haywire like sugar-induced children running laps in a playground. But even little humans collapsed in exhaustion — you did a lot of that — and energy was spent, Nines’ string of leeching matches never tired.

“How tall are you?”

“Glad we matched! My place or yours?”

“How big did they make you?”

“Boring indeed,” silencing the utter mess of thirsty texts, he turned his attention back onto you, a croissant half-stuffed in a stun where you hadn’t expected an answer. Flakes stuck to your lip as you chewed, fluttering eyelashes moaning for you at the fill of French delectables. Your reactions amused him. People were boring, indeed.

You, however, were quite interesting.

Many months of a developed friendship had the both of you puzzlingly closer. Intending to better work efficiency, Nines fed into your friendly advances, but he hadn’t expected to actually enjoy your company. You two had clicked like polar forces, self-fashioned laws of physics in your own little world together.

Nines, surprisingly, was a pretty handsome wall to talk to. You enjoyed every little teenage-like whisper of gossip you shared, to which the android’s sharp ears picked up on the latest in the DPD. You’d grown accustomed to his partially stiff persona as he did to your free-spirited one. The moon to your sun, and he surely brightened in your gifted happiness. Kindred souls hand-in-hand, shoulder-to-shoulder, you were there for him, and he was there for you.

Nines scoffed at deleting another chat thread with a persistent match mate.

It started as a joke. ‘I can get more bitches than you,’ though you knew you were speaking out of your ass. You did not, dare you say could not get more bitches than a man who mastered being a man, despite being made plastic and steel.

Eyes blue like arctic winds, soft but intimidatingly focused in burning through flesh, his face sculpted unfairly to turn heads his way. Broad shoulders and a narrow waist that looked good in anything, even you could admit that. You were no stranger to getting asked about his romantic status.

The sheer size of him shifted uncomfortably in the little bakery’s equally little seats, shoulders swallowing the back of his chair as if his steel spine served a replacement. Discomfort, albeit making him stir again to lean forward with a frustrating twitch of brows, was still foreign to him; a bitterness that squirmed deep in his chassis. It had taken a while to identify and label the feeling.

Experience was the tutor in the study of emotional understanding. Experience was his guide to an emotionally coloured world and discomfort was by far the dullest, sluggish and unattractive hue he’d come across.

Nines heard an audible moan deep from your chest, satisfaction making you lick buttered fingers clean. Your palate cleansed except for pastry bits on your plate, following a trail to your lap, above your chest and still on your bottom lip. You, however, were that bit of colour that sagged his shoulders, the bit of colour that made him agree to silently accompany your weekly brunch ravishment.

His chest shook in a chuckle at seeing you no less a mammal in its habitat, wild and careless, waving away thrown looks at your poor table etiquettes. Hair frenzied in a mess, your posture slouched as if you owned the ground around you, you had a flair of contentment with everything you did. Interesting human, indeed.

“I wasn’t aware wearing your afternoon brunch was socially acceptable,” he quipped and your eyes widened, patting hands rubbing away crumbs that doubled his laughter. Croissant bits projectile in his direction, ultimately landing on the table and his lap.

Your phone announced itself, a text ping waking up your screen with the surprising icon of a newly downloaded dating app. Flat on the table, Nines perked in out of curiosity. Your spread grin was better at drawing his attention.

It could only mean one thing.

“I’ve got a date on Friday.”

-.—.-

It just happened.

Somehow in some weirdly fated way, you and Nines had your dates aligned. When you’d dress up for a dinner evening, he’d be suited up for one couple of roads down. The forgotten competition falling into a routine of complimenting each other’s outfits, you pointlessly fixing his collar and escorting either into another’s hands.

As expected, you’d gasp at the sight of his fitted dress shirt, threaded buttons pulled taunt to the rise and fall of his chest. Bigger biceps smoothed into the arms of his blazer, an icy pair of eyes that’d drop anyone to their knees; you watched appreciatively, blessing your eyes with what his dates would be so lucky to sit across.

Dang, he looked good. Who needed dinner if desert sat inches away?

And he’d eye you similarly, following the curves and dips of your dresses, a taunting hug of fabric an extension of your skin leaving little to the imagination, not that he had any. Loose silk that hung low, embraced your thighs just right, it was enough to have you smiling at your reflection. You liked to look like this, beautifully sexy, earning heart eyes from victims you’d never contact again.

Nines was effortlessly attractive, but you sure believed you were too, and confidence was already half the charm. There was a reason your dating race lingered neck-and-neck, people wanted him and people wanted you.

Still, you didn’t understand why serial dating was so damn hard.

Nines excused his admiring as a friendly reciprocal to yours and then you interlinked arms, trotting in pretty shoes to leave some date awestruck.

Struck, definitely, so much so they didn’t show.

“Fucking flunked on me,” all of your hours getting ready wasted for nothing. A dangling table light held you in spotlight, the universe laughing at your misery. The waiter dared to make a brief visit, scurrying away when you shot daggers, Phone glued to your ear, you lined a fork with distracted fingers, “I went through all that effort, for what?”

“He dodged a bullet,” Nines teased, a smirk leaking into your speakers. You groaned annoyingly, a tad bit hurt though you’d never mention it. Nines only chuckled, “are you not hungry?”

“Of course, I am,” your volume had diners eavesdropping, you lowered it, “but I’m not gonna sit here and eat alone like some… loner .”

An elderly woman leaned into your line of sight, doing little to mask her judgement.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sighed, straightening up subconsciously. Nines remained silent, a little something nagged you, “tell me you have better luck than me.”

He did. Unlike you, Nines was glad his date didn’t show.

“Unfortunately, detective, I have been cancelled on too.”

“No. Way.”

So, obviously, the next step pretty much carved itself out. You were both in need of a nice dinner, dressed to impress, and without your respective dates. Nines took no longer than necessary to join you, filling in the void of an empty seat as you did for him.

This happened again, from your silk dress to a casual getup, and again, from fancy dining to amusement parks. From black tie gallery visits to turtleneck picnic dates. You found it harder to believe Nines was getting cancelled on when he kept miraculously showing up.

It wasn’t a date, even if it always looked like it and you’d get ready as such. Painted lips smiled at him rather than some other guy, and neither of you was complaining about it.

Upon reaching the front of the queue to an ice cream cart, did someone first state the obvious.

“Here’s one for you and a drink for your partner.”

You stilled, “oh, we’re not- he’s not-"

“Thank you,” Nines took your waffle cone, giving it a tasteful lick before handing it to you. He walked away before you could protest.

“What was that?” You fell behind his longer strides struggling, Nines always found it amusing.

“What was what?” Pale flickers of his eyes were a tell of his naivety, “are we not partners?”

Work ones, sure. “Pretty sure she was calling you my date.”

For his advanced prototype kinks, he hadn’t preconstructed that theory. It was his turn to freeze, the ice of his irises solidifying the rest of his body, the only tell that he hadn’t fallen stasis being an amber spin on his temple. His abrupt halt had you bumping into his back with a grunt.

Though your complaints died into laughter at seeing him so… off guard.

“It’s not so bad,” you nudged him, elbow meeting his midriff, its proximity to his thirium pump regulator pulled a heavy huff through his voice. You winked, “you’d be lucky to score with me.”

Park attendees walked in their chatter, dogs let off their leashes, rolling in the glass with both furry flesh and synthetic plastic alike. Families shared inside jokes, children playfully screaming on the lake’s perimeter. Information coded everywhere in his scans, the broken grid of his deviancy reminding him of his freedom.

But he grew overwhelmed around you.

The past few mutual flunks hadn’t exactly been… mutual. The moment you’d text him your date was boring, or the guy left you hanging again, he’d be the one to disappear mid-mingling and scurry away to accompany you. Surely, that’s what it meant to be a good friend, right?

He wasn’t looking to replace your flings. He just merely wanted to be there for you. Be a light of colour as you had been for him so many times before.

Nines blinked erratically, warning ambers giving him away.

“Jeez, I’m not that bad,” you joked but he caught wrinkled brows of concern, following another lighter playful nudge on his arm. The contact teetered on the edge of overwhelming his processors.

Neither of you talked about it.

On came another Friday evening, a ping reminding you of a ‘Tomas’ looking forward to seeing you. Your dressing table mirror applauded the artistry of makeup whilst you merrily shoed up, throwing a text back via that dating app 2.0.

“I’m so sorry! Can we reschedule?”

“No show again,” you sighed, lying out of your ass, “how’s that android with the green hair doing for you?”

“I’m afraid she does not feel interested anymore,” also a lie, Nines had pretty much blocked the persistent woman.

Getting comfortable in the back row of your local cinema, which was supposed to be Nines escapade for the day, he passed you a popcorn bag, one he’d already bought for you. Lights dimmed at the title screen, Nines sneaked a glance at you, silently admiring the palette of your makeup. Nines liked it when you played with pigments, orange and purples finely painted on eyelids, bringing out the colour of your eyes. It pleasantly stimulated him.

“What?” Curving in a half-smile, you caught his ogling.

“You look lovely, detective,” it was pretty much routine at this point, to compliment you. Though this time, the air hung heavier, the smile never making it to his lips, his thirium pump straining for a beat when your vitals jolted the slightest.

He said it so sincerely; why did he sound so different? Your retort wasn’t given voice, a prickle of shivers meeting your extremities in a blush, you were glad the darkness covered for you.

You swallowed down. He cleared his throat. The movie went on. But the heat of your body, the subconscious leaning on his arm, close enough he could decode the product in your hair, the movie wasn’t plenty distraction.

And as if rA9 evilly taunted him, a couple cornered in the cinema audibly moaned, latched onto each like horny teenagers. You bobbed your brows at him, ‘kids these days’, but your skin grew hotter, ultimately arising a glitch or two in his system.

“The movie was great,” you gulped a smile when he walked you home, kicking lone rocks, eyes weighed to the pavement, “I guess, I’ll- I’ll see you.”

“Yes-,” he spoke too quickly, nodding, “I wish you a good night, detective.”

You blinked, “you too. Goodnight to you too.”

“Thank you.” His feet shuffled, “I shall go now.”

“Get home safe, alright? Goodnight, Nines.”

“Take care, detective.”

Awkward couldn’t even begin to describe it.

-.—.-

The competition was long gone, dating threads snipped weeks ago when you decided to delete the apps once and for all. Nines had pulled from the single scene even before you did, gulping down excuses as to why he decided to bail on all his prospects.

“No, we’re friends,” you’d say. Friends that helped each other down a couple drinks. Friends that slow-danced at New Jericho’s fancy dress party, to which Connor had invited you both. Friends that publicly teased each other with a flutter of eyelashes and hot heavy breaths.

“Since when were you two dating?”

“This is not a date!”

Said you at a party where Nines was your plus one, glued to your side like your extension.

It was getting ridiculous.

Eventually, neither of you spoke about seeing other people, just assuming the other would turn up. On paper, and even in person, you both looked pretty stupid in denial.

But one night, clinking afters with your department crew, did the dusted line between friendship and something more sharpen, something that made sense in the entanglement of your not-dates with Nines.

Officer Wesley was clear in the intention to woo you and have you in bed, playfully raking his gaze and hissing out a compliment. He leaned in closer, elbow atop the bar front with a daring smile. Admittedly, you missed the thrill of being a tease, slipping your tongue out to wrap around the straw but not enough to give him a show. Wesley caught on your game, and for the officer he was, he’d happily play cat and mouse.

But this time, things felt different and flirting with the dirty-blonde man felt wrong. Flirting with anyone felt wrong. And you couldn’t understand why.

You flickered in the RK900’s direction, only to find him already watching Wesley talk you up at the bar. A heartbeat thumped particularly loudly when he held your eye contact, leaning back in his booth whilst tonguing his straw similarly to how you had done it.

Fucking hell.

“So, how about that drink?” The officer reminded, thumbing at the display of bottles behind the counter.

Holy shit. You didn’t want to be like every other victim to the reeling of those darkened blue eyes, you weren’t like that.

With a double take, you caught that damn triumph smirk on his face, as if he could see exactly what that tongue did to you, being on the receiving end of it. Fuck him, you wouldn’t let him win.

Nines’ smirk faded as soon as you gave the officer your undivided attention, edging your barstool. Your touch crawling up his arm, soft lips leaning closer to his ear and speaking just out of earshot. It had the android inexplicably grinding teeth.

That was another thing about deviancy it had taken him a while to calibrate; urges. The urge to partake in conversation, or flee from it even, the urge to tease you to the point your cheeks were coloured tomatoes. It was this urge that had an added darkness looming over you, two icicles boring into the back of your head.

Sixth sense tied a thick knot in your throat.

Wesley cleared his throat too, sitting up straighter, “Nines, you ah - you good?”

The android didn’t look it, stalking over your shoulder like he’d no less bite into your neck and suck you dry in one go. But if this officer be a conquest you wanted to take to home, Nines would personally help you put on a show.

That’s what good friends did, right? Help each other?

He slitted fingers between chunks of your hair, pulling your head aside abruptly, the contact freezing you in place. You gasped as he lowered his mouth, speaking to the shell of your ear but loud enough for Wesley to pick it up, “we know you want to fuck our little detective, officer.”

Nines dragged his lips against heated skin, tongue peeking out to taste you. And just as he expected, his HUD blasted with paintballs of colour at the encoding, his pump fluttering when your lashes did so.

His other hand dragged up your waist, curving at the shape of your breasts and ghosting over your nipples. Lips replaced his tongue, and a trail of android saliva burned into your skin in his venturing down your throat. You took a staggering breath, forcing your eyes open, not realising they had closed.

“Your advances could use some work,” Nines spoke to Wesley, the man’s larynx bobbing at the sight of you melting.

Large palms curled inwards on your thighs, pushing them apart on display and kneading flesh through fabric. You held back a moan, biting down on the feeling of leaking arousal. God, when did Nines feel so good?

Nines smiled against your skin, lipsing down the expanse of your neck whilst you pretty much leaned to give him more room. His tongue prodded and lined the length of your passing artery, tasting your fastening pulse, you shivered under him. Even if rendered speechless, your body did the talking.

Wesley couldn’t decide where to look, Nines prompted further.

“You just need a little push.”

Fingers roughly pressing between your legs, one push of a massage that forced a moan deep from your chest, and Nines retreated, taking a large step back. Wesley looked half as shocked as you did, your jaw clenching in the realisation of what just happened.

Nines leaned carelessly on the bar, unbothered in leaving you aroused. That was his intention, no? To give you and your prospect a push in getting things going? Which is why he blinked confusingly when you shoved him, a frustrated scowl leaving your lips before you stomped out. Wesley sat glued to his chair, still recovering. Nines ran out after you.

Light patters of rain met his scalp upon catching up to you. You groaned when he called your name.

“You can’t just- do that!” You yelled, frustration grating your throat, showers dampening your hair, “you can’t just-“

The android remained still, attempting to understand you with a series of yellow circles.

“You can’t just touch me like that, Nines!”

But his touch had arisen positive responses, his brow furrowed in confusion, “why?”

You stumbled, eyes widening, “why- why? What do you mean why? You can’t go around touching up random people! It’s- it’s wrong!”

You weren’t random people. Nines processed for a moment, rain splatters snugging the fabric of his sweater against his skin. His scanners quickly caught your gulp, “did you not enjoy it, detective? I assumed he needed a little push.”

You blinked again, dumbfounded. Who gave him the right to put on a show for Wesley? What on Earth goes on in that metal brain of his?

“That’s not- I wasn’t going to go home with him,” water collected on your lashes, “I don’t want him.”

A wave of understanding struck him. He had misunderstood you and his ‘help’ stood void of reason. And recalling the way he stalked over you, no reconstruction software helped in justifying what he did, because the urge didn’t do it for you, it did it for himself.

The warmth of your chest invited him, kisses digging into the valley of your neck whilst he continually decoded the electrolyte contents of your sweat. It quite literally fuelled him.

Deviancy was a strange thing, though the only explanation for why Nines wanted to taste you again; he wanted to hear you breathe out his name, shaking with need, begging for more.

You shivered under water pellets, the silence weighing down each of your breaths. And hidden in the muddle of conflicted feelings, you craved Nines to touch you again, give you a warmth in frozen winds. Neither of you moved, and the ghostly burn of his lips longed for his return.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, straying away from his scanners.

He wasn’t your date. You weren’t together. But hell, if the assumptions of such didn’t make your heart flutter, you didn’t know what will. Besides, Nines was the embodiment of allurement, poised and perfect, what would he do with the likes of you?

Arms wrapped around to wade off the cold, teeth chattering, you blinked a few before turning away to walk to your car, the gusts of wind trying to push you back. Nines wouldn’t see you as anything more than a friend, you were sure of it, but your disappointment was cut short when a firm grip latched around your wrist.

He twisted you, swallowing a squeak with a collided kiss. The colours returned, blinding him tenfold in pretty pinks and bubbly yellows, prompting him to press a hand firmly on the base of your skull and keep you there.

The tension in your spine remained, but you quickly came out of shock and fervently returned the moulding of your lips with his, hand trailing the flex of his pecs, damp fabric squelching under fingertips.

The hand on your wrist migrated to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His tongue poked into your mouth, making you gasp at the added anatomy whilst he curled around ravishingly, wet sounds amidst the ambient splashes of rain. Both of your minds dazed, Nines blinking ambers at devouring you and you suddenly patting his chest with a light push.

He pulled back to let you breathe but returned mid-inhale, this time eagerly tilting his head to see what better fit. He made out the whisper of his name between kisses, responding with an approving groan.

“Nines,” you tried again, water running streams down your back as it poured heavier. You wondered if hypothermia was worth it, “nines, wait-”

He kissed you passionately, hoping to swallow the colour of lips and paint his innards as such. Though he eased, slowing to a stop and you panted onto his jaw. He took in the sight, mimicked tears streaking your blue eyeshadow and mascara under the rain, he fought the urge to prod his tongue in your mouth again.

He awaited your rejection. As you loved to remind everyone, Nines wasn’t your date, always the friend accompanying you instead. He’d be lying if he said watching you with other people didn’t bother him.

But you didn’t scold him, nor push him away in a fury. You smiled, a toothy grin that you failed to bite away and broke into a soft giggle, “we’re in the middle of a street,” you shook your head, leaning a fraction of an inch closer, “and I’m soaking wet.”

Nines pulled into a smirk, “you’re welcome.”

There, the cherry rouge of your cheeks, that was another part of you he wished to consume wholly, preferably with his tongue.

Everyone else felt wrong, but Nines felt right.

And upon passing the threshold of your home, Nines proved the feeling to be mutual by meeting your lips again, vocally praising you when your arms wrapped around his neck. Kicking the door shut, his biceps wrapped you tight, squeezing the air in your lungs and suctioning it straight into his chassis.

He stepped you back, tongue dancing with yours, his fingers tucking away wet hair from your face. You gasped as you hit the wall behind you, his hip bucking into yours with a noticeable erection.

Hands rummaged under clothing, your damp shirt peeling off your skin with a gust of cold, leaving your hairs on end. The foyer’s air, however, grew dense when Nines hungrily eyed your body. Calm blue of his LED blinked an amber and he suddenly threw you over his shoulder.

“Nines!” You shrieked, your protests dying as he caressed the back of your thigh. He carried you to your bedroom, bouncing you onto the mattress with a look that kept you frozen. You gulped in anticipation as he undressed whilst you were only stripped of your shirt.

“Your body temperature has dropped to lower ranges,” he knelt between your legs, clasping your wrists immobile and kissing you into the sheets. You arched into him, gasping at the skin-to-synthetic contact. His lips ghosted to tongue at your jaw, a wet pad of the plastic muscle running up just below your ear.

“I must heat you.”

“You’re as cold as they come,” he pulled back to meet your remark, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. Nines kissed your collar, the sound of compensatory breaths prompting him to lower to your bra, unclasp it and swirl a perked nipple with his tongue.

The moon slitted through blinds, painting him a blue that matched his temple. A warm breath breezed over your lower abdomen, fingers gripping the hem of your pants and shimmying them off. Wet skin made you sensitive to his touch, a tingling working overtime where he wrapped around your thighs, his lips hovering over your remaining underwear.

Of all your dating partners, specifically those you had slept with, only a handful of them had been androids, and it never made it passed foreplay. Whether that be inexperience or hesitance, flings would be done after a touch-up.

Nines had his fair share of sexual partners, learning what got people going and what fed his desires. But your unfiltered storytelling exposed you of kinks and likes that a curious android like Nines couldn’t help fantasising about.

What would you look like under him? How did you sound when forced a rolling orgasm to ripple through you?

A devilish smile made his lips before he took your undergarments in his teeth, lust-blown eyes watching how you shivered at the sight of him dragging them off. Wrapping around you twice as tight, he gave you a flat lick from slit to bud, pushing down your hips to stop your squirming. He was glad to find you were, indeed, soaking wet.

Having him right there, head of brown bobbing up and down, experimentally sliding his tongue in places you didn’t know existed, the sight of him had you biting your lower lip, trying to chew down an embarrassing whimper.

His tongue made circles around your clit, flickering left and right at a gasping pace. Your hands found his scalp, splitting his hair into sizeable chunks, holding on like the handlebars of a rollercoaster; and the way he looked at you, pupils swallowing icy blue into a predatory black, a shiver ran down your back, clenching your thighs against his biceps.

Wet muscle prodded into your slit, eliciting a moan. You almost squealed when his thumb continued to press patterns on your clit whilst tongue-fucking you into the sheets. You pulled at the root of soft, chestnut hair, and he only picked up the pace, having you pant in line with his pace.

You tipped over unexpectedly, crying out your orgasm with an abrupt push against his mouth. Nines crawled above you again, making you taste yourself with a deep, sharp kiss.

To see you like this, body quivering for his touch, an undertone of pink blushing your skin, his field of vision saturated in the colour of you. He wanted more. He wanted to see you come undone again, paint you an orgasm that would stain him for the rest of his android existence. Maybe he understood why Markus created art so often, maybe abstract understanding was closer than he realised. Nines wished for nothing more than to place you high on a pedestal or pin you against the wall for reasons other than framing you a painting.

“Every date you were bailed on,” he whispered confessions on your skin, gently lipsing your shoulders, “I cancelled mine to join you.” You stiffened under him, muscles taunt under his lips, he clarified, “I’d much rather have you than anyone else, detective.”

Of course. You were right. Nines wouldn’t get bailed on that often, it was impossible. You mustered up enough air to speak, “if we’re confessing, I deleted the apps weeks ago.”

Like the robot he was, he halted mid-kiss, a shifting yellow giving him away as it did back at the ice cream cart. You were both lying to each other, simply to be in each other’s company.

You added with a tease, “you don’t have to lie to score a date with me, Nines.”

“I thought I was ‘not a date’,” blue-greys accused you.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both pretty stupid then.”

Your smile brightened the room, despite moonlight barely filtering through your windows, corners bordering darkness. Nines mirrored the grin, dipping down to kiss you with a newfound heaviness in his chest. He pulled off his briefs, lips never leaving yours, and lined himself between spread thighs.

Your breath hitched at the stretch of muscle when he pushed in, barely giving you time to adjust and pushing in further until he bottomed out. Or at least you hoped he did, you weren’t sure if you could take any more of him.

Breathing in each other's pants, he rocked slowly, fingers bruising your wrists, lips bruising your neck. Nines grew desperate to see you in the colour of his lips, turning purples in broken blood vessels. His pelvis smacked again your clitoris, grinding an added stimulation, your head rolling back, moaning his name right into his ear.

Setting a brutal pace abruptly, swallowing squeals in messy lip-locking, Nines stretched you to the teetering line of pain and pleasure, the head of his cock driving into a sensitive spot that jolted your nerves in bliss. He rutted like an animal, resting his forehead on yours, fucking you with a harsh snap of hips, your legs could only hold on for dear life. He loved to see the dip between your brows, raccoon-faced from messy makeup. It made him twitch inside of you.

“You feel so good. You look perfect,” he praised, bringing two fingers under your jaw to prompt eye contact. You met his darkened expression, his rouge curl tickling your forehead. Thumb shaping your lips, he pushed in knuckle-deep, pressing down on your tongue. You gave an instinctive suck as he growled, “you’re mine.”

Every thrust brought about a new sound from your throat, and with your mouth forced half-open, there was little you could do to stop them. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling at a rolling orgasm, the sounds of sex driving you to buck into him as he did you.

You were desperate, needy, and what was left of Nines’ restraint was snapped. He fucked hard, muttering profanities as he edged closer, seeing you at the mercy of everything he gave you flipping him inside out.

He wanted to see you like this, again and again. His thumb subconsciously retracted his simulated skin, a ripple in your mouth that diverted your attention, and a glowing blue lit up from below the whites of his hand. An interface, the both of you realised. You moaned at his display of intimacy.

Nines staggered into you, losing his rhythm.

You looked good in blue.

“Come for me.”

And with sharp thrusts, you arched into a mind-blowing orgasm, limbs shaking as he continually dragged in and out to chase his own. He spilled with a throb, panting at the chance of painting you inwards as you did to him, and watched the slowed pumping of where the both of you connected.

Though upon spotting a trail of blueish white leaking out of you, his hips bucked involuntarily, eager for another round.

You moaned in euphoria, and that was enough for him to keep going.

It was no surprise Nines adored the sight of you decorated in his markings, growling in every painted colour you presented. So, the next steps carved themselves, and you had a great idea for your next date.

Painting.

#dbh fanfic #nines x reader #nines rk900 #rk900 #dbh smut #dates #detroit become human #dbh #need me some emotionally curious nines

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izumi-fanclub · 10 months

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A3! Translation: Chikage Utsuki SSR Card “Wizard of Death” [ The Western, Northern Wizards and the Ruler of Darkness ]

Citron and Itaru are up to something again and they pull in Chikage to join in their antics.

Part 1

Izumi Chikage-san, should I prepare dinner for you tonight? Chikage Sure, I’m headed out after this but I’ll be back by evening. I’ll be here for dinner. Itaru Then, that means you’ll be back pretty early today, huh… Citron It looks like everyone is here! Izumi Huh? Citron-kun, isn’t that the script for “The Wonderful Charlatan of Oz”? Citron That it is! Itaru “The Wonderful Charlatan of Oz” well, isn’t that just nostalgic. Chikage It hasn’t been that long since I last starred in a play. Izumi But, why do you have the script on you? Citron I have felt like reading up on our past scripts just now. Then I recalled how fun it was to play the role of the Wizard of the North in the play. So, I was itching to play the role again and convincing people to join me! Chikage That explains it. Itaru Can’t deny that it was pretty fun being a wizard. Citron Reading the script now, I think about how I could have moved differently during this line. Chikage I get it, I did what I could back then, but now that I got more experience, I’m sure I can execute it better. Izumi I also have stuff I wish I’ve done better, like the staging. Itaru Now that we’re talking about it, I kinda wanna play the Wizard of the West… Citron Oh! I have finally dragged someone to act with! Itaru, do an etude with me! Itaru No problemo. Citron Chikage as well!? Chikage Sorry to disappoint, I was just on my way out. Citron Oh, how unfortunate! Then, it will be Itaru and I against the world! Let us make haste! Chikage I’ll take that as my cue to leave too. Izumi Take care, everyone!

Itaru …Phew, that’s enough etudes outta me. Citron, let’s take a break. Citron Gotcha, a break it is! Itaru Still though, it’s fun playing the villain-like Wizard of the West. Citron I as well, I like the kind and worrywart Wizard of the North that believed in Oz. It is fun to play them! Kazunari Otsupiko! Itaroon, you got a sec~? Ronron, you’re here too! Itaru What’s up? Kazunari You good with helping me out with some art paper for uni? Citron Fart vapor! Kazunari So close! It is a paper☆ Itaru Art paper… That’s perfect, actually. Kazunari Perfect how? Citron You just gave us an idea! Itaru Exactly.

Part 2

Itaru Director-san, do we have any red pens or paint? Izumi Red coloring materials…? Probably in the storage room. But, doesn’t Kazunari-kun have any paints? Itaru Oh right, I’ll go ask him about it. By the way, can you give me the go to use some pens from the storage room? Izumi All good. Citron Also, please let us use the light and smoke machine as well. Izumi Huh, smoke machine? Sure, but what for? Citron It is a secret! Itaru If Citron says so, then it’s a secret. Citron Itaru, let us go to the storage room right away! Itaru Omw. Izumi (What in the world are those two up to?)

Chikage … (I’m already in front of our room, but I have a feeling that something bad is gonna happen if I open it.) (Now, what to do…) (For now, I’ll have dinner first. Director-san must be preparing it right now.) Citron Chikage, what is up? Chikage Nah, nothing much really. Citron Just now, you have tried to run away! Chikage No way, I would never. Citron My eyes do not deceive me! *Citron grabs Chikage, to his surprise* Citron Chikage, you have nowhere to run! I got you now! Chikage Wait… *Chikage gets dragged by Citron*

Chikage This is… (A magic circle and smoke machine…? …My hunch was pretty much right on the nose.) Itaru “‘O infamous one who eats away at nations, answer my call of resurrection and come forth before me.” Citron “Halt, Wizard of the West!” Itaru “I summon you… Grosser Zatan!” Citron Stand over here, Chikage. Chikage You mean on this magic circle…? Itaru “The summoning is a success! Now the land will bow before me.” Chikage (I feel Chigasaki’s line of sight on me…) (I see… I’ve been summoned by the Wizard of the West as the one to take over the nation.) (Looks like I’ll have to go along with this…)

Part 3

Citron “Aah… It is too late… The Wizard of the West has manifested upon us a being of undeniable evil.” Itaru “Grosser Zatan, from here on out, you will assist me in ruling this land for the taking.” Chikage No can do. Citron “Wizard of the West, and Grosser Zatan, you shall not torment this land and its people any longer!” Chikage (The illusion of free will. I got no choice.) (Guess I’ll just go with these two’s etude and get it over with.) Sigh… “That is correct. I am who they call Grosser Zatan. Who dares summon me?” Itaru “It is I, yes. Lend me your strength, and we shall be the rulers of this nation.” Citron “Not as long as I am around! Grosser Zatan, return to the magic circle!” Chikage “I decide what I am to do with my power. I will not let mere wizards dictate my actions.” “Wizard of the West, for my power, what do you offer me in return?” Itaru “Fuu… It appears that you won’t help out for free.” “How interesting, that’s the Great Lord of Darkness Grosser Zatan for you.” “Very well. In exchange for your power, I offer up my soul!” Citron “You’ll not only destroy the country, but yourself if you continue on with this!” Itaru “Would love nothing more.” Citron “Wizard of the West!” Chikage “Your soul, huh… not bad at all. I might consider this deal…” Itaru Ah… Chikage …? Citron Director!? Chikage Ahh, in the flesh. How long have you been here, Director-san? Izumi Umm, I’m sorry for interrupting! I thought you heard me knock. Itaru I didn’t notice at all… Chikage Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you came actually. Izumi Eh, how come? Chikage If Director-san hadn’t come, I probably would have stayed as a summoned entity for a while.

[ Option 1: Summoned…? ]

Izumi Summoned…? Chikage Yup, I’m talking about this over here. Director-san really is a savior, if it weren’t for you I would have destroyed the nation. Izumi I… I see…?

[ Option 2: I would have wanted to see more ]

Izumi I would’ve wanted to see more. Chikage In the middle of this full-blown etude? Izumi I’m kind of edged to see whether Grosser Zatan will destroy the land or not. Chikage … Director-san, since what point were you watching from? Izumi Hehe, it’s a secret. Chikage A secret… Sigh.

Izumi The etude looked like a lotta fun though! Citron It was a lot of fun! Izumi So this is what the red pens and smoke machine were for. Itaru Sets the mood, doesn’t it? Izumi The atmosphere is perfect! I was shocked when I opened the door. I thought I just opened a portal a magical world… Chikage You’re not that far off. Izumi You know, Chikage-san pulls off such villainous roles so well. I should try talking Tsuzuru-kun into getting you in a role like that next time. Itaru He doesn’t even need to act. Chikage In exchange for giving you power, shall I wipe your face off this land? Itaru I’ll pass. Citron Join in on us, Director! Itaru Come on, let’s do it Director-san. Izumi Huh, me too!? Chikage Wait a second, you came here for something, right, Director-san? Izumi Ah, that’s right! I finished preparing Chikage-san’s meal and I wondered what was up since you weren’t in sight. That’s why I came to check up on you. Chikage Oh yeah, I asked you to warm it up. I’ll go and have dinner then. Izumi But aren’t you in the middle of an etude? Chikage The food will get cold so that’s it for the etude for now. I can just have another etude with Chigasaki and Citron any other time, so it’ll be fine. Itaru Eh, weren’t we just getting started though? Citron Are we already finished with the etude!? It is too soon~!

Story Clear!

#a3 #a3!#a3 translation #a3! translation #chikage utsuki #utsuki chikage #itaru chigasaki #chigasaki itaru #citron

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exilepurify · 1 year

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The first OVA for MP100 has really interesting connotations in terms of what Reigen actually knows about Mob’s experiences. Reigen’s the one who’s narrating the recap, so we can assume the perspective and the things he mentions are solely based on his own understanding of the situation.

Obviously the nature of a recap episode is that not every detail can be included, and I recognize that I might be applying meaning to what may just be limitations of the form, but it’s fun to speculate about the meeting of meaning and execution, so why not, right?

When Reigen is describing the events of season 1, he completely skips over Teruki strangling Mob. If it’s meant to be a recap for the audience, the strangling was maybe the most important thing to happen in the whole fight other than the ???% explosion. It’s where Teruki’s worldview starts to break down, it’s a moment where Teruki’s desperation causes him to betray his own moral boundaries (“What am I doing???”), and it’s where we first learn about Mob hurting Ritsu—the inciting incident for quite literally every single thing that happens in the entire plot of Mob Psycho 100. But not only does Reigen not mention those at all, they also don’t show any footage of it happening. It skips directly from the knives to Mob’s ???% explosion.

In the scene that happens in S1E6, where Mob asks Reigen about what qualifies as self defense, Mob mentions balding Teruki, shredding his clothes, destroying his school, and throwing him up in the air, but he doesn’t mention Teruki strangling him to Reigen. Ever.

Mob also never tells Reigen about the incident where he hurt his brother with his ???% explosion as kids. He mentions to Reigen that his powers are dangerous and that he’s scared of hurting people, but his guilt compels him to never mention the specifics of the event to anyone but Ritsu. And directly because of Reigen never knowing the severity of Mob’s concerns, he underestimates Mob’s internal struggles and even trivializes them sometimes, which is why he has the whole “I didn’t know!!!!” moment in the finale. If he knew that guilt was eating Mob alive like that, he would’ve handled it better than he did, obviously.

Instead, Mob writes in that part himself, sitting alone in his bedroom, rather than transcribing what Reigen is narrating. And even when he does write about it, he chooses to say very little in detail. The audience sees the whole scene play out to fulfill the purpose of the recap, but Mob’s internal dialogue—which is reading out in his head what he’s currently writing—says (in the dub bc it’s the one I currently have downloaded for amvs lol), “When my brother, Ritsu, was little, he would get really happy whenever I showed him my powers. But, because I hadn’t learned how to control them, I ended up hurting the brother I loved so much. Because of me, Ritsu…” And from here it transitions immediately to the alley scene. He really doesn’t even say much. When a kid says they hurt their brother, the first things that come to your mind usually aren’t all that serious. It’s pretty common for siblings to hit and bite (sorry to my older sister—I was a biter 😬) and stuff sometimes, especially when young. No one would assume he was talking about pretty serious head trauma from just that.

He does, apparently, know about Mob and Teru torturing Terada via waterboarding. I’m assuming Teru told him that part. It certainly wasn’t Terada. He seems to think the torture is hilarious, though. “*in a laughing, smug voice* This poor soul was tortured and embarrassed. He was in way over his head—literally.” It kinda was, tbf.

Obviously the integrity of the story starts going straight off the rails at this point, with Reigen poorly photoshopping himself into every scene to fulfill his chuunibyou complex. I’m just going to blanket assume that everything Reigen knows about Mob’s actions in the claw division before he arrived there himself comes from a mixture of Mob’s bare-bones reporting and Teruki bragging about the details of power level and technique and stuff.

When it comes to Mob’s 100% rejection and defeating Muto, Reigen openly admits to only knowing of his existence through hearsay and that Mob doesn’t remember how he defeated him. However, for the sake of recap, the audience is shown the full scene of Mob hitting the ceiling on his counter and freaking out, so that’s another interesting dichotomy between Reigen’s understanding of the story vs. what we are shown as the audience in the recap.

And then everything after this point was witnessed by Reigen firsthand, so it’s not so much about his understanding of the situation than it is about the way he’s framing it (which is poorly).

Anyway, it’s super clear that even back in season 1, Reigen had no idea what was actually going on with Mob. And if he did, he didn’t know the ways it was affecting him, or the most heartbreaking details had been fully excluded.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #mp100 spoilers #reigen arataka #shigeo kageyama #mp100 ova #mp100 analysis #mp100 meta

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callipraxia · 16 days

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The Interview: A Running 'Live' Commentary

Well, you asked, kinda, @the-orion-scribe...

Disclaimer: One of my…things is that where there is a transcript, I'm gonna read the transcript first and then may or may not tackle the audio version later. As such, I'm inevitably going to get some of the subtler bits indicated by gesture and tone of voice wrong. I hope it won't be anything that significantly changes the meaning, but we shall see. I'm doing this live, (redact) it! And partially on my work breaks at that, so apologies if anything gets repetitive or disjointed as a result of different bits being read several hours apart. Full transcript is available here from, I believe, @fordtato, who seems like awesome cool folks.

That all said, let's begin.

[On the SAG-AFTRA strikes]

Alex's grandmother was an actress? Interesting. Also, generally approve of the sentiments stated there, very good, no actual notes.

[On the pilot and the 'Next On' reel]

When I was a much, much younger Callipraxia, I also had an interest in TV work - we had this class at my middle school call Careers, and we had to do a research project on, well, a career every year, and one year I did mine on being a soap opera writer (early nineties soap operas were my first literary influences, and I suspect it still shows). I therefore find this glimpse into the industry fascinating, even though I don't have much to say about it beyond giggling at the image of executives having such reptilian, limited-intelligence brains that they could be tricked into thinking something already exists and therefore just approving it so they don't have to think about why they're being asked to approve something that already exists because it would make their heads hurt.

"I was working...on a cartoon called 'Flapjack.'"

I'm 99% sure I've never seen a single frame of this show, but also 99% sure I've heard of it somehow. Not sure why. No idea what 'Fish Hooks' is, though.

"Then, when we did the Cipher Hunt, I was running out of rewards and treasures to give the audience because I'd already bled Gravity Falls dry of every drop of content that was inside it..."

See, this is what I find fascinating about Proper Creators, and this one in particular. Their creations can seem so much fuller to us than they do to them. This baffles me, because even when I don't do things on purpose, I generally do realize that I did them sometime, you know? (Edit: ha, Hirsch actually talks a bit about this at the end)

"I remember asking him, 'Hey, Mike, you read the bible, right? What do you think about this Jesús character? Do you think it's working? Do you think people will get it?'"

Even though I clearly read the words 'series bible' right above this, my first thought was that Alex was asking Mike if he'd read The Bible - y'know, the religious one. And I was so confused. And then I stopped being confused and I facepalmed in real life.

"Instead of embracing that this is part of lore that fans love...in his mind, he, as a serious videogame programmer, made a mistake, and is ashamed of the mistake, and doesn't want to acknowledge it, doesn't want to encourage other people to corrupt their own game, and so he said 'there's no such thing as MissingNo.'"

This is another "I just don't get Proper Creators" moment. I'd have embraced it so thoroughly I'd have written a sequel just about it and only revealed that it was actually serendipitous (not 'a mistake' - word choice, people!) years later!

Sometimes no answer is better than a boring answer.

This is why I love that thing Robert Jordan used to say - "read and find out!" and the fandom shortened it to "RAFO," and now that's a one-word response to questions you don't want to answer, at least if everyone in the room is familiar with The Wheel of Time books and fandom history...so many times I've wanted to just reply "RAFO!" in a review, but then realized the odds were excellent that the other person would have no clue what I was talking about.

"I know that we did cut like 12 pages from the journal, just due to length."

I've been told that I can make people feel cussed out without ever uttering a single swearword, when I'm annoyed enough with them. I would like to try to do that to whoever it was who decided on this length restriction. Give me lore! All the lore! More! More lore!

[On the walls of genre cards and character beat cards and how this led to rejected episode ideas]

I'm gonna try this writing method out, it sounds interesting. Thanks, Alex! And also thanks to everyone involved who's mentioned any of these rejected ideas over the years, as this allows us to play with them instead! (one day, y'all will know the tale of Wendy as a weather witch. I've got a whole arc planned for her with that one).

"When [Rob Renzetti] and I are together, we're very much like Grunkle Stan and Ford, and he is Ford and I am Stan."

I wish so much that someone had asked if there were ever any RL fistfights during the production of the book. It's barely even funny and would have wasted time, but I wish they had anyway.

"I still recall when Ford had a long beard and was a hippie."

...No.

"We were thinking it'd be kind of more like a zen kind of guy"

I mean, technically I suppose he still is. Apparently quite big on meditation back in the day, and the Journal strongly implies he's a firm believer in divination now. He could have been a sort of hippie lite, had he gone for drugs other than brain demons and/or Truck Stop Coffee I Initially Assumed Was A Euphemism For Significantly Stronger Stimulants.

"I remember talking about, maybe, J.K. Simmons and then thinking, 'Gosh, you know, he's got a very familiar voice, is he gonna feel too overexposed.'"

Ford was actually the first character I ever heard Simmons voice, because I have acquired what passes for my pop culture literacy mostly completely backward. My mother was watching reruns of whatever that cop drama he was on was (was it The Closer?) one day, though, and I did a double take at the TV because why is Ford here on one of Mama’s shows? Did he get arrested again or something? Why are they acting like he's one of the...ohhhh.

Which yes, means I found my way to Portal 2 via Gravity Falls instead of the other way around. That isn't so surprising, though, because video games are another of my...things. I absolutely love a lot of the stories and will happily read about them and watch cutscenes and video essays about them and player-keeps-quiet playthroughs all day, but I've never actually played video games because I have poor hand-eye coordination and rather low frustration tolerance when it comes to entertainment. The puzzles would drive me mad. I adore complex things, but I hate having to figure them out before I can move on with the story if I don't want to stop. Let me figure stuff out at my own pace, dangit -

Er, that got off-topic, sorry. The point was, I've watched a ton of clips of Portal 2 now, and it's kind of fascinating to me that it possibly wasn't a conscious influence, because Cave Johnson is...not really that dissimilar to a thing that Ford could have become, in a lot of ways. Or what he and/or Fiddleford might have actually become in the "Better World," for all we know. He's probably closer to what Fiddleford did become in canon, though, at least for a while/in my possibly somewhat weird interpretation of Fiddleford.

"So we're putting this character together, we're putting blocks together, we're moving blocks and putting them up, and it's only at the last second that a Ford is revealed that we're like 'I guess we did it?'"

This is how I construct plots basically, more than characters, but - oh, gosh, I wanna do a lore dump so bad but this isn't the time or place. Never mind, I'll ramble about character development another time.

Also, I am amused by the visual of, like, Stan or someone performing a dramatic flourish and being like "Behold: A Ford!"

"What to you comes across as 'oh, Rob understands Ford's ridiculous recklessness' to me comes across as 'Rob IS Ford and Ford does rationalize.' That's what he does. One of Ford's greatest powers is rationalizing. So you're seeing Rob as Ford rationalizing Ford's bad decisions. In that moment, I think what's being revealed is less Ford's recklessness, and more Ford's ability to justify anything."

Why not both? But yeah, fair, I've observed this about the character myself. He censors himself when he doubts. It's a defensive mechanism I think - it keeps him alive and functional to a degree, because, well...we've seen what happens when Ford admits he was wrong, twice. In the Journal, he nearly lost his mind, and in the finale, he basically went from thinking of himself as He Who Shall Save The World to He Who Is About To, However Reluctantly, Become Death, The Destroyer of Worlds in an alarmingly short period of time. Extreme black and white thinking with him a lot of the time. Not a psychologist, just a nerd, but the longer I think about the character, the more probable a personality disorder seems. Which is one reason I worry about him and Stan both after the series ends. They're both going to be confused as all get-out when it dawns on them that "...wait, we're not suddenly better after all? We're both still really, really screwed up?"

"When you do a clone story, the point of a clone story, in my mind, is a character seeing themselves in a different light, right?"

Depends on which side you're looking at it from, really ;)

"They're all wonderful, wonderful dumbasses, all of them."

Accurate.

"They know that I am a detail-oriented bastard."

...Less accurate, in a way. I've spun whole worlds out of details that the writers have admitted were unintentional or screwups, not to mention the later discourse on Alex as the "emotional" story one while Rob was the "make it a story" guy, or the specific detail that was actually under discussion here. As for that one....

"When you're editing, when you're writing, and then you reread your writing and you edit it, and then you reread your writing and you edit it, there's a very subconscious process of streamlining, literally making paragraphs look nice - it's entirely possible that me or Rob made that change out of one in a million changes specifically because we knew that psychologically Ford is not traveling this path alone, he's traveling it with his muse who he has a very complex and fucked-up relationship with, and even in Ford's private thoughts, he would not say 'I'm alone,' he would say, 'Oh, I have a very important relationship in my life with Bill, but I don't have a friend, that is a difference!'"

...except he canonically referred to Bill as his friend, too, so, uh...yeah, there's that.*

Interesting to hear someone else's perspective on rewriting and editing; I'm pretty sure that there's very little sub-conscious going on with me when I'm editing. If anything, I'm double and triple checking to excise anything that even hints of subconsciousness out of the manuscript, and I am very, very conscious of times when I go out of my way to make paragraphs physically neat and pretty, because I always feel really stupid about doing it. So I suppose I'm glad to hear other people do that, too.

I also found it interesting to see the description of the relationship with Bill as "very complex and fucked-up." Ford, at least, wrote and spoke as though he was under the impression that his relationship with Bill was very straightforward pre-betrayal, but here's the Guy, on the record saying it was in fact "very complex." This doesn't confirm that Ford was on some level aware of this, but it does make me feel more confident about my theory that Ford invited Fiddleford up not so much because he really needed the technical expertise as because his subconscious was throwing up enough red flags to cover every square inch of land in the U.S.S.R. and he just couldn't admit it to himself consciously because admitting that he is not in control of a situation tends to render him non-functional.

*Full disclosure since nobody's read this far anyway, but hi if you have, have a full disclosure: I would not say I ship it, because in context - Fiddleford married, Ford on the brink of sanity, Ford as Fiddleford's employer, Fiddleford mind-wiping both himself and Ford behind Ford's back after a certain point, and that's all before we consider that on occasion, it's entirely possible Fiddleford was interacting with someone who mostly looked like Ford but, uh, wasn't - it would be incredibly dark and messed up and suitable for nothing but a full-blown adult psychological horror story, but I do consider "Ford was in love with Fiddleford, regardless of whether it was reciprocated or not" as a perfectly valid reading of the Journal. I also consider it perfectly valid to read it as Ford just being prone to really intense attachments, regardless of what kind they are - he either adores you or he hates you, whether you're his brother, his muse, his friend, his romantic or sexual interest, or what-have-you, which is kind of what I was saying earlier about the potential for personality disorders there. Ford writes in a style more like he's from the mid-nineteenth century than from the mid-twentieth, or at least like he's trying to imitate that style, so that could make things sound gay that aren't gay, but by the same token, much of Ford's rhetorical style seems to exist to allow him to not-quite-lie to himself while using his superpower of Justify Anything, so ultimately that means nothing, too. I went through the Journal line by line once and determined that you could make roughly equally strong cases for Ford being some form of straight, some form of gay, some form of bi, and some form of ace, and that it also wouldn't be unreasonable to come away with the view that he's not into humans so much but might very well be into one or more types of alien. I don't know and so will potentially read any variant of these things, as long as it's a decent story.

"You know the thing about working with a big company, it's like working with a friend who swaps their head with a different head every couple of years."

Huh, Alex has met Olm, has he?

[Hana] "By the way, I know there's a lot of fake blood on this page, that's for one of my YouTube videos, ignore that."

Why is this the moment I laughed out loud?

"That's the trouble of a puzzle box, is it's like, there's two flavors of it, there's a question with a satisfying answer, and then there's a question that is sort of an open-ended invitation to a kind of, uh, you know, group improvisational session. We've created a prompt for fans to 'yes and' their own story out of it, and the sense that there might be something in there creates a sense of excitement along with it."

Pretty sure this is sums up my general thoughts on the Interview/is the part of it I regard as Important so far. Also, I wish I could write something like that. If I leave a loose end hanging, it's very blatantly a loose end. I can improvise a 10,000-word essay about Ford's anger issues on the fly, doing that out of someone else's work is incredibly easy and natural for me, but I can't do the same in my own work. It's a frustrating thing.

"The Mystery Shack is a bucket full of misshapen, lost, odd oddities, and these character are a bucket of full of misshapen lost odd oddities, and like the idea of them all having a place where they fit in, and - and loving each other as a family, was very important to me."

...Ok, this is another Important bit, but for completely different reasons. Basically sums up why I'm here, really.

"That means that Dipper and Mabel's parents may have had children at a concerningly young age, and is this show's intent to say that it's okay for those relationships to exist?"

Here's a thing that I think is just...me not quite getting how a lot of people work, I guess? To me, there's a world of difference between "that could be what happened" and "and that means I approve of it." The Pineses are a really screwed up family. They should have called that pawn shop Dysfunction Junction, that’s how messed up they are. Apparently it was Filbrick who knocked someone up at a drive-in movie once (one of my 4.5 Shermies is actually a much older half-brother who only gets to know Stan at all after they meet at Filbrick's funeral, though I never decided if his mom was the shotgun wedding or if that was with Caryn. Either way, though, he was vaguely aware that "yeah, Dad and his second wife had those twins" but he'd had very limited contact with them and bought that he'd mixed up which one was supposed to be weird and have six fingers without too much trouble), and Mabel's level of proto-sexual aggressiveness is...occasionally disconcerting, to me at least. One or more generations of teenage parenthood seems perfectly in character for them to me, without it meaning anyone approves or disapproves of that. It's fairly realistic, however depressing, that a much younger son in a family as dysfunctional as theirs might well have started acting out, resulting in Indiscretions - my second fic was based on the premise that the "you gotta raise a kid, your life falls apart..." was Stan talking about Shermie's lot in life rather than his own, as I hadn't yet heard the remark about it being a Filbrick quote (the whole events of that story were constructed with the idea of keeping Stan's line about how he lied to everyone, including "my family" and "your parents", literally true, so every event was created to explain how Stan got away with it for a little longer without anyone noticing, basically). Mabel also seems impractical enough, even post-character development, to get waaaaaay too into a high school relationship with unfortunate results. That's not approval of such relationships, that's just...reality? Goodness, people don't think I morally approve of everything (or even very much at all) in my stories, do they? That's an unsettling thought.

"I think we say 'damn.' I think we say 'hell' maybe, um, yeah."

Ford specifically says "I'll be damned" in the Journal (though, in context, it seems less like swearing than like he possibly means it some form of literally; there's several hints in the Journal that suggest Ford believes in...Something, though he's almost certainly not a member of any organized religion and almost definitely not a member of any organized religion we'd recognize). Stan, for his part, says "hell" in "Lost Legends," referring to a part of the carnival that he thinks would be a good hiding place.

Since Disney allowed people to refer to going to literal, capital-H Hell in at least two properties long preceding Gravity Falls, though (specifically, David Xanatos infamously says "pay a man enough and he'll walk barefoot into Hell" in the pilot of the animated show Gargoyles, and Claude Frollo sings a whole song where he repeatedly yells the words "Hell" and "Hellfire" without a care in the world in The Hunchback of Notre Dame), I am still more shocked that they let Ford say the word "suicide" on the show proper, on Disney channel. And...okay, Frollo is significantly less child-friendly than Bill, even given the torture scene. Frollo does things that are just as violent as that scene, plus Frollo is quite blatantly driven by a perverse sexual obsession with a woman, so that he attempts to coerce her into sex with everything but the word 'sex' on screen before setting her on fire. There's distinctly perverse undertones in Bill's every interaction with Ford in the Weirdmageddon Trilogy, but Bill's been an energy being without physical form since before the birth of the Milky Way, which takes the edge off...a bit, anyway. Bill in the Journal flings down and dances upon the line between "this is a metaphor" and "...okay, so, the way this is being written about is so on the nose that I'm not sure this counts as a metaphor for any practical purposes anymore," but Bill having "extract information" as a motive in the most blatantly unsettling scenes of the show proper means he's still less overt about it on screen than Frollo.

...What was I talking about, again? Oh, right. Disney Channel: A lot less squeaky-clean in general than it wants you to think, Parents! They've been letting animated people say "Hell" occasionally since I was four!

"We talked about 'is there a way for this government agent who knows about Trembley to be connected to the government agents who picked up this disturbance?' We weren't really able to find a way to make them connect in a satisfying way, so, I wish we had done more with it."

Welp, there's another one for the "Projects to Eventually Do" List. Y'know, I'd never even thought of associating Powers and Co with the guy in "National Treasure"? It's one of those episodes I kinda mostly forget about tbh, the S1 filler episodes - I remember facts from it because they're useful when constructing my "Nathaniel Northwest was a warlock who made deals with Bill and here's how that could play out" theories, but I never think about the plot. Kind of like how I forget that Dipper's infatuation with Wendy is why the Paper Twins exist, even though they're now major characters in a lot of what I've written and are even bigger players in the vast majority of what I plan to write in future....I can tell you way, way too much about "Double Dipper," but I'm always slightly surprised that "oh, the Wendy obsession is why all this other stuff even happened!"

[On a very long section of text about McGucket and the memory gun]

OMG OMG OMG I WAS RIGHT! I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE ALCOHOLISM METAPHOR, IT'S CANON, I FEEL SO SMART RIGHT NOW, WHEEE!

Ahem...sorry about that. Got a bit carried away there. So, Alex also compared McGucket's relationship with the memory gun to alcoholism. And to taking anxiety pills, but...well, there is a reason you don't mix those, I suppose. I want to dig into this so much more, and I'm probably gonna end up printing this section and tacking it to the wall next to my writing table, but right now I have gotta do my mother's taxes, she refused to admit they hadn't been done yet until a few hours ago, arrgh, I don't have time - yeah, that bit's probably gonna get its own analysis post eventually.

"It's like he has to always have a mission in front of him, because if he doesn't have a mission in front of him, he's thinking 'how have I treated the people in my life?'"

Hey, I think I said that...like...three times in this insanely long post, and I know I've said it before. My character interpretations are being validated. It makes me faintly grumpy that I'm as pleased by this as I am. I have a...complicated relationship with validation, let's leave it at that.

"The same way you know a black hole is there by the light warped around it, it's like, you know the damage someone's family has done to them by all of their weird tics and behaviors. So who is the character who would result in Stan being this hurt and needy and mad and also longing?"

I'd argue that it was the whole family dynamic, really - Stan clearly had a ton of daddy issues on the boil even before he got disowned, and while Caryn seems to have been more openly affectionate toward him, I can't imagine it did his psychology any good to grow up with a mother he calls a "pathological liar" without missing a beat. There'd always be that uncertainty (much like there later is with Stan himself) about what was real and what was a lie, what was a performance, because Caryn, like Stan, was an entertainer - it's the thing they were good at. Meanwhile, Filbrick is a fifties and sixties father of the most rigid sort, someone who is clearly uncomfortable expressing any positive emotion of any kind, or really anything except anger. He's either indifferent or he's shouting, and he apparently calls his sons by the same name to the point that they can say "he means you" when he's bellowing for "Stan Pines," because Stan's unimportance in life has been so thoroughly underlined for him by his parents, long before Ford personally was in any position to inflict much childhood trauma, that he struggles to have any form of identity separate from "Ford's twin" by a very young age, and never really grows past this until maybe the final moments of the show - I really wish we'd had a moment of Stan claiming his own name properly, but at least it made the news. Until that point, he'd literally failed at everything he ever did as Stanley, as himself, because he had no direction without Ford - even the Mystery Shack, as built around his specific talents as it is, was created because the mission in front of him had Ford as a focus point. That's a crucial thing, too, about his bond with Dipper and Mabel, and Soos, and even kinda Wendy - he's built a life for himself outside of just being Ford's brother. It's implied none of them even knew he was a twin, that the Other had ever existed. He still defines himself in relation to other people to a large extent, but that's still less restrictive than defining himself (and being defined by others) solely in terms of one other person. Fairer to Ford, too. But I digress.

"And it's like 'oh! I think he's also aloof and distant from himself.' I think he is, uh, deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships."

Accurate, at least at times.

"The shows I was watching growing up were, like, Doug and Rugrats, and there were no holy wars about whether Chucky Finster, uh, should be interpreted this way or that way. We had no idea the world that was coming into consciousness as we were making this thing."

I found this kinda interesting, because I remember those shows, too - but by the time I was old enough to be aware of very much, Harry Potter and Buffy the Vampire Slayer had already created the core of modern fandom culture as we know it, so I at the same time have the concepts of "there is no Rugrats fandom" and "that did not make fandom a surprise to me, because it was falling into place right about the point where my memory starts/I became dimly aware of the world outside of [Microscopically small town I'm from]." I don't know if this is something where he maybe remembers early childhood more than I do, since I have very, very few distinct memories from before I was 10-11 - a few, but they're like isolated snapshots with limited context, except what I know happened because people have told me it happened. I know Hirsch is older than me, but also not *that* much older than me, so I wonder if it's down to those few years (like he said about how gay marriage had just been legalized as the show was wrapping, and it's disconcerting now to think how different so many things were back then) or if it's a difference in personalities or what.

Well! That was more enjoyable than I expected! Thanks for prodding me to finally read this thing, @the-orion-scribe. It's eaten much of my day and seems set to eat a fair bit of it tomorrow, too, since I had to cut myself short at a couple of interesting points, but it was fun.

#gravity falls #gravity falls characters #gravity falls fandom #commentary #my commentary

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