#idk i just think that this hack is going to be so far reaching | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pandorasfavorite · 6 months

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Saw your post abt being idealess and I am trying to brainstorm for you lol

Okay so first thought, hear me out, a bratty sub dominik x reader (smut ofc) or one where he finds out how much the reader likes him speaking Spanish

Or a story where dom and reader are childhood friends and decide to 🍃 together and one of the confesses (fluff)

I've got a few more ideas but idk if you like these so far or not lol

Love you 💕💕💕

Resuscitate

AN: I love you. I hope you don't mind but I'm going to try and use this opportunity to explore Dominik's point of view. (Please don't kill me, I swear if it is not popular I will never do this again). I just whipped this up yo....kinda impressing myself

Dominik's expectations for tonight were much different than yours. He always felt so drawn to you, and that feeling only grew as you both grew up together. Of course, as children Dominik wasn't in love with you; he didn't even really know what that was. But when he started to understand the concept, it took a short time to find out that's exactly how he felt about you.

For the past few years, Dominik felt absolute calm with you, anytime you made a presence he felt contained, relaxed, and most of all trapped. Trapped by your essence, trapped by the look in your eyes, trapped by the wit in your voice, and his favorite trapped by the way you yelled his name each time you saw him.

"DOMINIK!", you screech and sprint into his arms; acting as if you hadn't seen him in years. Dominik would be taken aback by your excitement to see him, eachtime it happened. And his heart would regularly race, so much so that he once had to step away and remind himself that he was not dying. You gave him a grin and pulled him along with you everywhere you went. Dominik had no complaints when it came to following you, he'd go to the ends of the earth if it meant being by your side.

Now that you both are 25 with too much time on your hands, you took it as your personal responsibility to be the red devil on Dominik's shoulder. He sat with you on the dingy couch you had for years now in the center of your small living room. He felt so comfortable in the familiar area, but sitting next to you with his leg pressed to yours was all he could think about. The moment you both sat down, your mischievous grin rose up and you reached into a drawer and pulled out a tin.

Dominik looked at you with suspicion, but he felt settled being beside you, as you felt being beside him. "What you up to Hermosa?", Dominik asked and moved his head into your space to look at your moving hands. He had been calling you Hermosa from the ripe age of 13, he heard it from his dad at first, and it seemed to apply to you perfectly. You open the tin and pull out the preroll, "Dom it's time", you say like it has been a weight on your chest. "Corazón...", he seems unsure. Dominik has never done this before, and he is 100% positive you have never done it either. He was less worried about the action and more worried about how it would make him act around you.

However, you looked at Dominik with pleading eyes; and without any words, you scathed by and convinced Dominik to smoke with you. "Ok", he drops his protective act and reaches for the lighter also in the tin. If he was going to do this, he would be the first to try it, to warn you, also it seemed more polite to light it for you. If Dominik is anything it is polite. He puts the preroll in his mouth and spares you a quick glance, you smile so cute that he is less nervous to do it. He lights up and takes a deep inhale; a really deep inhale. The smoke hits the back of his throat and the mild burn makes him cough it up.

You smack a hand over your mouth, stifling your laughs as Dominik hacks up a lung. After the initial pain of a gut-wrenching cough, the weed hits instantly. Considering he hasn't done it before it was easy for him to get high. The preroll is dangling from his fingers and you look at him with expectation. He jumps in realization and brings the preroll to your lips for you. You inhale much gentler than Dominik, but the thick smoke hits you just the same. Luckily for you, the coughing fit wasn't nearly as bad as Dominiks.

After another few less apprehensive hits, the high really set in. Dominik's eyes went low and glossy with a light hue of red. His goofy smile instantly graced his features and he turned his head to look at you quickly, though in his point of view, it was like slow motion. When Dominik looked at you his breathing came to a stuttering halt, he felt good; but you looked good. Truly perfect and the low eyes and that pretty smile would've brought him to his knees (if he wasn't on the couch). "How do you feel?", you say and somehow manage to lean closer to him as you speak.

Your words knock Dominik out of a haze and he has to inhale a breath before being able to talk to you. He breathes; his eyes staring into yours without care, he looks you over and answers, "I feel as good as you look". His eyes widen as soon as the words slip from his lips, he is about to speak but your giggle cuts him off. Your cheeks are a light tiny of pink and you put a hand on him as you laugh. If you were to look up 'What does a man in love look like?', a picture of Dominik staring at you with his lips parted in astonishment would pop up.

You sit up and your eyes go comically wide, "I want to do something" you declare and you somehow peel yourself from the couch. Of course Dominik got up just as you had. You both stand and look at each other without a clue of what to do and then you mutter a intrusive thought. "Hm?", Dominik asks you to repeat yourself in a small hum. You look up with those big glossy eyes, and his heart rate seems to beat back to life, "Give me a piggyback ride". Didn't have to tell him twice. He crouches down, "Get on then Hermosa".

You climb on his back and you lay your cheek on his shoulder when he stands up completely. "I like when you call me that", you mumbled against his shoulder, your arms barely hanging onto him. Yet you trust Dominik enough to know he would never let you fall. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much and so largely. He swallows and his mouth has gone dry; sure it was probably from the weed; but in his hazy state Dominik was convinced you have begun to affect him more physically than he anticipated. He walked into the kitchen with you slung on his back and his hands under your thighs keep you on him completely. He whispers that he is going to sit you down on the counter. Afterward, he pours a glass of water for you both to share, handing you the cup to get the first drink.

You moan in contempt as the cool liquid slides down your throat and you feel much better now that your mouth also isn't dry. Dominik eyes shoot to your lips at the sound that came from them. But he shook the thoughts from his head; he will not be that guy. You pull Dominik to you by the collar of his shirt (he curses under his breath at the proximity). "I really want some fucking chocolate", you say with wide eyes that are utmost serious. Dominik's eyebrows pull together in seriousness and he raids the cabinets for you. He finds a candy bar in the bottom cabinets and he pops up when he finds it; he smacks his head "ow". He says under his breath.

You jump off the counter and move to crouch down beside of him, your lips plant on his head before he can anticipate it. "There. Feel better?", you ask and snatch the candy bar from him. Dominik's mouth went dry again; this time, he thought he'd fall from the tingles that shot through his body. He nodded and his glazed-over eyes blinked at you twice. He watches you break off pieces of chocolate, he has the intense urge to pull you into his arms and kiss the chocolate off your lips. He thought, "god I'm in love".

Your head whips to him but Dominik doesn't acknowledge it as he slips a piece of chocolate into his mouth, "This is really good". He talked around the chocolate and then he finally looked up to your surprised look. He looked at you, just nearly as confused.

"Wait what?", you put the chocolate down.

"This chocolate is really good", he says again; rubbing the back of his neck.

"No Dominik what did you say before that- you said that you were..you know". His eyes fly the fuck open and his heart has surely fallen to the pit of his stomach. "What did I say?!", this was his worst fear. You waste no time repeating the words that were now inked into your mind, "You said, god, I'm in love". If his heart was in the pit of his stomach, his lungs were probably in the same spot. His breathing stops and his mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water. Now that you are looking at him, telling you the truth seems so much harder. The way you were staring at him, with a heartbroken look; he couldn't take it. "I'm sorry Corazón, I should've told you sooner", his glazed-over eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips without the intention. "Me?", you asked in utter surprise, he liked you back, after so many years, he was just in love with you as you were with him.

"Who else?", a breathless laugh escaped from my mouth. You gasp at the complete confession, you fall into him heavily; wrapping your arms around him and holding Dominik tight. "Me too", you say into his chest, Dominik heard it and he felt as if he was floating. He pushes you back to see your face but you stay close, "You too?", he asked just to confirm. You nod and tears begin to well in your eyes at the finality and long-awaited desire coming to life. He smiles and breaks into a quick laugh at his luck, he tilts your body down and gives you a long kiss, pulling back to attach to your lips again; over and over again until his lungs recicitate and until his heart gives out.

#dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x you #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik my bbg #wwe #dominik #dominik mysterious #dominik is such a good husband

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spectrerie · 2 years

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Ok I have no idea if your requests are on or not because I literally never request but I love your writing so here I am! Anyways I can’t stop thinking about ghost x hacker reader who works with 141 and they have to go with the guys on a mission to like hack through security systems or something (idk) but ghost absolutely refuses to let them go like he is so against it. And maybe while they’re on the mission the reader gets hurt or something idrk I haven’t thought that far ahead but I thought you would do so good with this idea!!! Thank you!!

Hello!!!!!!! This request is so good! I got a bit carried away and wrote 3.5k words on it lmaoo, but I'm happy with it now, so I'll post it as an answer to this ask

If you die, I swear I'll kill you.

Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Please enjoy this anon, and anyone else who reads it.

TW: injury, slight workplace bullying, enemies(?) to friends

“With all due respect, sir, no. I don’t need to babysit some egg-head while I’m in the field.” Ghost sat with his arms crossed, knees apart, filling his chair and the room with his presence.

You glanced at Price, you’d both expected this reaction, but it still hurt to hear him say it so easily. For nearly two years you’d put your best foot forward. Did everything to get him to like you until it became clear that he never would. You were ready to settle for respect, for a crumb of acknowledgement. Though soon that too was clearly out of your reach. Now you were just happy to keep out of his way. You weren’t part of the 141, no matter how much information you’d stolen for them, no matter how much data you mined for them, no matter how many sleepless nights you’d given them. You weren’t a soldier. Ghost made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got.

At every debrief he treated you like you were just a piece of the furniture. He ignored you with ease, asking questions to everyone but you. Making plans and strategising with everyone’s strengths in mind but yours. Any information he needed about what you could do he’d obtained through Captain Price. Often with you in the same room, going over your head like you were some machinery he’d be crazy to speak to.

You typed and looked through files. You were a glorified intern as far as he was concerned.

“Well Lieutenant, it’s not up to you, is it? Owl is going with you, and that’s final.”

A part of you cringed at the nickname despite the joy it normally filled you with. You’d felt honoured when Soap had coined it. The night owl of the 141, playing with mice and bringing veritable feasts of information back to the nest. But hearing it used in front of Ghost felt wrong. You could feel his eyes roll without even looking at him.

You didn’t need a call sign.

You didn’t need to be closer to the 141.

You didn’t even need a name, because they didn’t need you.

“Yes, sir.” He said as he stood to attention, mumbling his acknowledgement to the Captain as he prepared for his dismissal.

“Final brief at 0400. Wheels up at 0500, understood?” Price barked out at the two of you. You both gave your acknowledgement and he nodded, satisfied for now.

“Alright, dismissed.”

Ghost made a quick exit, as though being in your presence was more than enough to make him ill. You sighed and began to move, but a hand at your shoulder stopped you.

“Owl, don’t let him get to you. You’re a part of this team, and you’re needed on this mission. I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t believe you needed to be there.”

You nodded, dropping you head to pull back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t. Your intel has always been good. We don’t have the time to wait for the boys to bring the drives back, if they even knew what to look for, time isn’t on our side.”

You knew that better than anyone. If only Lieutenant Riley would admit that you weren’t an incompetent civilian, maybe things would go along quicker.

— — —

“Alright boys, this one should be simple, yeah? We go in, subdue any hostiles, grab the tech and get the fuck out. I don’t want any mistakes, I don’t want any problems,” Ghost’s eyes stopped at you as he said the last word, “I don’t want any bad news, understood?” He said as his voice boomed over the sound of the plane's engine.

“Yes sir!” The group called out as one. This would be easy, as he said. You didn’t have to do too much, just follow the group and live long enough to break through the encrypted drives. From their you could relay the information back to Price and Laswell. Simple.

Your eyes drew closed as you took in a breath, trying to centre yourself. Get in, get the drives, get out. Job done. You repeated your mantra until you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke with a start as your name was barked out.

Lieutenant Riley stood over you, arms crossed. An obvious scowl beneath his mask.

“Gotten enough beauty sleep, sunshine?”

The plane was empty, your teammates stood out on the makeshift runway, watching your change out of earshot. The late evening sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows into the plane.

“I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be rested for the mission.”

“Well, aren’t you considerate, thank you so much, Pigeon.” His voice dripped with a saccharine sarcasm that cut you to your core. You hate that he’d made a mockery of the callsign you were so fond of. You were sure other people had slept on the flight over. Why was he singling you out so cruelly?

“Are you still on your bloody arse?” He barked out, loud enough too draw the attention of your teammates. “Sorry, sir!” you replied as you jumped up. Your body was yanked back with a start, bucking against the fastening that had kept you in your seat. Your head knocked back against the body of the plane, tilting your helmet over your eyes.

“Oh fucking hell, Pigeon. If you get yourself killed on this bloody mission, I’ll murder you.” His hand made quick work of your seatbelt, snatching it off you in one sharp motion, sending you lurching forward.

If only you’d had the confidence to tell him off.

If only you had the kind of easy relationship with him that he had with everyone else, one that transcended rank enough to quip back at him.

If only he didn’t hate you.

If only he could see you. Not just look at you scornfully, but see you. See your efforts, see your strength.

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” You said with your eyes focused on the floor. Your gaze could have cut two pinholes in the undercarriage of the plane. You grabbed your gear and rushed down the gangway, thankful Ghost hadn’t pointed out all the things he found wrong with your apology. With your posture, with your face, with your breathing, with your existence.

“Alright. It’s 30 klicks to their base, but we’ll have to trek the last 5k. Johnny, you get us in, Gaz and I will clear a path while you watch our six. You,” Lieutenant Riley said with derision, “don’t die and find the drives after we’ve swept the place, understood?” You nodded sharply.

“Alright lads, this one’s easy. Any hostiles will be eliminated on sight, in and out, home in time for Eastenders.” Soap and Gaz laughed easily at Simon’s joke. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to show any crumb of happiness in front of him. Maybe he’d yank your tongue out if you so much as chuckled and bring it home for his dog.

As you made your way to the jeep Soap fell into step with you.

“Ye alright?” He asked, a gentle smile playing on his face. How could you be alright? He was always so kind to you, and Kyle always treated you with respect. Even the KorTac boys said ‘hello’, or ‘thanks for the intel’ once in a while whenever you ran into them. Ghost seemed pissed that he had to breathe the same air as you.

A short sigh escaped before you could regain your composure, “yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s my first time really out in the field and—” and Lieutenant Riley, your best friend and our commanding officer hates my guts and doesn’t care to hide it. “And I just want to do well.” Soap nodded, though he couldn’t really understand. He’d been a soldier since he was 18. He’d proven himself time and time again even before he ever saw active duty. His abilities were undeniable.

You, as Ghost loved to remind you and everyone around you, were a desk jockey egg-head recruited after you’d been caught ransoming credit card companies and running stings on pedophiles with your ‘internet pals’. Caught or betrayed, the thought still plagued you, though the end result had been a job offer from the British Army in lieu of prison time. Soap and Gaz thought you were a genius, some sort of cyber Robin Hood fighting the good fight from smokey internet cafes or 6 monitor supercomputers. Captain Price saw you as a clever kid with good intentions but questionable methods.

Ghost… well Ghost made no secret of the fact he thought you were an egg-head. An energy drink guzzling college drop-out with a lot of free time and no common sense. A basement dweller with more waifu body pillows than real life friends. A useless kid with no place in battle, regardless of the fact that your intel was what told him where to go more times than not.

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just… well he’s just Ghost. He’s never worked with you, I’m sure things will change after this.” You nodded, thankful for the reassurance though you didn’t really buy much of it. As you opened the jeep door and slid into one of the back seats you noticed Ghost’s eyes were trained on you through the rearview mirror. Watching for something to pick on you for, of course.

You held his gaze as you closed the door and dropped your gear bag between your feet. ‘That’s right Lt, I can sit down without strangling myself on the seatbelt’ you longed to say to him. You settled for holding his gaze and raising your eyebrows at him. As the jeep rumbled to life you could have sworn you heard a laugh.

— — —

Ghost glanced at the pistol holstered on you thigh, as well as the knife sheathed at your hip. The urge to ramble about your right to protect yourself and defend your teammates bubbled up in your chest, the citric need to bite back at him almost won. Thankfully he spoke before you did.

“You do know how to use that, right?” He whispered to you, crouched to your right, Gaz to your left. You’d gone through basic gun training and safety as well as first aid at Captain Price’s insistence once you’d begun working more and more with the 141. A fact you were sure Ghost knew. He’d never let you carry a weapon without a direct order from Price. A direct order not to snatch it on sight and send you to sit in a corner and think about how stupid you were.

“Of course, sir,” you quipped back. Your sarcasm was cut with anxiety. This was real. You didn’t have to kill anyone, you just had to keep up and not die. But this was so real. A gun range was nothing in comparison. The slide of the gravel beneath your boots, the heat of your comrades beside you, the dull green of the night vision. This was real.

“Ghost, do you copy? 30 seconds to detonation.” Soap’s voice was tinny through the comm on Ghost’s shoulder.

30 seconds?

Seconds?!

Your heart pumped a punishing beat as the reality of it all sunk deeper and deeper.

A hand on your knee brought you back to the moment. “Look at me,” the last voice you’d ever expect to comfort you was all that filled your ears. The surprise washed away the fear for a moment as you looked into Ghost’s eyes.

“The second you hear the blast, stay low and follow us, okay? You’ll want to jump up, don’t.”

“Okay.”

His dark eyes stared into you as he spoke. “Keep your weapon in your hands, keep your eyes on me, keep up, and keep calm. This is the fun part.” A low chuckled from Gaz calmed you further.

“I’ve got your six, just focus on moving with the group, okay?” Gaz whispered beside you.

“Okay.”

All you could do was agree, any eloquence you’d had before had long since dissipated.

A deafening boom rang out and the urge to run flooded every nerve in your body. You watched Ghost.

Keep your eyes on me

You focused on Ghost’s broad back as you moved with him. Focused on keeping close. On surviving.

The next minutes were a blur of gun fire and barked out commands. The muzzle flash of the weapons around you was enough to make the night vision useless and so with shaky hands and shallow breaths you pushed the goggles up as you moved through a maze of rooms with Ghost as your guide.

A heavy hand against your chest stopped you before you had a chance to run into your Lieutenant.

“Gaz, now.” He barked quickly as a heavy boot made contact with the door, pushing it from the frame. Garrick fired as he moved deftly into the room, sweeping the corner as Ghost fired at a figure hunched over a laptop.

Everything was happening too quickly. You were pushed into the room, or pulled, you couldn’t know. As your body entered your mind stayed back and watched as a figure rose from a position under the desk. Before you could even see their eyes they hit the floor with a thud.

A wave of nausea spread through you as you moved to where they’d been, pushing the bodies away from the computer as you grabbed it and began to type a series of commands into the terminal. Your hands shook as you pushed a thumb-drive into a port and watched as your code froze the deletion process. You left that to work as you pulled open desk drawers and riffled through their contents, shovelling everything in sight into your pack.

“Hurry up!”

You obeyed, moving quicker as you grabbed files and thick plastic drives with greedy, shaking hands. The final drawer was locked tight. You wanted to call out for a key but shame held you tongue. You pulled at it and it held firm. Ghost could have yanked it open with one hand, you were sure. His presence in the room motivated you to think like a soldier. Think like him.

‘I’m not useless. I’m not useless. I’m not useless.’ You chanted to yourself as you reached to you side and gripped your knife. Jamming it into a gap in the drawer you pushed your whole weight onto it and heard a click.

Yes. You weren’t useless after all.

“Owl! Wait!”

With unbridled euphoria you yanked the drawer open and felt your body and mind reconnect with a violent snap. Like a spark to gas you ignited with something you couldn’t recognise. Warmth spread through your middle as you glanced down into the drawer. It was empty.

“Oh shit.”

“Soap call in a medevac, now!”

Why was it empty? Were they all shouting because it was empty?

Your hand dug into the wooden cube, patting around until you felt something give. You pushed up into it and heard something drop. Another hard drive.

“Owl, Owl you need to move, now.”

A firm hand grasped you by the shoulder and you shook it off. You bent down to pick up the drive and a white hot pain seared your abdomen. You ignored it, and with a sharp wince you grabbed the final drive.

Why were your hands shaking so much? Was it the excitement of war?

You turned to collect the laptop but it was already in Gaz’s hands. He was shoving it into your pack as Ghost grabbed the drive in your hand and tossed it to him.

“No! No, I have to decrypt the—”

“You have to move. Now.” Ghost retorted sharply as he angled himself to block your view of Gaz.

When had they stripped you of your pack?

Why was Lieutenant Riley suddenly pushing you out the door you’d all just come through?

How were you able to see your group moving through the halls? Watching the retreat from an unnatural vantage point, making note of the thick trail of something syrupy behind you.

Was that blood? Did your sloppiness get one of them injured?

— — —

The jeep you’d left 5 kilometres away speed into view in front of the compound you’d just sacked.

Was it moving or were you?

Hands pushed you into it and began pulling off the kevlar and fabric of covering your torso.

‘Is it bad?” Soap’s voice came from the front of the vehicle.

“No, its not too bad,” Ghost said to you rather than Soap. You craned your head down to look at the wound, but a strong hand tilted your chin away.

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me, Pigeon” he said lowly as you searched his face for some clue of what was happening. His derisive diminutive sounded odd now, it was laced with something tender.

“Sorry lieutenant, I just wanted to—” you didn’t know how to finish.

I just wanted to see for myself?

I just wanted to be a part of the team?

“— I just wanted to impress you. I’m sorry, sir.” You mumbled as your lids grew heavy.

The pressure on your stomach increased as Ghost spoke to you in low whispers. “Impress me? How? By falling asleep? We’ve already talked about that, soldier. I told you to keep your eyes on me. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

— — —

Your eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of a white stucco ceiling.

Shit.

Ghost would kill you for falling asleep again. As you tried to sit up your body barked out in protest. A dull ache blanketed your left side and pulsed through you.

A hand pushed you back down gently. Resting for a beat on your shoulder before pulling away.

“Slow down, kid. You’ll rip your stitches out.” You knew that voice. You turned your head to look at the Lieutenant. You’d already known it was him, all that surprised you was the lack of contempt in his voice.

You couldn’t speak. You just looked around, taking in the small makeshift clinic you’d found yourself in.

“The hospital was too far,” Ghost said, answering the question you mind was already forming, “so they set this up in a safe house nearby.” You nodded, laying back against the pillows. “Sir? What happened?”

You heard Lieutenant Riley sigh as you stared up at the ceiling above you. Too timid to look at him as he recounted your failures on the mission.

“The drawer was rigged. If you’d been taller, or wider, the shrapnel that hit you would have been fatal, Owl.”

The name drew your eyes to him before you could stop yourself.

“I’ve graduated from Pigeon?” You asked, trying to cut the tension in the small room. He laughed, and the sound was enough to make the pain in your abdomen dissipate.

You’d made him laugh.

You had made Ghost laugh.

“You got injured, and didn’t give up. That was a tough thing you did, Owl. I’m proud of you.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, it took everything you had not to let them fall. A warm on hand your head was what completely undid you. Hot tears slipped out of your closed eyes as Lieutenant Riley stroked your hair more gently than you’d ever thought a man of his size was capable of.

“You did well, don’t worry.”

You gathered yourself, remembering the objective of the mission. “How long was I out, sir? Has the operation window passed?”

He pulled his hand back slowly before he spoke. “Intel over here took a look at some of the materials before sending them back with Soap and Gaz. The boys back home will decrypt as much as they can while you’re healing up here. Doc said you’d be okay to fly within 48 hours.”

You nodded, trying to keep your disappointment in check. You wouldn’t even get a chance to do what you were good at.

“But,” Ghost said slowly, drawing your attention away from the pity party you’d already began throwing for yourself. “No one could make heads or tails of what was on the laptop.”

“So its useless then?” You asked, trying to push the hurt out of your voice.

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Ghost let out a low chuckle. God, you’d become addicted to that sound already. “Whatever you plugged into it before you got hurt completely stumped everyone, they said only you’d be able to retrieve anything from it.”

A warm pride filled your chest. No one could do what you could. You weren’t useless.

“So… unfortunately for you, Pigeon. I’ve brought you some homework while I babysit you. Are you up for it?”

Ghost dropped the laptop onto your lap. Your thumb-drive was still plugged into it, filled with malware and viruses you’d cooked up over the years.

You smiled at him, beaming with pride as you opened the device. “Of course, just keep your eyes on me, sir. I’ll be done in no time.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 #modern warfare ii #modern warfare #ghost #ghost x reader #hacker!reader #mean!ghost #tw toxic relationship #but that changes by the end of the fic #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley requests #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost mw2 imagines

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kelvintimeline · 3 months

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well i care what happens to crowley and aziraphale after the end of season 2 and i don't care about the feelings of those two little radfem bitches so that's a pretty easy choice lmfao

I know this is bait and/or trying to frame GO fans as especially bad (though I have seen this exact sentiment expresesd by GO fans so... idk)

but it should be said:

the victims are not TERFs. we do not know their politics, we do not know much of anything about them besides their age, that they were assaulted, and their general relationship with neil. that's it.

the podcast reached out to these women and they took advantage of the opportunity. scarlett reported her rape in october 2022 and no one listened. k had been living with it for 20 years. they aren't bad people for just wanting to be heard, not when there have been whisper networks about neil for decades. not when he's been glorified in spite of being a missing stair.

you can frame them of being taken advantage of the podcast or colluding with the podcast or whatever you want, that doesn't change what neil has done to them

even the podcast isn't a TERF podcast--it seems to be right wing, there are TERFs on staff, but that doesn't mean it's reporting objectively false information every time. it isn't primarily trans issues or feminism, either. so, you should be aware of framing, fact check when you can, and not use it as a primary source when you can. but bad actors break real news... all of the time. sometimes with an agenda, and sometimes even without one. we have real insight from the victims themselves, in their own voices, on this podcast that really can't be reframed as anything else unless they were literally hacking and cutting audio to form new sentences that the victims never stated.

none of that makes this podcast a good thing but it does mean that this particular series contains primary sources, including proof from gaiman himself, which exists outside of the politics of the people running it.

anyways--

even if the victims were TERFs, that wouldn't make neil less of a rapist

even if they were TERFs, that wouldn't mean they deserved to be raped

neil didn't rape them because they were TERFs (and if he did, that would still be wrong, rape is not a punishment, rape is not judgement, rape is not justice), he raped them because he could and because he wanted them to

so, to not care about these women is to not care that he is a rapist, to not care about other victims (of his but also just in general)

anyways--

TERFs are terrible people. Rapists are also terrible people.

As far as we know, his victims aren't TERFs, but even if they were, that wouldn't mean you should continue to support Neil. Or his art projects and adaptions.

Because... he's still a rapist.

This isn't some pokemon match where we figure out different power levels of "TERF" types and "Rapist" types and see which one is more powerful, where one defeats the other and somehow becomes morally okay.

This is where we think critically about the information we have on hand and then employ basic human empathy. If you are incapable of empathy, learn to fake it. Post haste.

Can't do that? Well, then shut the fuck up. Talk about something else. Be a better person by being less of yourself.

#rape cw #transmisogyny cw #neil gaiman #good omens

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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we��re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

Nurse Din

Relationship: Din Djarin x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff! Summary: You seem to be coming down with a cold so the Mandalorian takes on a new role: a nurse. Based off the prompt: person b pressing their forehead against person a's forehead to check if they have a fever. A/N: this is one of the last fluffy one shots (i have a whole Din series i never posted on here...yet.....along with some smut.........will be posted at some point i promise) I have for my Mandalorian writing and honestly? I miss it. I will be writing for the Mandalorian again because idk it was just a nice time. I liked letting myself explore that world and characters :)

Masterlist

You woke up just feeling… bad. Your muscles were aching, your stomach was doing somersaults, and… oh, Maker, was that a burn in your throat?

"Ugh," you tried to groan at your disheveled state but it came out more like an aggressive cough which certainly did not help your throat.

You squirmed on the cot, taking advantage of the fact you were alone as your husband was already up doing whatever he did. (Okay — you did know his schedule but your uncomfortable state was preventing you from registering anything. You were just thankful you weren’t cramped together with him in this state.)

You were just starting to drift back to sleep as your heavy eyelids finally caved in from staring at nothing when something gave out a little coo next to you. Reluctantly, you peaked over your shoulder and came face-to-face with the small green child you had come to adore — well, he was adorable when he wasn’t waking you up.

"What?" You grumbled, your tired voice coming out rough. You let out another cough which Grogu just cocked his head at.

When you didn’t show signs of getting up, he started babbling again, trying to get your attention.

You forced yourself out of your near-dream state, furrowing your features wondering what in the galaxy he could want — oh. You were supposed to get him breakfast. In your delusional, ill state, you had completely forgotten your responsibilities.

Well, okay, you thought, it was just getting him breakfast, and then you could return to sleep. But even just the motions of sitting up in the cot made you hack up a lung. The child looked at you now fully concerned about what was going on with one of his parents. You tried catching your breath but the mixture of the coughing with the aching muscles and burning throat was taking a toll on you.

It wasn’t long into your coughing-fit that Din caught wind and came to check you. Usually, you were up by now, watching the child. When you weren’t awake and ready yet, he had simply thought Grogu was giving you a hard time. But when the unmistakable sound of coughing rang throughout the ship, Din realized there was much more going on. A mild panic set in as he made his way in to check on you.

"Riduur?" Din asked, entering the sleep quarters. He watched you slumped over in the bed, groaning in discomfort. The child was looking between you both, mostly wondering who was giving him breakfast.

"Hmm?" You hummed, turning to your concerned husband in the doorway. Shivers ran down your back. You reached for blankets, cuddling them tightly. Din made his way to bed picking up the child in the process and setting him on your pillow. Din stood at your side, looking down at you.

"What’s wrong, cyra’ika?" He asked, placing a loving hand on your shoulder, feeling you shake beneath his touch. Din wasn’t liking this one bit.

You coughed, clearing your throat and, said, "I think I caught a bug."

Din sighed and removed his helmet. Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours, feeling the feverish warmth radiating off your skin as he did. More panic started settling in, realizing your hunch was very much correct.

You two had stopped the other day in a busy village totally ran over with a bustling population. You hadn’t thought much as you wove your way through the crowd to purchase the items you were looking for. But, as fate would have it, someone somewhere was incubating something and you caught it.

You melted into Din’s touch, letting your muscles relax a bit, even if it was a peculiar gesture. "What did you do that for?"

He pulled away and replaced his helmet. "What do you mean?" The muffled voice returned.

"You checked my fever with your forehead," you let out a weak chuckle, glancing up at him as you readjusted the blankets. "Don’t we have devices for that or something?"

Din shrugged, "I went the old fashioned route."

"I don’t even think they did that in the old times," you gave a small smile knowing fully well your husband was growing annoyed with you as the seconds went by. Well, what could you say? A little cold wasn’t taking away your feisty attitude

"You’re sick, can barely make it out of bed, and you want to argue with me about how I checked for a fever?" Din asked, his tone holding fake anger.

"Please," you paused, letting a small cough take over for a second. "I haven’t been able to focus on a single thought all morning. Be thankful I’m even awake and talking."

Another shiver came over you after you spoke, sending you into a shaking fit. You pulled the blankets but found you had already acquired all of them. Noticing your distress still, Grogu waddled from the pillows, making himself comfortable in your lap. He looked up at you, eyes squinting in concern. Your heart dropped as you realized you were still neglecting the little guy.

"Oh, shoot," you frowned, "you still need-,"

Din cut you off. "I’ll take care of him. You just rest, cyra’ika."

He scooped up Grogu who was still looking at you, confused. He cooed, trying to reach out to you. Din held him back and motioned for you to lay down.

"Are you sure?" You asked, curling up on the bed.

"Of course," Din nodded and tucked you into the blankets. You smiled stupidly at the care he was giving you.

It was a slightly miserable rest, but you were able to get what felt like just a few minutes (in reality, it had been a few hours) of sleepy bliss before Din came back with Grogu following closely behind. You blinked in confusion, trying to wake up as Din sat at the foot of the cot. Your mind didn’t feel as hazy as it had earlier but the aches were still as present as ever.

You rolled over, greeted by your husband. His helmet had been discarded again and he was watching you, a concerned look in his eyes. You tried giving a weak smile hoping to communicate you were okay. He didn’t seem convinced.

Breaking your stares, a soft babble came from next to the bed. You looked over and were greeted by the child who was holding a little thing of soup. While you couldn’t smell it well, it was steaming and looked fresh, making your stomach give the tiniest rumble.

"Soup?" You coughed. "For me?"

The child extended his arms, trying to hand you the bowl. Two big eyes peeked over the rim as he watched you, waiting. You sat up and graciously accepted the food. You held it close, taking small sips of the wonderful broth. You didn’t even really know there was soup on this ship so either someone spent a nice credit on it or Din had been holding out on you.

"Is it- Does it taste alright?" Din asked, seeming almost… nervous. You gulped down more broth, brows furrowed in questioning.

"It’s wonderful," you nodded. "Why? Is there something wrong with it?"

Din chuckled, "No, no. I just…" He paused, looking down at the floor and then back at you. "You’ve just never been sick before — well, none of us have ever been sick before — and I’m just not used to taking care of someone like… like this."

"Oh, honey-,"

But Din abruptly stood up before you could get anything else out. Planting a sweet kiss on your forehead, he mumbled, "I’m gonna find you some tea."

You frowned but nodded, continuing to drink your soup. You despised when he would do that. He’d open up a little bit and then shut down. Granted, he had gotten better at it the longer your relationship went but you thought marriage would be the helpful push he needed and it hadn’t added up like that so far. But it was fine. You took your own time to reassure him about things, putting words where his sometimes weren’t.

He came back moments later as you finished the last of your food. You handed the bowl back to Grogu who took a second to see if he could find any leftovers for himself. You gave a small smile watching him stick his head in the bowl, hunting.

Din gave you the cup of tea and, just like the soup, you cradled it close, sipping the liquid slowly. The continuous warmth was doing wonders for your throat.

"Maybe you should be a nurse," you said, peaking over the cup at your husband who was again taking a spot at the foot of the bed. He turned to you, a playful smirk on his face.

"A nurse?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Retire and take care of some little ole sick folks like me. You’re doing such a good job at it."

"Was that sarcasm?"

You sighed, dropping the joking act. You reached your one hand to grasp his, which he happily welcomed, and said, "No, riduur, it wasn’t. I mean it. I’ve never felt so cared for before."

Din looked away as if taking in your words. He brought his other hand to pat your connected ones. After what felt like the longest seconds ever, he turned back to you, his grateful eyes meeting yours.

"I’m glad," he said. Your heart raged with love for the Mandalorian before you. Never did you think you’d find someone who comforting, so caring, and yet here he was like a fever dream.

You took in the love he had to offer and placed a light kiss on his cheek, trying to return it just a bit. He smiled and turned to place a real kiss on your lips, but your hand came up in protest.

"I’m disgusting," you explained, disconnecting your touch and returning to cuddling your tea. "Maker knows what germs I got brewing."

"Fine," he sighed, "but you owe me endless kisses once you’re better."

You smiled, "Endless kisses?"

Your husband nodded, "Oh, yeah. So many kisses your lips are going to be so sore."

"Sounds horrible," you giggled, taking a sip of your tea. "But worth it."

Din let out a low chuckle and got up from the bed. He returned a kiss to your cheek and said, "Finish your tea and then get more rest. You need it, cyra’ika."

You nodded in agreement and watched as Din picked up Grogu, and began carrying him out of the space.

"Come on," he said to the child who was watching you. "We need to let your mom sleep."

The child gave a little coo in either agreement or protest (you couldn’t tell but either way it was adorable). You smiled, watching them exit. Finishing up the last of your tea, you placed the cup on the floor and then curled back up in your blankets.

Drifting off, you relished in the comfort of everything. Sure, you were sick out of your mind, but you had two loves waiting for your recovery and eager to make you feel better any way they could. Oh, yeah. This was way more than you could’ve ever asked for.

#din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin oneshot #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian oneshot #star wars #star wars one shot #star wars fanfiction #fluff #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fluff #one shot #writing*

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marimopeace · 3 years

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there's a limit on how much you can be an isekai intellectual...

a bunch of analyses have been popping up before me all day so i wanted to throw my hat into the ring. all love to ppl who are exercising their creative minds + ppl like geoff here who just talk about these things because of fan interest but i feel like there reaches a point where exploring the "types" of isekai is pointless? i've seen ppl list out the different types of villainess revenge isekai or fantasy mmorpg isekai but eh why fit them all into separate boxes like that?

i think it's easier to think of isekai as a "type" (genre) of itself with only two categories: 1) a focus on isekai (lit. another world) 2) tensei (lit. to be reborn). this allows for a variety of applications and thus tropes that ppl see so many trends of!

with isekai - in another world

you see everything from:

pure fantasy (inuyasha, digimon wait maybe not the best example but in my childhood mind i count digimon as pure fantasy, fushigi yugi)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (.hack//legend of twilight, sao ugh, log horizon, overlord (LOVE OVERLORD!)

otome game-esque worlds >>> this is where it gets complicated with "villainess routes" since i admit there are multiple villainess tropes but this is why it's nice to not think of this as a "sub-type/genre" bc it frees you from those complications! (the saint's magic power is omnipotent, the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap soso cute!, the savior's book cafe in another world, i'm a villainous daughter so i'm going to keep the last boss wait i can't remember if she's reborn in this one lmaooo see this is why rules make everything hard)

with tensei storylines - being reincarnated/reborn in another world as *insert character/role*

you see...

the same tropes!!

pure fantasy (a returner's magic should be special, reminiscence adonis, the lady and the beast, light and shadow, i can't think of a manga off the top of my head for this ah)

mmorpg inspired fantasy/adventure (so i'm a spider so what i stan kumoko so hard, her majesty's swarm, can't name another off the top of my head ah i hate lists shorter than two things...)

self-insert based games/novels (fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess, who made me a princess, death is the only ending for the villainess, the villainess wants to marry a commoner, honestly games vs novels are different applications but i'm not in the headspace to try to remember a bunch of both lol)

*insert line break to give random ppl a break from scrolling but tl; dr just enjoy things for what they are no need to micro analyze*

similar variations occur in both genres (if ppl want to be super technical i guess i'm arguing that isekai itself is a massive genre that has the "another world" subgenre and "reincarnation" subgenre tl; dr) so i think it's honestly a huge pain to try to separate all these trends into so many different types of stories. for me personally it's easier to not get overwhelmed by this gigantic umbrella of "isekai" that spans light novels, manhwa, manga, and mobile games by just stripping each story down into its trademark tropes (aka character archetypes, story structures) and slapping "oh this is a person going to a world that's not ours" and "this person gets reborn as blank in another world". none of this "omg this power fantasy is such a this kind of isekai moment" or "there are 14 different types of villainess revenge stories and this series fits into this" bc AH labels! limitations! circle-jerks via ppl trying to compartmentalize everything and sound smart for leaving a comment on story analysis instead of ooh-ahhing over a character's face! dividing things into light novel manga vs manga vs korean manhwa ft. female characters!

the last bit is mainly why i feel frustrated by ppl's insistence to group everything?

the video linked at the beginning of the post (honestly good video essay, i enjoyed it, i just kept thinking in my head the whole time "marimo these are tropes do not take the genre talk literally") has a baby comment thread talking about "korean isekai manhwas" as a genre featuring nothing but reincarnated villainess' and i can't.

like i cannot acknowledge that as a genre of any sort. the energy i felt reading through some of those insights takes me back to 2012 when all yt americans discovered k-pop and deemed all korean music k-pop from then on! (ppl still do this now, yes you are seen and don't talk to me pls i don't like you. k-pop is korean pop music and nothing less and nothing more. take a few seconds and try to parse apart aspects of korean culture instead of slamming everything into a monolithic label that has the letter k and a hyphen.) it feels so odd to see a bunch of young ppl on ig and tiktok acknowledge korean media that happens to be in the form of a webtoon as "oh stories all about young girls becoming villains in stories they made/played" bc it feels so reductive u.u

(positionality disclaimer that i'm praying isn't actually necessary: i am a 3rd-generation korean of japanese descent do not fite me i am exhausted irl of ppl asking for validation/verification bc massive shove off.)

breaking news! korean manhwa...is just as multifaceted as japanese manga...bc how can comics as an art-form not have multiple genres...huh such a shocker?!?! same likely applies to media in other parts of the world like chinese manhwa and french comics--not my place to explain either of those i just know those industries exist bc of wakfu and donghua shows by Tencent.

at the end of the day it's not like analyzing any kind of isekai is wrong--absolutely not!! i think it can be super fun to think about how isekai elements complicate a story (MCs trying to go back home, ppl from the og world, reincarnation plot-twists) or maybe even bash a series for including some kind of other world element when they could have just written a super fun fantasy.

insert marimo's brief ramble that hey you can get sick of truck-kun's hitting disillusioned guys who happen to be super duper smart or girls who happen to be master chefs/craftsmen but transporting a fully-grown being into a fantasy setting is the ultimate cheat code for making mundane modern technology seem cool and overpowered, and being reincarnated as a fully grown person in a world with a pre-made story/game set-up completely bypasses the need for an author to slowly flesh out world-building in a natural progression so isekai is actually a really smart writing tool it's just that there are some series where the author didn't use it well at all and it's cheesy or clearly isekai was misused as a vehicle for character/story development and it was pointless *DEEP BREATH OUT*

in this essay i will argue...lol i am such a culture studies major!! if i were an english major i would be talking all about writing but here i am having a side-tangent about world-building via someone being reborn wow i love this for me (don't get me started on when an author has someone reincarnate as a baby and the story is mostly them having warm fluffy moments with their family--typically father figures--and getting lots of powers i could and would and probably will rant about east asian toxicity)

but anyway am i crazy????? like yes for being passionate about the technical use of a word like genre (i am a scorpio rising let me be fussy pls) but i don't think it's a lot to ask for ppl to not unironically see "villainess revenge isekai" as the definition of korean manhwa.

idk as someone who resonates with why japanese isekai is so popular domestically + why a lot of korean manhwa feat. the same tropes (it's not for great reasons lads it's actually depressing tbh) i'm just starting to feel kind of pained by the generalization and need to separate "cute japanese girl in an otome game"/"japanese boy finds a harem in another world" from "korean girl dies and comes back as a villainess" bc they are just! applications to the same story device!!

recommendations for any who makes it this far down below <3

// also gladly recommend any of the examples i've listed in the above rant as i've read/watched all of them and adore them v much! //

save me princess

super refreshing fantasy manhwa ft. a princess and her ex-boyfriend having to save the world!

the beginning after the end

an AMERICAN web novel turned into a comic (but see it being not korean/japanese doesn't really matter when you just consider isekai as a genre...isn't it nice to not overthink it?) ft. a super-powerful wizard king reincarnated into another world and starting from scratch--gives mushoku tensei vibes but huge twists!

the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion

love love LOVE this story--read the title and you'll learn how this girl reincarnated as the character raeliana in a book gets married to a duke!

trash of the count's family

such a good novel!! a guy gets reborn as a lazy oaf and he takes the hero of the story under his wing...plot twists come up later on!

this time i will definitely be happy!

v good and refreshing for a shorter series! she's been reborn 3 times and remembers every time the hero's stabbed her in the back, and now she just wants to break up with him!

silver diamond

older manga but v good adventure w intrigue! a boy who loves plants get sucked into a desert world with demonic lizards and a mysterious bodyguard by his side. shonen-ai not BL but wonderful vibes nonetheless + great side characters!

the princess imprints a traitor

adore everything in this from the world (not in that way this society makes me so angry) to the machinations at play and the dynamic between the fl and ml

#isekai #mother's basement #inuyasha #digimon #fushigi yugi #.hack//legend of the twilight #log horizon #overlord #the saint's magic power is omnipotent #the white cat's revenge as plotted from the dragon king's lap #a returner's magic should be special #adonis #the lady and the beast #light and shadow #kumo desu ga nani ka #her majesty's swarm #fiance's observation log of a self-proclaimed villainess #death is the only ending for a villainess #the villainess wants to marry a commoner #save me princess #the beginning after the end #the reason why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #trash of the count's family #this time i will definitely be happy!#silver diamond #see i normally put the raw titles for everything but the tiny korean/japanese part of my brain is so tired bc my english brain went off #the princess imprints a traitor #manga #manhwa #donghua

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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work.

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

#Adam Driver #Annette #Cannes 2021 #driverdaily #Annette spoilers

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rainfrazier · 3 years

Text

finished arc 16!

- the passage of time in wildbow stories is truly off the wall sometimes. a week ago they were in turbo jail in an alternate dimension, and then went directly into the teacher fight. this morning vicky and kenzie had a nice french toast breakfast, went to visit byron in the hospital, the gang had a quick fight with damsel and company, went to deathchester HQ, made a pit stop at rachel’s farm to reenact lord of the flies (i love the kenzie focus in these chapters), and then they all round out the day by hacking into the shard dimension. regular tuesday

- 16.8 was such a fucking good chapter and absolutely devastating. everyone reliving their trigger events IN THE MALL and then they all come tumbling out the doors and rain is just standing there laughing maniacally?? incredible. i felt like wildbow personally reached through the screen to punch me in the face like 10 times in rapid succession. the whole sequence from 16.8 through to the end of the arc is definitely one of my favorite parts of the story so far. the whole deal with rain/the cluster/the dream room has been my favorite aspect of ward, partially because i love rain, but also the dream room is just such a cool tool that wildbow uses very well as a way to explore the characters. i was afraid we wouldn’t see the dream room again after arc 12 but i’m glad it continues to be an important element as we move into the final stages of the story.

also every time we get new info about heartbreaker it makes me more glad that he’s dead.

- you have to admire cradle’s perseverance in continuing to be a Grade A Asshole and an absolute menace to the main characters even as he’s stranded in the middle of nowhere on an parallel earth. round of applause

- idk why i nearly burst into tears specifically during the scene where tristan is leaning over victoria trying to check her pulse and she’s thinking about how he looks like a true superhero and wanting to kiss him. like she’s literally on the brink of death and her mind is just so far out of its normal bounds. reading that whole section reminded me of khepri in a way and it made me really sad. also the kids’ heartfelt little goodbye speeches to each other were just so touching.

- [insert in-depth character analysis of tattletale here]

- cradle getting snagged on the shelving in snag’s space, giving the heartbreaksiders the opportunity to kill him?? huge shoutout to our boy in shard heaven. rest in pieces cradle you were a really cool character but man i hated you so much

- IT’S SHARDSPACE, BABY!!!!

- continuing to be extremely emotional about the vera twins until the end of time. from byron’s perspective, the last thing he remembers is probably getting blown up in teacher’s base and the first thing he sees when he wakes up is his brother, completely separated from him and helping him to his feet?? can you imagine. this is the first time in YEARS where they can finally talk to each other like normal or even just fckin LOOK at each other EYE to EYE even though its with the knowledge that byron’s gonna go back to being comatose as soon as the dream room ends. im not crying you’re crying???

^^^wildbow if i dont get an end-of-ward interlude of vista and byron in the puppy bucket i’m gonna

- damsel: “You’re all of the choices, already. Find the face you want, move toward it, let it move toward you. Pass each other.” (ah, literary themes!!)

- i just love the descriptions of the shards in these chapters and how they reflect their hosts. ashley’s shard looks like a burning ladder (fitting her theme of ascension), tattletale’s is an eyeless, mouthless woman constantly conjuring images in the crystals, victoria’s is a hollow shell of “glass, gold, and glory” with a glow from within

- SHARD FIGHT!!! surely victoria passing herself in the crystal (rad as hell btw) and summoning waste in the shardspace will have no effect on victoria’s connection to her shard or have any impact on the manifestation of her power in any way whatsoever. right

- oh no! defiant is mad no one invited him to the slumber party :((((

- oh the amy interludes. amelia “i don’t need therapy!” lavere: “I’d rather have Victoria back in her inhuman shape than not have her in my life at all.” (<- actual quote from the text!!) literally fuck off and die i hate her so much it makes me want to yell and scream.

what *we* did *together*?? doesn’t count???? the degree to which she refuses to take responsibility or control over anything in her life is just infuriating. the failure to enact positive change because she refuses to see herself as anything other than a victim of circumstance. she is literally an antithesis to every theme of healing (funny that she is a healer whose power doesn’t apply to herself) and active personal growth that has been exhibited by the main characters throughout the entire story. “but i had a crappy childhood and no one supported me and then bonesaw came after me :(” like okay. that is true but that doesn’t give you a free pass to shirk complete responsibility for your own actions as if you never even did them in the first place?? rain was brainwashed into a cult and was forced to commit terrorism! he didn’t have control over that! but imagine if rain was just like “mmm yeah that really sucked for me personally but there’s nothing i can do about it now. clearly there is no way to move forward from this in a healthy or constructive manner. guess i will just be evil instead”. maybe amy should go talk to cradle and they can commiserate together about how it’s Not My Fault Why Does Everyone Hate Me.

AND we learn she touched victoria AGAIN in the shin prison. she messed with her brain and then she put it all back together again and was like “see? i am a Good Person :) i am going to get a good grade in being Hinged, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve” and then proceeds to take a piece of vic’s flayed skin and GRAFT IT TO HER CHEST so that she can carry victoria around wherever she goes?? hello????? i could write a ten page essay about my feelings on amy but it would just be the words “bite chomp kill” written over and over. oh and chris. man, i miss being able to have hope for him. like it’s actually sad to see him go down this path. chris and amy are literally the most horrible fucked up pair of characters to be working together. i hate it here. take me back to victoria POV

#ward #spoilers!!#don’t mind me i am just. foaming at the mouth #okay enough amyposting. we have progressed past the need for amyposting [insert that one image by brocktonbay here]#wardblogging

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scary-mostaccioli · 3 years

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May I request EJ and or Toby with a crush on reader who was supposed to be back hours ago so the bois go looking for them and find them bloodied and hurt in the woods, stabbed or shot or burned or crushed under a tree, just something really gory that they should be dead but they’re still breathing and they’re suffering (maybe the bois do a mercy kill?) and the last words the reader utters before they die, despite probably choking on their own blood is “I love you”- An angst-craving Mask Anon :3

This isn’t done but it’s written by honey. If ppl enjoy it I’ll actually finish it for he r- mei

TW: P heavy descriptive gore

Haha yo my description game WEAK rn

If they could just reach it.

Maybe it was a futile effort, but at the very least they could try.

This wasn't an end.

They extended their arm again, reaching as far as they could. Desperately searching the dry, dusty ground with their repeatedly fading eyesight. Could they reach it? They could- they couldn't- they could- Why was it so close, yet they weren't touching it? Why wasn't it in their hands? If they just could reach the jacket- it's all they needed. They could wrap it around their waist- like a bandage! Compression! And then they could return- they could return to the others to get treatment.

They felt a change in texture- but again the feeling was just another small puddle of blood. Why had they placed it there? On the tree of all places. Wrapped around a branch as if abandoned- falling down to the ground to only confirm the concept.

Simply a bump in the road.

The jacket- it wasn't even theirs, now, was it?

Given to them by someone else. Someone teasing them as they left the house. Despite proving their abilities- their place in that home, they were still in disbelief. That 'someone'- still wanting to protect them. And they felt that, getting handed a jacket 'Because it's cold'.

… Because it's cold.

That's why they left the jacket there. Spite. Anger. Defiance. A childish attempt to stick it to someone that didn't believe in them- tying it around a tree. Leaving it. They would return to the house without it- triumphant when blessed with the question, 'Where's my jacket?'

Their rewarded explanation giving themself so much bliss. They're capable enough to survive out in the cold! They're capable enough to do anything the rest of them do!

They felt their throat hitch, something clogging their airway, causing them to cough. Hack, really, forced to watch the blood splatter from their mouth, cough after cough. The force of the action only serving to irritate the wound even more. Their chest was aching, yet there was a sharp pain simultaneously.

It hurt, of course, but it was mainly just frustrating.

…

Would they even be able to talk to them again?

...

Let alone prove their ability.

Their sight was getting darker now- a thick vignette having formed around the edges of their vision.

Their body was much too weak, the arm that had been desperately reaching for the jacket, now lying on the ground. They couldn't lift it as hard as they tried.

At least the pain had begun to subside. Or maybe they were just getting used to it.

They were tired.

They deserved rest.

They had tried so very hard after all.

And they weren't even cold!

Sometimes I wonder what others see~!

"They probably got lost or something stupid like that!"

His coping humor was becoming increasingly obvious the longer they walked. Getting increasingly more annoying the longer the two had the displeasure of walking with each other.

"Or they tripped and passed out- or they decided to take a nap!"

EJ rolled his eyes… well, metaphorically.

"I mean, they could totally get lost, right? They always do-"

His laugh was grating, "I don't know why I agreed to help you look."

The leaves crunching beneath their feet now was the only noise the two shared. The silence was much more welcome to EJ, at least. He could think clearly. He could look for them clearly. The breeze was a nice calming force for any worry he may hold, or any ideas that may fester in his mind as a result of a frightened mind

His searching companion, on the other hand, did not seem to share this sentiment.

"So, uh, do you think they're okay? In terms of…" Toby cleared his throat before shrugging.

—

Okay this was written by honey but idk if she’s coming back to it so if u want a continuation of a wip,,, guess I will

Seems he picked up on his lack of enthusiasm to even consider the question.

Will i remember to continue this? MAybe

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #ticci Toby #eyeless jack x reader #ticci toby x reader

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thegraystreaks · 4 years

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i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always.

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy.

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger. “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been.

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!”

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back. “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.”

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough.

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?”

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?”

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.”

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear.

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

#anonymous #the self-indulgence really jumped out here.....#anyway tell me what u think!!!#my writing #percabeth #percabeth fanfic

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viperbarnes · 3 years

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Hey, idk if your requests are open, but if they are, can I request one with Bucky Barnes? Something where the reader maybe had encountered the winter soldier in the past (but is now maybe working with Sam and has some unspoken feelings with Bucky) and in the scene in ep 3 where Zemo tells Bucky to fight at the bar it ends up bringing her some bad memories of the winter soldier? Later Bucky can tell she's not okay and is acting skittish around him, and when she finally tells him about it he feels extremely guilty but she comforts him? I just love angst with a happy ending :3

I don’t really take requests, but this little idea was kinda inspiring so here ya go boo!

Gif belongs to @unearthlydust

Warnings for violence, blood, and being sick

You know he’s changed.

You know that he’s no longer the man he was when you first encountered him, you know the man he is now, a strange mix of conflicting outspokenness and quiet guilt. You know how he takes his coffee, and that even though he doesn’t necessarily feel the cold, he doesn’t like it all the same.

You know that he sleeps on the floor in his living room despite having a perfectly good bed, that from the moment he’d stepped foot into his apartment he’d had the best mode of escape clocked. You know that he has a secret soft spot for terrible action films, and gets misty-eyed at adverts with dogs in them.

You know all of this, and maybe that’s why it’s so terrifying.

Baron Helmut Zemo rubbed you all kinds of wrong ways, and you hadn’t even been present when he’d shown his face last. There was just something about him that made your skin crawl, but it wasn’t as if you could pull either one of your new partners aside and tell them that.

They already knew, already felt it too.

The feeling gets worse when he voices his plan, giving you all your roles to play, but again, it wasn’t as if you could pipe up and tell him to screw off. You all wanted to, but for now, you needed him and his stupid plan.

It’s how you wind up in too high heels and a little black dress that splits unnecessarily far up your thigh, how Sam ends up in a delightfully adventurous suit, and how Bucky is landed with pretending to still be a brainwashed assassin.

You can’t stop the scowl from taking up residence on your features as you move through the streets of Madripoor, glad that nobody really seems to pay attention to you, not when the Winter Soldier was around.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long for everything to turn to shit, and you nearly hiss at the way Zemo commands Bucky to fight. For his part, Bucky seems completely unperturbed, but perhaps that was part of disturbed you so much.

He’s beautiful, it’s undeniable, even when he fights, it’s magnetic. There was nothing graceful about it by any means, he’s brutal and abrupt, near-mechanical in how he moves. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away, and suddenly, you’re no longer in Madripoor, no longer in your stupid little dress and heels.

You push the man you’re protecting into the back of the car with a mighty shove. The wheels might’ve blown, but it was still another obstacle between him and the attacker.

Smoke blows across the road ahead of you, the flipped car that had previously been part of your convoy crackling with flames from the IED. You’d half expected a group of insurgents, but you’re greeted with just one man, striding confidently through the smoke and right towards you.

He was tall, broad, and covered head to toe in black, only his eyes and hair visible. Sunlight glints off the metallic of his sleeve, but when you take a closer look, you realise it’s not a sleeve at all.

Mouth dry and heart racing, you palm your weapon and fire twice. The man lifts the metal limb and blocks like it’s nothing. He’s nearing now, and for the first time in your career, you feel anxiety overcome you.

He doesn’t even try to attack you until you throw the first punch. He ducks it easily, blocks the follow up blow by batting your wrist to the side. His eyes set on you then, blank and oddly calm, and blue as the sky above.

He pulls back his own fist, and somehow you manage to dodge, jumping back and raising your gun again. No way he’d fair this close. But you’re wrong. You get three shots off before he’s in your face again, hand grabbing the barrel of your gun and yanking it from your grasp. You hear the clatter of it when it hits the ground, but don’t have the chance to formulate your next move.

Your throat is grabbed hard, and you’re forcibly shoved back until you hit the wrecked car. You grasp in vein at the man’s hand as it tightens, and with your back now against something, manage to put all your years of training to use.

You get your foot up between you, planting it harshly in his center mass and kicking with all your might. It seems to take him off guard, because he stumbles back, releasing your throat. You take the moment to turn around, hands banging on the car window.

“Go! Run! I’ll distract him!” You scream at your ward, and watch as the man scrambles from the car, out the opposite door.

You’re about to turn around when the back of your neck is grabbed and thrust forward, connecting with the car window so hard it cracks. You gasp, calling out in pain as blood immediately begins dripping down your face. He pulls you back to do it again, but you drop, becoming dead weight and managing to slip under his legs and out of his hold.

Still, you’re dazed, and blood seeps into your vision making your disorientation even worse. You stumble, knees meeting the ground for a moment as you grab at your forehead and clench your eyes closed to try and clear your head.

The deafening sound of three quick gunshots opens a pit in your stomach, and you just know, without even seeing, that you’d failed.

You get your eyes open by the time the assassin is stalking back towards you, gun holstered now. He closes his fist around your throat again and lifts you clean off the ground, his other pulled back and raised to hit you. You fumble, finding your mark and pulling the gun from his hip, pressing it to his abdomen and firing. Again, he reels back, dropping you and keeling over.

You don’t even attempt to finish him off properly, your fight or flight activated. He was downed anyways, and there was no way he’d give chase with a wound to the center mass like that.

But you’re wrong. You make it barely to the end of the block before something embeds itself between your shoulder blades, the pain so sharp and sudden it makes you fall. Before you know it, a weight is pressing down hard against your shoulder, a boot, and the knife is ripped from your body mercilessly.

You cry out in pain, life flashing before your eyes when a fist harshly grips you by the hair and pulls back your head. You feel the blade, still slick with your own blood, press against your throat.

Sudden yelling makes the assassin freeze, and with your head still raised, you can see the approach of several heavily armoured men in black. The one who shouts is speaking Russian, but your brain was too frazzled to translate properly.

The knife is removed from your throat, and your head released. The weight on your body leaves and you’re left gasping on the asphalt. Spots dance in your vision, but before you pass out, you lift your head just enough to see the assassin join the other men, before they disappear into a dark vehicle.

The place between your shoulder blades aches with memory, and you can think of nothing else for the rest of the night.

Even when you’re taken to see Shelby, even when the fighting starts and you’re forced to run, even when Sharon saves your asses and lets you crash at her place.

You change into the first thing Sharon suggests for you, not even caring. You felt numb, and cold and sick. You position yourself on the couch with the view of all the room’s doors and windows and sit quietly as the others talk. It isn’t until Bucky comes out of nowhere and sits himself next to you that you finally make any noise.

Unfortunately, that noise is a frightened gasp.

Everyone stops to look at you, Sam’s features folded into concern, while Zemo just seemed mildly amused. Bucky looked nearly as surprised as you, his eyes turned up at you. That’s when you realise you’ve shot up, gun in your hands and aimed directly at him.

That same sickness becomes overwhelming then, and the weapon falls from your hands to the carpet with a thud.

“I-- I didn’t--” You swallow thickly, eyes never leaving the man in front of you.

“--I’m sorry…” You manage to blurt out but quickly fly from the room, desperately seeking a sink, or a bathroom of some sort.

You reach a toilet just in time, emptying the contents of your stomach inside. You wheeze and choke as the sick burns your throat and you struggle to breathe, your eyes stinging as you hack and heave.

Hands gently pull at your hair, gathering it out of your face and holding it back, a warmth dropping beside you in the tiny space. You half expect to find Sam or Sharon, but you’re not unsurprised to find Bucky crouched down, his features a mix of sympathy and concern.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs, free hand moving to rub over your back soothingly, unintentionally brushing over your long-healed stab wound.

“I’m sorry…” You rasp when it seems you’re finished.

“You alright?” Is all he asks, hand moving to steady your shoulder when you move back from the toilet. Your miserable nod allows him to stand, and he closes the lid and flushes, before staring down at you and offering you his hand.

You don’t hesitate before taking it. You know Bucky. You know he’s changed.

He hovers over you as you step into the bathroom, seeking mouthwash that you use three times before you feel actually refreshed, and splash some water on your hot and splotchy face.

“You alright?” He asks again, looking at you in the mirror.

“I…” You trail off, clearing your throat.

“I forgot how good you are with your fists.” You tell him, attempting a smile, but it just comes out pained.

Bucky frowns at first, blinking in confusion until his eyes flash with recognition and he sucks back a breath.

“I-- I can go. Or you can. You don’t have to--”

“-- No, Bucky, I’m not quitting this.” You say firmly, turning to face him properly. He seems to be pressing himself against the wall, attempting to make himself look small and unthreatening, which was hard to do when he was a six foot four super soldier built like a tank.

“It wasn’t real.” He says quietly, avoiding your eyes, and you smile tightly.

“I know. But you’re a good actor.”

His eyes flicker up to yours, pained, and you cough.

“Buck, it’s… it’s not your fault.” You tell him, but his chin only drops further.

“I nearly killed you.” He hisses, more anger in his voice than you’re expecting.

“But you didn’t. And my freak out was just--” You cut yourself off, humming.

“My freak out was because I haven’t seen you fight since then, but I’m not scared of you James.” You step forward then, close enough to draw his eye.

“You pulled a gun on me.” He says, the hints of a joke playing in his words.

“I’ve pulled guns on lots of people, doesn’t make me scared of them.” he lets you move closer still, and hesitantly you reach out, laying a hand on his arm.

“I don’t like to see you like that, Buck… it’s awful.” You admit, glad when his posture seems to relax some.

“It’s not you.” You go on, trying not to give too much away, but you’re sure you’re already seen through.

“If I can help it, it won’t happen again.” He tells you, and you finally lift your gaze to make eye contact.

Something sparks between you, something that had been subtle and unspoken up until now. Something that had been there, lurking under the surface ever since he’d shown up on your doorstep several months back, just to let you know he was in the city and going to therapy. It was there when you’d tentatively begun hanging out, neither of you really having anybody else, but not being too bothered by that either.

It’s something big and intimidating that draws you closer together, hearts beating quick and shallow under your skin. Bucky’s eyes flicker to your lips, and suddenly everything seems real.

“Hey, everything alright?” Sam appears in the open doorway, and you jump away from each other. The other man’s eyes travel between the two of you suspiciously, and you scramble to get a handle on the situation.

“Just had a bad shot at the bar.” You tell him, glancing sideways at Bucky who avoids all eye contact.

“... Right…” Sam draws out the word.

“Well, Sharon’s party is getting started, so…”

“Right! Yeah! I’ll… I’ll go… to that… the party. Now.” You stutter and stumble over words, quickly pushing past him and leaving the room.

Sam stays in the doorway, watching you leave, before his gaze swivels back to Bucky.

“Called it.” He says smugly, and Bucky’s eyes snap to him.

“What?”

“I called that you two had a thing.” He teases. Bucky glares and crosses his arms.

“We don’t have a thing. There is no thing.” He insists, but Sam only hums, shrugging.

“That’s why I walked in on the two of you about to eat each other’s faces off.”

Bucky scrunches up his nose.

“That’s… gross.” He tells the other man, who ignores him.

“You got time for that later. I’m sure Zemo’s plane has a stall big enough for two. For now, we gotta go.”

Bucky can only grumble in annoyance as he follows Sam from the bathroom, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of commentary he was set to receive from now on.

Still, as he watches you slip on those sleek black heels, he thinks there’s probably worse things to put up with.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/you #bucky barnes/reader #tfatws spoilers #Anonymous

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blursed-ninjago-ideas · 3 years

Text

As promised.

So the only backstory you really need here is that there’s a huge dip in crime and the ninja are bored. Kai turns to Chirp for ideas on what to do and gets a lot of people recommending this new app called “OvK”. So he tries it out and loves it. Jay also heard about it and downloaded it and the two of them have been avid users of it since.

Pixal has concerns.

Pixal was suspicious.

It was just an app, but it was bothering her. With the sudden drop in crime, she had the time to investigate.

Something about the way Kai and Jay wouldn’t put their phones down. Something about the glazed look they had. Something about their insistence that the others try it.

First, Pixal looked at the reviews.

They were all overwhelmingly positive. Not a single negative opinion or fault to be found. Well, they would be far from the first to sanitize their app store reviews.

Pixal moved on to social media and still found nothing. Not a single person trying to hate on it. Which was just impossible. Even if the app was perfect, there would be people naysaying purely based on the fact that it was popular. Not one article trying to get hate clicks. Not one troll trying to upset people. Not one hipster wannabe trying to be “above” the trend.

It sat poorly with Pixal.

She turned to the parts of the internet that made her feel sticky and gross. She tried to do it the old-fashioned way to avoid feeling it, but got nowhere. She had to deep dive.

Even plugging herself in and digging through sketchy archives, she couldn’t find any negative opinions.

She did find holes though. Places where she sure there once was her sought after negative reviews. But they had been scrubbed. Erased. The only trace of what they were being what was missing.

It scared Pixal. These cites weren’t easy to hack and they sure couldn’t be bought. Some of them were borderline impossible to get into unless someone could do what Pixal did and immerse themselves into the code.

She was even more concerned.

She tried to look into the code of the app itself, but it didn’t make sense. It looked fine, but Pixal couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something scrubbed from there too. Something it had hidden in response to her snooping.

She didn’t like how Kai looked when he used it. It looked familiar, the expression. A blank smile with unfocused eyes. Something she’d seen on him somewhere before. It stirred feelings of concern and fear.

Jay’s expression matched him when he used the app, but Pixal didn’t think she recognized it on him.

She wanted to share her concerns with Zane, but she wasn’t sure what they were yet. That Kai and Jay had phone addictions? That the app they were using seemed too well liked?

She was considering her options while she walked down the hall, catching sight of Kai and Lloyd as she passed the open door.

Kai was showing Lloyd something on his phone, probably the OvK app she was so worried about. That wasn’t what stopped her dead though.

Lloyd had that same blank glassy smile, and she recognized it on him. Seeing Kai and Lloyd next to each other, she finally figured out what she was seeing.

Content and thoughtless. That was how they looked when Zane had microchipped them.

Pixal’s concern overflowed.

“PUT THE PHONE DOWN!” she screamed.

Kai and Lloyd both looked up, still shaking off whatever trance they were in, but thankfully shaking it off none the less.

“Pixal? What are you- HEY!” Kai yelled as she snatched the phone from him.

She thought briefly about snapping the thing in half. She stopped herself so she could exam it. But no, that wouldn’t work. The app covered it’s tracks too well. Probably because there was an intelligence behind it.

Was it Zane?

Pixal’s breathing was panicked. Good thing she only breathed for aesthetic, otherwise she would’ve been hyperventilating.

“Pixal, give me my phone back.” Kai said, reaching for the thing.

“NO!” she yelled

“What’s wrong?” Lloyd asked.

“That app isn’t normal.” Pixal said, trying to figure out how to put her concerns into words.

Kai raised an impatient eyebrow.

“You two looked…you liked like you did when Zane was all ‘Overkill’. I didn’t recognize it at first, and I didn’t recognize it on Jay, but seeing both of you next to each other, there’s no doubt.”

“Pixal, it’s just a phone app. It’s not capable of mind control.” Kai said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know what it’s capable of, but I do know what I saw, and I know that somebody has been scrubbing negative reviews of it off the internet with the skill I think only a nindroid could manage.”

Kai’s brow furrowed. Conflict. He believed her of course, but a part of him was still trying to deny it. He was fighting with himself on it.

“Are you sure?” Lloyd asked.

“Kai?” Pixal said, ignoring Lloyd for a moment.

Kai’s clear struggle didn’t look good.

“Yeah, I just….I don’t….” Kai gripped his head.

“Kai, are you ok?” Lloyd asked.

“I….I think Pixal is right.” Kai said “I’m….I don’t feel normal.”

Kai hissed in pain. Pixal and Lloyd rushed forward to catch him as he fell forward.

“I’m….I want to argue with you about this and I don’t know why.” Kai confessed “I think….I think you’re right. Something’s gotten into me.”

“We need to get Jay off this too.” Lloyd said

“Pixal, get that thing away from me before I take it back.” Kai said, pushing himself away from her.

“Take my phone too. I downloaded it.” Lloyd said, handing his phone over to Pixal.

“Right. I’ll go get Jay’s phone from him, maybe Nya and Cole’s too for good measure.” Pixal said, turning to leave “You two….try talking to Zane. I don’t want to think that he’s behind this but…”

They nodded. Kai seemed more lucid, having shaken off the last of his issues.

Oh wow. Is Zane crazy again? Or is someone else behind it this time? Who knows!?

And wow Kai, you sure seemed to catch on to that real quick. It would be a shame if that were to....cause problems for you later. >:)

Anyways, there’s more written and a little bit more planned. IDK when I’ll post more, but engagement is nice.

-Ivy

#Mod Ivy #ninjago #lego ninjago #blursed ninjago aus #overkill au #blursed ninjago snippets

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sidespart · 4 years

Note

Fanfic title: the sound of falling stars

Supernatural Sci-Fi AU, Royality or LAMP

Patton, Virgil and Logan are engineers for some kind of inter galactic company (like star fleet but with more capitalism I guess?). They’re pretty low level and are basically a glorified salvage crew. They have their own ancient ship which constantly seems to be falling apart and they mostly get sent to deal with decommissioned ships/ stations. They pick them over for anything useful to The Company and set whatever is left over to drift off towards the nearest star.

They’ve all got some backstory for how they ended up with this rubbish job. Logan is super smart genius engineer but couldn't afford to go to The Academy (that’s for Earth People and he’s some poor outer edge colonist), he got in on a scholarship but pissed off the wrong people with his attitude and ended up with this assignment. Virgil deliberately picked an assignment that would keep him as far away from other people as possible...(on the run from a Dark and Tragic Past??) Patton also chose this assignment - he is the true explorer, but knew he didn't have the money or connections to get to get star ship assignment, and he isn't exceptional like Logan, but this way he still gets to see the universe.

So at the start of the story they work okay together but arn’t super close - Logan has a bit of an ‘i’m better than this’ attitude, Virgil doesn't want to be friends with anyone and deliberately pushes them away. Patton is trying but is mostly ignored by the other two.

The Company takes over a smaller organisation which has been struggling for a while. The crew are sent to pick over a newly acquired space station orbiting a star right on the edge of Company space. This place hasn’t been inhabited for years but the original owners never cleared it out properly due to lack of funds.

So they get there. The stations life support isn’t on so Patton heads over first (in a space suit) to turn it on manually whilst the other two monitor remotely. (Logan is better suited to hacking into the station from their ship computer once Patton plugs their....space flashdrive....in to the stations ops centre and Virgil is fucking terrified of space walks but they’re pretending not to know that).

Everything goes smooth. The lights and air come on, Patton takes off his helmet - and hears singing.

Nice singing. Not like the crackling automated voice that the station computer speaks with. And despite their best efforts they cannot find a source.

Virgil thinks the place is haunted. Logan thinks its just a glitch with the communications software. Patton’s inclined to to agree with Logon, except day 3 of their salvage operation Patton starts singing an old song from home, and the voice starts singing it back.

When the voice has finished repeating the lyrics Patton had sung, it carries on the song, making up its own lyrics and tune to finish it off. (Patton applauds when it’s done).

Patton tells the other two about it but Logan dismisses it - the song is probably in the stations entertainment archives somewhere - but Patton’s not so sure. The voice sings classical music (MCR) around Virgil without any verbal prompting. And it’s...kind’ve sassy? It will wait until Logan is just about to take a sip of his coffee before suddenly bursting into LOUD operatic singing - making Logan spill his drink.

Privately he thinks the voice has so much personality it deserves a name - he starts calling it ‘Roman’.

Roman’s influence seems to more than just the communications system. The longer they stay the more unexplained stuff keeps happening. The coffee machine in the old canteen turns itself on just before Logan reaches to do it himself. When Virgil and Pat get separated exploring the lower levels, warm red lights turn on guiding them back together. When the three of them agree to take an evening off and watch a movie, Cinderella comes on no matter how many times they try to change it. When they eventually give in and watch it, the room temperature turns up just a bit and the lights dim, making the room as cosy as possible.

Eventually all three of them have to agree that this is something beyond just the stations interface. But WHAT exactly Roman is is still a mystery - an incredibly sophisticated AI? An Alien? Some mysterious research project left behind by the old owners?

A Ghost?

Before they can start to figure it out The Company sends a message to say that, due to the size of the job and how long it’s taking them, they’re going to send additional teams to help out.

If The Company discovers Roman, there’s no doubt in any of their minds that they will do whatever it takes to pick him apart for study. Even if means destroying him in the process.

So now they have to choose between staying loyal to The Company, who is responsible for their jobs, ship and bringing them together in the first place, or figuring out a way to protect this disembodied personality in a space station that they’re not even sure is ‘alive’.

Easy choice.

Bonus:

At some point Pat’s gotta go to some romantic looking observation deck and dance whilst Roman sings some schmaltzy number (and start imagining he was dancing with someone/ trying to picture what Roman would look like if he had a body).

Roman talks Virgil down from a panic attack by beeping the stations controls in time with his breathing count

Big dramatic ending where Patton and Virgil are convinced Logan has downloaded Roman onto The Companies servers in exchange for being given the more prestigious position he has been denied for so long

But PSYCH. Logan escorts them back to their original piece of shit ship and reveals that THAT’s where he moved Roman too - they’ve now got a singing ship instead of singing station

Sequel where the four of them are On The Run. Maybe ending with Roman being downloaded into a human/robot body so they can finally all hug idk

SPACE STUFF

For the fake fic titles asks (please dont send anymore at the moment!)

#roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #royality #lamp #sanders sides #fake fic meme #this one got #wildly out of hand #i just love dumb sci fi stuff you guys #Anonymous #sidespart writes

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agentlemuse · 4 years

Note

i was thinking about a buddie prompt where eddie gives buck puppy eyes (role reverse haha) to get him to make his fav dessert or something idk!! love your writing :)))

His body has betrayed him.

He supposes he can’t be too mad, it has been awhile since it decided to break down. Eddie can’t even remember the last time he was sick enough to admit he was actually sick. El Paso, if he had to guess. Before Shannon left. That’s right, she took Chris and stayed at his parents’ house so they wouldn’t catch whatever he caught. Seems so long ago now.

The thing is, he doesn’t have time to be sick. Even if he can spare a sick day from work that he purposefully reserves for Chris should he need him, he can’t exactly take time off from being a dad. He has to keep going, that’s the gig.

So trust his body to break down the day after Chris leaves for camp. His body may have betrayed him, but at least it has impeccable timing. That’s something, right?

Eddie spends the first night of Chris’ grand adventure away making a damn good attempt at coughing up his lungs. Sleep eludes him as he sweats through his sheets, the dampness of the fabric and the fever ravaging his body making his teeth chatter so hard he wakes up with a sore jaw. Doesn’t matter, he’s too nauseous to eat. He spends a good hour debating the pros and cons of laying on the cool tile floor to wait for death when Buck begins to blow up his phone.

“Look, you’ve had enough time to wallow,” Buck starts in, not bothering to wait for or offer a greeting when Eddie finally accepts the call. Eddie can’t help but grin, even as he buries his head further in his pillow. “I have given this a lot of thought and I’ve created an itinerary to keep us busy while Chris is away.”

“Can’t,” Eddie mumbles against his pillowcase, wincing at the scratchiness of his voice.

“...Why do you sound weird?”

“Dying,” Eddie states flatly, tensing against the latest round of coughing to wreak havoc on his throat.

“Are you sick,” Buck asks with concern even as Eddie coughs his confirmation. He can practically hear Buck thinking as the silence stretches for a moment. “Is someone coming to take care of you? Isabel?”

“I don’t want to get her sick.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Buck you don’t have to--” Eddie croaks, but Buck has already hung up. He should call him back. He should protest Buck risking his health and wasting his free day by taking care of him. He should do a lot of things, but he doesn’t. He knows Buck well enough to know he’d be wasting both of their time.

By the time he hears Buck’s key in the door he has dragged himself to the couch, wrapping himself up in as many blankets as he could find along the way. It may be the middle of summer, but he’s freezing. It’s the fever, he knows, but he doesn’t care. He’s cold and the blankets are comfy.

“Okay, I know you’re Mr. Tough Guy,” Buck starts in, geared up for a fight as he marches his way into the living room having clearly been practicing this speech in his head on the way over. “And I know you can take care of yourself, but it’s not going to kill you to accept some he--”

“Soup,” Eddie asks hopefully, interrupting Buck’s speech as he glances down at the bags in Buck’s hands. Buck looks like a puppet whose strings have been cut, all fight knocked out at him upon realizing Eddie isn’t going to protest his presence.

“I -- Uh, yeah. Chicken noodle. Bobby’s recipe.”

Eddie perks up a bit, pushing his face out of his blanket where he had burritoed himself in. “I like chicken noodle.”

Eddie likes to think he’s pretty good at reading Buck by now, but he’s not sure what to make of the soft expression that’s currently on Buck’s face. There’s a fondness there like when Chris hands him a piece of art he made, but something else. Something he can’t quite place. He blames his fever.

Buck gets to work on laying everything out, grabbing a bowl and spoon from the kitchen before filling a bowl up for Eddie to eat. As good as the soup smells, he’s reluctant to remove himself from his blanket, but he forces his arms out into the open air.

“You’re not wearing a shirt,” Buck observes, eyes trailing down his newly exposed skin, but surely isn’t bothering him. They’ve seen each other without their shirts plenty of times.

“I’m hot.”

“I can see that,” Buck grins, his knee tapping against Eddie’s own playfully. The back of Buck’s hand is cool against his forehead, which must explain the sudden shiver traveling down his spine. “Jesus Eddie, you really are burning up.”

Eddie shrugs, carefully swallowing sips of soup under Buck’s watchful eye. “Thanks for the soup.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” Eddie insists. Only one other person has ever made him soup when he was sick and that was his abuela when he was eight and she was in town visiting. No one has taken care of him when he was sick as an adult. He hasn’t asked, but a small part of him has always hoped someone would offer. Buck offered without prompting, so yeah, it’s definitely something. “The soup is really good. My compliments to the chef.”

Buck straightens at the praise, his smile now reaching his eyes in a way that makes his birthmark crinkle. It’s a good smile. He likes being the one to put it on Buck’s face.

“Eat up, we’ll have you feeling better in no time.”

He expects Buck to leave after he finishes eating, but instead he does the dishes before settling next to him on the couch. He expects Buck to leave when the sun starts to go down, but instead Buck runs his long fingers through Eddie’s sweaty hair without complaint, massaging his head until Eddie’s falling asleep under his touch. He expects him to leave as Eddie curls pitifully into bed, but he stays, bringing him fresh glasses of water and stroking his back as he hacks and wheezes throughout the night.

He expects Buck to leave, but he stays. He stays. He stays.

“Maybe tomorrow we can have ice cream?”

“Eddie, dairy will make your mucus thicker which will cause more draining and...Are you giving me puppy dog eyes?”

Yes, yes he was. In his defense, it always seems to work on Buck when Chris does it. Chris is much cuter and an actual child, but still.

“Please?”

“Eddie, I don’t think…”

“Please, Buck? It will make me feel better.” Buck sighs, but by lunchtime he has ice cream.

The look also gets him control of the remote, free head massages and the right to use Buck’s thigh as a human pillow. Or maybe it’s just because he’s sick. Either way, Buck doesn’t put up much of a fight, even when Eddie wipes his snot on Buck’s shirt to Buck’s absolute horror. It is almost worth the side cramp he gets from laughing and coughing so hard simultaneously.

“The kleenex are too far away.”

“They’re literally right there,” Buck exclaims, pointing towards the box sitting right in front of Eddie’s face.

“Your shirt is softer.”

“You’re disgusting.”

He is, but Buck still stays. He stays until Eddie can admit he doesn’t want Buck to go.

“I think your fever finally broke,” Buck says softly on the fourth day, his fingers moving from Eddie’s forehead to stroke through his hair. Eddie’s head rests on Buck’s thigh, still wrapped up in a pile of blankets as he lays out across the couch.

He was always going to get better. Buck was always going to leave. Still, he was hoping for a little bit longer. It’s selfish, but it’s there.

“Maybe, but you should stay a bit longer just to make sure,” Eddie ventures, voice soft as he stares ahead at the TV.

“You know, that’s probably not a bad idea.”

“And maybe, if you get sick, I could take care of you.” Eddie does look up at him then, blue eyes staring back down at him with that soft look he can’t quite place.

“I’d like that,” Buck grins, his birthmark crinkling as it reaches his eyes.

Buck doesn’t get sick for another four months, but when he does Eddie is there. Buck doesn’t even have to ask.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #soft eddie #prompts #I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #my stuff

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