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brotherblaze · 1 year

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JAILBAIT² —simon 'ghost' riley

▹ simon 'ghost' riley/gn!reader

▹ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

▹ synopsis: Ghost leaves you in Soap's care while he's away on a mission and the two of you get along like a house on fire. So much so, that Ghost's first order of business upon his return is to drag your asses home from a pub.

▹ cw: suggestive themes

▹ wc: 2,7k

▹ info: i'm blocking blank/default blogs; y'all look like bots

The training room is loud. You spot Price and Ghost in the corner of the room, overseeing whatever the newbies are doing; you think they take rotations overseeing the newbies but you don't care enough to actually ask. Ghost has his arms crossed over his chest, intently staring at two recruits sparring and you almost feel sorry for the poor sap that's gonna get his spirits absolutely crushed by him.

"I know that you've got a lot on your mind like 24/7, but God, if you don't look like a brainless bimbo with a dump truck ass standing there like that." You smile when he looks at you, head slightly tilted to the side. A few heads turn to you, probably whispering their condolences to your future as you stop in front of Ghost. "I dig it, I dig it so much."

"How about we use our inside voices?" Price says.

"Yeah, sure, okay dad." You clap your hands together once. "I got a B on my final essay and I'm here for my prize."

Price cracks a smile. He places his hands on your shoulders and squeezes gently. "I'm proud of you." The smile his words get is wide, a glimmer in your eyes.

When he pulls back, Ghost leans in, his mouth at your ear, black balaclava pulled up to his nose. His warm breath caresses the shell of your ear, sends a shiver down your spine, and has blood rushing to your cheeks. "Good job, pet." The tone is low, savory, thick.

And fuck, your beaming smile has his heart thundering in his chest like a wild horse. The blood is rushing so loudly in his ears that he doesn't even hear what you say before you take off again. He lingers for a few moments, staring at the doorway, willing his pulse to slow down again.

Soap grabs the office chair next to yours and sinks into it. He pulls himself closer to you, still keeping a respectful amount of distance between you. You wonder if Ghost had managed to scare him, too. Although afraid or not, he leans against the table you're sitting behind. He glances at the puzzle game open on your laptop screen, then looks at you.

"So, why 'Jailbait'?"

"Slang terms like 'jailbait' are hard to find an equivalent to in other languages. Especially if the languages are from different language families. 'Jailbait' is Germanic, I'm more comfortable speaking Uralic."

"You're not American?" He seems surprised. You shake your head.

"No, I just spent an ungodly amount of time watching American cartoons as a child; I'm from mainland Europe. I thought the term 'jailbait' meant someone who looks younger than they are, and Simon won't stop making fun of me over it—it's been three years." You look up from your laptop, eyes narrowed at the people in the briefing room—Ghost, Price, Gaz, and others you don't recognize—then look towards Soap. "And Price likes enabling him. Thanks for embarrassing me in front of my boyfriend, dad."

Soap physically takes a double take and you raise a brow. "You—"

"I really didn't think military men are this gullible." You turn your office chair towards him and jab him gently in the shin. "No, we're not related, but I'd say he's a better father figure than my actual father; tells me he's proud of me and all. We lived in the same building for a short while."

Soap relaxes; like he's had the weight of the world taken off his shoulders. He tilts his head back, a low string of Scottish curses leaving his lips. Finally, he looks at you, a small grin on his face. "I see why he calls you a pain in the ass."

"That's the name of the game." You pull your chair closer to him, one leg slotting between his so you're close enough to talk without anybody overhearing. "You got any dirt on Simon or Price? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

He thinks for a moment, then smiles. "Okay. Ghost thinks we don't know he likes listening to Lady Gaga."

"He sleeps on his back like vampires in those old movies. I have pictures."

"I need those pictures. Price once passed out on the couch after three beers while the rest of us were eating Christmas dinner."

"Price used to do positive affirmations in the morning."

"Ghost buys his underwear only on sale; said it was a good financial decision."

"He still does that. Oh, he's a total cat dad, even though my cat doesn't understand him 'cause I don't talk to her in English."

Ghost's voice drifts in front behind Soap. "I'm going to make that cat bilingual." Soap freezes, and immediately shakes it off. He glances at Ghost with a slight chuckle. Ghost tilts his head to the side. "You two look chummy."

"Trading secrets; y'know, the usual." You nod at him, taking in the tactical gear, the weapons holstered on his body, the new mask. "Betcha gotta fight off the ladies with a stick looking like that. What's up?"

"We're heading out, should be back by tomorrow. Johnny, I'm leaving them in your care." He talks like he's handing over the most important mission. Maybe you should start compiling the differences between Ghost and Simon. "You," he flicks his fingers against your forehead, and you frown, placing your cool fingers over the place he flicked, "don't bully him, and take your medication and your vitamins."

"I don't need my antidepressants as long as I can look at your ass." You roll the office chair slightly to the side to catch the curve of Ghost's ass. "Tactical asscheeks—I'm feeling better already."

Ghost makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat and you grin. You reach into your hoodie pocket and pull out your pill organizer, dramatically flipping open today's empty pocket. The remaining pills rattle when you shake it.

"Hey, Si," you begin, fitting the pill organizer back into your hoodie pocket, "what sound does a sleeping T-Rex make?"

"Copy. Behave."

"Me? Always."

He's gone quickly after that. Life continues on around you. So, you push the worry to the back of your mind, tuck it away somewhere you might forget about it. Soap is sitting next to you and you turn your laptop slightly to give him a view of the show on your screen.

"I'm surprised he didn't answer your joke; he's the king of shitty jokes," he says in the middle of the opening credits.

"He's not supposed to; he's gotta come home to hear the answer."

Suddenly, Soap understands.

You don't race to greet him when he returns.

And then he gets word that someone drove you and Soap to a nearby pub. And forgot you there.

He's suddenly invigorated from the draining mission by cold fury in his veins.

Price intercepts before Ghost can verbally eviscerate the person who drove you, pulls him away by the shoulder and wraps his fingers around a car key.

The drive is silent until they pull up to the supposed pub you're at. Ghost slams the car door shut with more force than necessary and Price doesn't bother saying anything.

The insides are dimly lit, the scent of alcohol sharp in the air. There's a rowdy group in the corner, a cake in the middle of the table. Ghost doesn't immediately spot you anywhere in the pub and it's got his heart racing, chest tight, because fuck, you're supposed to be here and every scenario of what if starts flooding into his mind like a violent torrent of water.

"Simon!" His head snaps up when he hears his name in your voice and you're emerging from the crowd of people with a bright smile. You throw your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms so tightly around you that you wheeze. His grip relaxes slightly. Price walks past him, towards Soap who's emerging from the same crowd, drunk. He almost stumbles over a loose floorboard.

"You having a party?" Ghost asks you and you giggle. He brings one hand to rest on the back of your neck as you pull away, his thumb stroking your jawline.

"We were gonna have a drinking competition but those guys asked if we wanted to celebrate with them 'cause someone didn't come and they didn't wanna waste the drinks." You point towards the group and Simon realizes they're all young women, about your age. They wave and you return the gesture with a gleeful giggle. "Think they asked 'cause they like Soap."

"Well, wave your new friends goodbye, we're leaving."

Ghost lets you go and watches you hurry back to the group of young women. They seem saddened at your departure, taking turns hugging you and shouting their goodbyes to you and Soap as you leave. Ghost helps guide you into the car, hand on your head as you duck to climb in and he buckles you up. You want to protest, tell him you're not five and can do it yourself, but he moves with such efficiency that you bite your tongue.

The drive is silent. You fiddle with the car radio but can't find a station signal. It's frustrating and in the end, you just leave it, white noise and all. Ghost turns it off.

"Fuckin' shitty thing," you mutter under your breath. "Hate this. Fucking hate Freud—why the fuck is he the father of modern psychology? He was a fucking pussy ass bitch who made really good points in his early work but then backpedaled and went 'oh well, actually, every male child sees their father as competition and every female child sees their mother as competition because they both have the desire to copulate with the parent of opposite sex', like what the fuck, dude? His patients had literally been abused as children and he gaslit the shit out of them and I'm supposed to hail this piece of shit turd as the end all be all? No, fuck that."

You pause to take a breath, already gearing up the rest of your rant, and Ghost speaks up.

"What's the name of that one show with the big robots?"

There's a momentary silence as you turn to stare at him. "Evangelion?"

"The one with the kid who cries a lot." He presses his thigh against the steering wheel and opens the bottle of water in the cup holder. He passes it to you.

"Evangelion." You take a sip of water.

"What's the plot about?"

"Do you want it chronologically or the way the anime put it? Fuck that, you're getting chronology. Shut up, listen—"

Price is almost in awe at the way Ghost has managed to de-escalate your rant. He recalls the one and only time he's seen you drunk like this, crying in the apartment building elevator, shaky breaths and choked sobs between cussing out the self-service checkout in the grocery store down the street. He hadn't known what to do, how to make you feel better, so he'd ended up sitting on the cold tiled floor of the hallway with you, not catching half of what you'd said, but still listening.

Now he's here, years later, listening to you prattle about hundred-meter-tall angels and robots piloted by children and whatever else, with someone who's successfully managed to defuse your breakdown-inducing drunken rant. And Ghost is listening intently, interjecting with a question every now and then.

Your arrival at base gets a few stares from others. They're easily swayed by Ghost's venomous look in their direction, all of them turning back to what they'd just been doing. Price grabs Soap and bids you goodnight.

Simon exhales a heavy breath when the two of you are finally in your (temporarily) shared room. The door clicks locked behind him and he tugs his balaclava off. You're still talking, wildly gesturing, but you've switched languages three times now and Simon has lost any thread of plot he'd understood.

He sinks down onto his bed with a tired sigh, head tilted back, eyes closed to allow himself this one moment of peace, one last pause before he can pass out next to you. He hears you stop in front of him, hands cradling his cheeks.

"Please kiss me, Simon." Your voice is a whisper into the cool air, hands dipping down the columns on his neck.

"You're so needy," he rasps, large hands now on your waist, pushing under your shirt. You're so warm and you startle when his cold hands make contact with your skin. You nod then, a small 'uh-huh' said under your breath, fingers tapping nonsensical patterns against his shoulder.

Either that or you suck at morse code.

Simon helps you shimmy out of your jacket and shirt, his fingers hooking behind your bra clasp.

Simon Riley is all jagged edges and scars, rough hands dripping with blood. So much blood—there's not enough water in the world to wash it all off. Sometimes he can't get the taste out of his mouth. He moves with the precision of a killer, tries to make no unnecessary movements, nothing that would threaten to compromise the mission.

You—you're soft. There's a glimmer in your eyes when you call out his name or see a dog on the street, a flower blooming between the cracked pavement of a sidewalk. Your hands cradle his face gently to place a kiss on his lips, like he's made of glass and any force you might exert when you touch him will make him shatter. You don't keep an umbrella on you, but a coral pink raincoat, tucked into the bottom of the bag you go to university with, right next to your apartment kets clipped to a plush raccoon.

You take hour-long showers twice a week just to focus on hair care.

What the fuck, you had said when you'd found out he showers in three minutes. The water doesn't even heat up properly in three minutes, you'd said. Simon had only shrugged.

His hot mouth trails down your neck, your collarbones, chest, all open-mouthed kisses. Wet tongue flicks your nipple and even your moans are soft. The breath that escapes you when he repeats his action is a soft exhale. Soft, soft, soft, too soft for him, too good for him—he's a seasoned killer, the shadow that goes bump in the night and grabs grown men from the back, a knife to the jugular as his departing gift.

The scent of your strawberry body kit washes away the scent of iron in blood.

"Stop teasing."

"You're drunk," he says, low murmur against your skin, reverberating into the hollow of your chest.

"'M not." You run your fingers through his blond hair, nails raking against his scalp. It's just barely long enough for you to grab a handful and tug and it elicits a breathy moan from him, forces the tension out of his neck and he leans further into you, hands on your hips.

More, just one more moment of solace, and then Simon is grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it over your head. He's a solid rock, unmoving as you use him as a point of leverage to peel your jeans off. He helps you into your yellow sleeping shorts, tightens the white drawstrings, and knots them.

His eyes fall on the faint marks on your thighs, most of them already healed. There's one, though, darker than the others that's still having trouble fading. He leans down, presses a gentle kiss against that one.

"Tease," you grumble. "Pain in my ass."

And he laughs, tired and suddenly in pain again, ribs aching from a blow he took to his bulletproof vest. He smacks your thigh and you tell him something not-so-nice in a language he doesn't understand as you climb past him to get to your cot.

By the time Simon has shrugged off his own clothes, neatly folded and placed where they usually are, you're mumbling incoherently, fading fast. The corners of his mouth curl up slightly. You reach for him and he takes your hand, fingers lacing together. He's careful as he lowers himself onto the cot that sometimes screeches and groans.

"Hey, Si," you mumble, "what sounds does a sleeping T-Rex make?" Even half-asleep, you pause for dramatic effect. "A dino-snore."

"Good one."

He pulls you close, close as he can, and presses a kiss onto your forehead.

bonus: When Ghost comes back from his run the next morning, he finds Soap in your (temporarily) shared room, sitting on your cot as you explain the lore of Evangelion to him. You have charts.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley fanfiction #ghost fanfiction #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod x you #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

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cacoetheswriting · 2 years

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hey! if you're taking requests, would you consider writing something for eddie munson? something with a little mutual pining??

*comes out of hiding, writes an eddie fic, disappears again*

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.7k summary: during a heat wave, you find yourself at eddie's trailer. turns out the two of you aren't as over one another as it would seem. warnings: (+18 MINORS DNI): mature themes, adult language, drug use / mentions of drug use, sexual tension & implied smut, use of pet names (princess), allusions to battling addiction, parental issues (deadbeat dad), a little angst, a little fluff - unedited - pls let me know if i missed anything!

The summer season this year was a lot hotter compared to last.

Starting as soon as mid-May, it brought with it harsh humidity, sweltering sun, and a drought comparable to the 1936 North American heat wave. It was the sort of hot weather that could quite possibly boil the blood of those who did not or could not find a way to cool down. And the news reported it was unfortunately only supposed to get worse.

You, like pretty much everyone in Hawkins, found the heat unbearable.

A week ago you sat in your room with the blinds closed, but sadly now that wasn’t an option because the air conditioning at your house broke and your dad was too conked out on the sofa to even look at it. Normally you would call someone to fix it instead and that is what you wanted to do this morning, however when you reached into your wallet you were greeted with a big fat nothing.

Actually, no. There was a note.

‘Add it to my tab. Love, dad.’ — Well, that explained where he got the money to get himself in the state he was in.

At that point in the afternoon, anywhere you could have remotely hidden from the sun was unattainable, especially and most regrettably the community pool which was overcrowded with stupid little kids. That is why you ended up where you did. Definitely not where you wanted to be, but in your own defence you were on the verge of a heat stroke and not thinking clearly.

With your index finger bent ever so slightly, you knocked three times on the trailer door.

You could hear a slight commotion inside, from abrupt coughing to shuffling footsteps and random clanking. When the door swung open, you caught a whiff of the reason why.

“y/n—” Eddie choked out, clearly surprised to see it was you standing on his doorstep. Surprised yet oh so very relieved.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” Eddie stepped to the side, allowing you to squeeze past. His gaze stuck to your frame, following you around his living room until you reached the rattling A/C unit at the window.

“I- eh, I’m sorry about the smell,” he uttered, running a hand through his hair, “I-I wasn’t expecting company.”

You hummed in response. Or perhaps you said it was okay. Eddie couldn’t really tell since his mind was working a little slower than usual (due to the activity he was partaking in not even a minute ago).

Although, he was alert enough to note how your whole body gradually relaxed as the somewhat fresh air blew against your skin. All of a sudden, and only for a split second, you looked incredibly at peace.

Eddie bit on the inside of his cheek, fighting back a smile. “You okay there, princess?”

Wait. Princess? Princess… What the fuck? He shut his eyes momentarily and clenched his jaw, hating his big mouth for letting the word slip. Like, yeah, he still thought about you sometimes, but it’s not what he called you anymore. It wasn’t his nickname to use anymore.

“Mhmm, better now,” you mumbled, seemingly unfazed by the moniker (you could argue the heat messed with your receptiveness), before shifting in your spot to look at the curly haired teen. “So much better.”

With the A/C now behind you, there was a slow gust of wind blowing through your top. The nickname debacle running through Eddie’s mind faded as quickly as it occured. Fuck— princess. How in the hall was he going to concentrate now?

“Good, goodie, good.” He bopped his head and licked his lips.

Oh sweet lord. He was doomed.

“Sooo… to what do I owe the pleasure?” Eddie inquired, plopping down on the couch.

You couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt raised in the process, revealing his lower abdomen. It was your turn to crumble. God he was always so fucking hot. With his impeccable facial structure, perfect smile, big doey eyes that literally made you melt, long fingers, soft touch—

You cleared your throat, eyes lingering a little too long on his exposed stomach.

He noticed. He liked it. Fuck. Not surprisingly Eddie always liked that kind of attention from you, and he secretly thought it was a real shame he was no longer on the receiving end of it. Not as often as he used to be anyway.

“The air con at my place broke overnight and, well, I don’t know, I just couldn’t think of anywhere else to go,” you admitted, meeting his big curious eyes.

He extended an arm to gesture around the trailer.

“Mi casa es su casa.”

You smiled at him. “Thanks, Munson.”

Anytime… princess, he thought. Or wait, did he say that out loud? Lord. He needed to get a grip. There was nothing there, with you, not anymore.

Honestly, the situation between the two of you was odd to say the least.

Simply put, the curly haired teen used to be your dealer. Well, actually, your dad’s dealer. You did the grunt work while your old man reaped the benefits. It was a strange arrangement, even for Eddie’s standards, but you clearly had your reasons and he wasn’t one to pry. You appreciated that about him. He kept his nose out of other people’s business. These days in Hawkins, it was hard to come by folks that stuck to their own shit.

You actually ended up appreciating a lot of things about Eddie. And the feeling was definitely mutual.

The secret meet ups in the woods or at his trailer blossomed into a friendship, then into something more, and then into complete shit. Moral of the story, never do your dad’s dealer - that’s what you would say. Eddie, on the other hand, has very little regrets. The only one being letting you move on so easily.

You ran a hand across your forehead, wiping away any reminiscent of sweat. Bopping your head back slightly, lips ajar, the cool air from the A/C doing wonders for your sticky skin.

Eddie watched you attentively. With every passing second he felt less aware of his surroundings, completely losing himself in you as his mind now raced with thoughts, (memories), too filthy to say aloud.

Once upon a time he would have been able to leap across the room and plaster his lips against yourss then lick the trickling sweat down your neck, down, down, down, as your fingers tangled themselves amongst his curls, tugging lightly when his tounge reached— Fuck, he wanted to scream.

“Can I ask you something?”

Yes, yes, thank you. Eddie straightened his form on the sofa, trying to look as normal as possible, right arm landing across the cushions.

“Anything, princess.”

Princess.

“Did you sell stuff to my dad recently?”

The question caught him off guard. Shit, maybe silence was better.

He cleared his throat. “Uhm, not since you asked me not to.”

“Oh,” you hastily exhaled a sigh of relief.

There was a brief moment of silence during which you moved away from the window and glided across the room to sit next to him. Sinking into the spot, your head unintentionally rested against Eddie’s arm. The sudden contact caused his heart to skip a beat, but he couldn’t think about that right now.

“Is he—” Eddie began but you knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Yeah,” you cut off and looked up at him, “hence the broken unit at my place.”

His brown locks bounced lightly as he nodded, a little slower than intended because the scent of whatever perfume you had put on that morning just hit him. Combined with the heat (and also the drugs), well, full transparency, it took all the power he had not to lean across and kiss you.

Bad timing, bad timing, bad timing.

“You know, I-I could take a look at it for you,” Eddie offered, trying to literally think about anything different to how close you currently were, “if you’d like?”

“No way,” you protested, “You’re in no state right now. Plus I’d have no way to pay you for your troubles since dad took the cash out of my wallet.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I am in tip top shape,” Eddie defended and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“Munson, you are one joint away from—”

He lifted his left hand, almost pressing a finger to your lips. “Unless you’re about to say - Munson, you are one joing away from a killer nap - I don’t want to hear it.”

You laughed while rolling your eyes. “That only proves my point.”

He pressed his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “Cheeky one, aren’t ya? I invite you into my home, let you use my air conditioning, and in return you just poke fun at me. I’ll be honest, princess, that’s a little rude.”

With that, he hopped up onto his feet and stumbled towards the fridge. You sat up a little wanting to make a snarky comment in response, but as you watched him manoeuvre around the small open kitchen, no words came to mind.

You watched as he reached for two glasses and inspected them under the minimal natural light to determine whether they were clean enough to drink from. Watched as he swayed on his heel, turning towards the fridge. Watched as he leaned slightly on the door of the appliance, head inside the cool interior, rummaging for something to drink.

A smile circled your lips. There was no denying that Eddie had this calming aura about him. Everything he did, even the smallest and most menial tasks, were soothing your soul. Once upon a time you would have thought this was love.

“Eddie?”

(God. The way his name fell from your lips was heavenly.)

“Yes, princess?”

Fuck sake. He really needed to put an end to that shit.

“Why did you stop selling to my dad?”

His head popped up at the question, attention once again landing on you. “I already told you. You asked me not to.”

You lifted your legs off the floor and onto the couch, bringing your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. “Right, but, well, I guess what I want to know is why did you listen? Like, we weren’t anything at that point and I would’ve thought business is business, or whatnot.”

Eddie swallowed his breath. Partially because of where this conversation was heading, however primarily because you pretty much just flashed him. Holy shit. Unintentionally, obviously, but he saw your panties clear as day. Dark green. Lacy. New. Hot.

Nope. No. Fuck. Fuck.

What was going on with him? Navigating his thoughts this whole afternoon was considerably harder than one of his D&D quests. He could have sworn he was over you, and then you waltzed in here with your short skirt and sweet voice, he was hooked yet again.

Well, one could argue that for a blissful moment Eddie forgot the circumstances of your relationship, hence the trouble in differentiating in how he should and shouldn’t act around you right now. Because you weren’t really exes, you have to officially call yourselves something while you’re seeing each other to classify as an ‘ex’. You weren’t really friends, not anymore. Maybe just acquaintances or two individuals with a past.

God, he was an idiot. The two of you had so much potential. Why did he ever let it get to this point?

“I mean you don’t have to tell me,” you babbled, breaking him away from his thoughts.

Eddie straightened his form and closed the fridge, a chilled bottle of Coca Cola in his hand. He proceeded to then split the contents between the two glasses before making his way back towards the couch. He gave you one glass, making sure to alter his fingers when you reached over to ensure there was no accidental touch (because he simply wouldn’t be able to handle that right now).

He once again made himself comfortable beside you and took a big gulp of the drink, smacking his lips in the process.

Eventually, he looked at you again. “The truth?”

You nodded an unspoken ‘please’ and Eddie clicked his tongue in response before nodding slowly.

“The day you asked me, you just looked really defeated, you know?”, he began, “Tired and upset. I’ve never seen you like that before so I figured it must’ve been important that you asked and that I listened.”

He shrugged before continuing. “Couple days later your dad came to the trailer, he was definitely on something, and kinda seemed like he hadn’t slept in days, so I told him supply was low and he never came around again.”

Pause.

“I-I just pictured your face from when we last spoke and it hurt, you know?”

At that point, the two of you were clinging onto your drinks and staring blankly ahead. He wondered if he perhaps said too much and you wondered whether he would’ve been as honest if he wasn’t high.

Mostly however, mostly you were glad Eddie still gave you reasons to appreciate him more.

“He’s on probation,” you stated eventually, “That’s why I always got the drugs for him. If he got caught… I know he’s no exemplary father figure but he’s still my dad, and he can’t be my dad if he’s rotting in jail.”

Eddie glanced at you. “I didn’t know.”

“Not exactly something I advertise,” you pointed out and took a sip of your drink. Swallowing the fizzy gulp, you shrugged. “Sure, life is shit, and then you die.”

Eddie couldn’t help but laugh. One of those loud, genuine, and hearty chuckles. He didn’t mean for it to happen, truly, and again he blamed the devout friend still actively seeping through his system.

‘Life is shit, and then you die’, he swore that quote was going to be his next tattoo. Might even ask you to design it. He figured you’d like that. Brand him as your own. That’s all he ever wanted to be. Yours.

He thought he could only hope there was still a chance, but judging by how a smile broke your features as he laughed, and any tension you were feeling about the conversation you were having melted away, he had nothing to worry about. It was in your eyes, in the way your whole face changed from concern to joy. You wanted to be his too.

SImply a matter of time for forgiveness to kick in.

“You know,” Eddie began as the laughter died down, “I’m glad your A/C broke.”

On instinct, you smacked his arm. “Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, princess!” Eddie exclaimed. “You’re seriously not even a little bit glad you ended up here today?!”

You shook your head dramatically and teased, “You’ll never hear those words from me, Munson.”

He scoffed and waved his arm, pointing to the door. “Then off you go, please, go back to your stuffy home while I enjoy a killer nap in my cool and cosy bed.”

Not wanting to be the first to break during this little charade, you handed him the half-drank Coca Cola glass and stood up. Your skirt capered with every step, Eddie’s eyes burning into the back of your legs. Was he really about to let you walk out of here?

“Always a pleasure, Eds.”

(The answer was no).

“Wait, wait, wait.” He hastily placed the glasses on the floor, almost causing a massive spillage, and hurried towards you.

“You don’t gotta say anything,” he chimed, stopping right in front of you, “In fact, my bed, as you already know or at least hopefully remember, is big enough for the two of us—”

The air suddenly felt tighter, as if the unit at the window suddenly stopped working, even though you could still very much hear it rattling.

“— And I am known to make exceptions,” Eddie noted before leaning in a tad bit closer with a sudden boost of confidence, “for the right people.”

For a split second, his gaze shifted to your lips and everything faded into the background. The sound of your heart thumping overpowered the surroundings and all you could think was how if he kissed you right now, you wouldn’t even be mad.

Instead his fingers grazed briefly against yours.

“Let’s go take a killer nap, princess.”

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction

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tinyreviews · 20 days

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Tiny Review: Kung Fu Panda 4. Wholesome passing of the staff.

I went into this with very low expectations. The franchise has been quite lacklustre. The previous movie barely had any story.

But this one, like its theme, brings change. It’s commendable that they are transitioning the franchise past Po and into a new generation.

I love Po’s slow acceptance of passing on the staff. And look forward to Zhen’s heroic growth arc, in the next one.

Edit: OMG, I realized this so late... Po's awkward transition into bad jokes is a reflection of him slowly becoming a father-figure(dad jokes)!

Hmm, I can’t help but think of the MCU’s transition as well. I think this succeeds where Marvel failed, because Zhen is a wholly different personality than Po.

Whereas in the MCU, the successors were mostly gender/race-bended bland copies of the originals.

Kung Fu Panda 4 is a 2024 American animated martial arts comedy film produced by DreamWorks Animation. It features Jack Black, Dustin Hoffman, James Hong, Bryan Cranston, and Ian McShane, with Awkwafina, Ke Huy Quan, Ronny Chieng, Lori Tan Chinn, and Viola Davis.

#kung fu panda #kung fu panda 4 #kfp 4 #zhen the fox #zhen #jack black #awkwafina #ke huy quan #ronny chieng #lori tan chinn #viola davis #dustin hoffman #james hong #ian mcshane #animated movies #martial arts movies #comedy movies #movie review #2024 movies

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marisoft-paint-adventures · 1 year

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Pgs. 70-84

There is also a CAN OF PEANUTS on the desk. Ha ha, oh DAD. You won't be falling for THAT one again any time soon. A severe peanut allergy is a terrible affliction to cope with.

most important Egbert fact, commit this to memory now.

OH SHIT IT’S “PLAY A HAUNTING PIANO REFRAIN”-

youtube

listening to Showtime is like a ritualistic tradition to me, man oh fucking man does it still hit to this day. there is no greater joy that popping open this comic again and hearing these notes once more. I would call this The Homestuck Song but there’s a million of equally iconic tracks and some of them are literally called the main theme of Homestuck so I’ll just say that this is The Act 1 Song.

yes I’m considering it over Suburban Countdown, it’s a good song but this just fucking encompasses everything.

little boy John really just sat down while hunting for Sburb just to go:

also the Jonkler is here and I have no idea why but it amuses me.

now I just gotta let the next Flash play out wholesale, it needs this.

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The streets are empty. Wind skims the voids keeping neighbors apart, as if grazing the hollow of a cut reed, or say, a plundered mailbox. A familiar note is produced. It's the one Desolation plays to keep its instrument in tune. It is your thirteenth birthday, and as with all twelve preceding it, something feels missing from your life. The game presently eluding you is only the latest sleight of hand in the repertoire of an unseen riddler, one to engender a sense not of mirth, but of lack. His coarse schemes are those less of a prankster than a common pickpocket. His riddle is Absence itself. It is a mystery dispersing altogether, like the moon's faint reflection, with even one pebble of inquiry dropped in its black well. It is the most diabolical riddle of all. "Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire." -Walt Whitman Yes, you are certain Walt Whitman said that. One hundred percent positive. You have a feeling it's going to be a long day.

this does not get old, never, in all of my years I can still sit down and listen to Windchime Foley rattle on forever. there’s something just completely alluring about this page as a whole, the sudden shift into these thoughtful prose in the narration, the droning ambience of wind, the unmelodic windchimes weakly singing, the slow pan showing the entirety of John��s neighborhood, the heavily iconographic sun, and that fucking title drop, everything here is good, I love Homestuck.

what really gets me about it nowadays is just that tiny bit of characterization you could gleam if you read way too much into it. these empty streets and houses with no life in them, the description of something feeling truly missing from John’s life, the sheer sense of hollowness in this entire town, it really makes you think about what John’s life was like before the game came in and turned everything on its head.

Rose pursues a passion for the grim and gothic while playing weird mind games with her mother, Dave lounges around a shithole apartment eating takeout and playing video games at the same all while his brother trains him to become an epic ninja through the art of mad beatdowns, Jade faffs about on an island without a care in the world.

what does John do?

the idea of an isolationist John is often spurred as a reaction and coping mechanism from the trauma of the entirety of Sburb, after experiencing essentially a sensual and emotional overload watching everything and everyone die multiple times over in a universal reproduction system. not much attention is given to the thought of these tendencies of seclusion manifesting beforehand.

because in a quiet house owned by an idealized American father figure situated in a neighborhood that feels utterly lifeless despite its colorful appearance, what does John have outside of his small group of internet friends?

it’s easy to throw this kind of thought process around for any of the kids in the comic, the writing has them acknowledge no one but themselves when it comes to close relationships, as if everyone else on Earth basically didn’t exist.

but it feels way more apparent in John’s case, because it really feels like this kid pretty much has nothing interesting going on in his life until the launch of Sburb.

a lot of this can be attributed to John simply being more of a blank slate considering he’s the protagonist, but it’s just a thought.

oh and after this introspection someone commands John to shit in the mailbox and it’s punctuated with a gif that I swear is animated like a modern day Vine boom shitpost.

never change, Homestuck.

#homestuck liveblog #hs liveblog #hs reread #liveblog #reread #live read #liveread #homestuck #hs1 #hs #home22tuck #Act 1 #Flash #john egbert #june egbert #Beta Kids

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breezybeej · 1 year

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Here's some random movie recommendations for you accursed beafts:

Ginger Snaps (2000): if you liked Jennifer's Body, you'll probably like this. It has a lot of the same themes but with a more sisterly bonding bend. Personally I liked it more than JB.

Being John Malkovich (1999): Okay so you want to talk about Ego Death? You want to meditate on identity? This movie assaults you with so much absurdity that the overarching message is the only thing that makes sense.

La Llorona (2019) ((NOT the Curse of La Llorona, we are talking about the Guatemalan film)): This movie is very slow, still, and steady. There are no jump scares, really. The film is a long slow build up of dread but in like a positive way? It's a horror movie about women and the power structures men put them into.

Smoke Signals (1998): You ever have complicated feelings about your dad, lol? Watch this. Bonus points for being a film made by indigenous americans

Sound of Metal (2020): Man loses a connection to something he built his life around so it all starts crumbling. You'll cry.

Perfect Blue (1997, yes the anime movie): I know, Satoshi Kon yadda yadda it's already a well known movie. This psych thriller anime is yet another meditation on identity and how we try to change ourselves to please others or change others to please ourselves.

Microcosmos (1996): This is the single best insect documentary I have ever seen. There is no narration after the first minute, you real close macro footage of bugs. Even without words, you can watch their world unfold before you and it just Makes sense.

Samsara (2011): In the same vein as microcosmos, this doc is a wordless meditation on humanity. You'll see all kinds of fascinating cultural events unfold before you. It really makes you feel connected to other humans.

Warsha (2022): This one's a short film. There is something about finding bliss even in the face of oppression

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979): The poster is literally the pride flag. The pride flag which came out one year before thin movie did. But really, this movie is VERY slow. Which is to its benefit. They really let you sit and think about what is happening in front of you. I don't know, the performances in this film are immaculate. It gets a lot of hate for how slow it is but if you let the movie take over, it WILL fill you with the intended sense of simultaneous fear of the unknown and curiosity about that unknown. Trepidation? Also it's a very good love story about two parallel romances.

Pig (2021): Nicholas Cage in a slow burner about the past and how we try to run from it. About how we can never escape it either. How to we cope with that? Maybe Nic can show us.

#movies #la llorona #ginger Snaps #being John Malkovich #smoke Signals #sound of Metal #perfect Blue #microcosmos #samsara #star trek the motion picture #warsha #pig

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zaenight · 8 months

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His girl ch8

TW: SMUTTY THEMES

Gabriella let out a groan as José nipped at her neck , The events from yesterday still heavy on theirs minds , Lou quit , he actually quit.

"What are you thinking about?" José questioned as Gabriella's hand traced his bare chest , before fiddling with his saint sebestion medal.

"Im thinking we're gonna be late." She said as he traced her jawline.

"Your right we should go before your dad throws a fit." José said as She kissed his jawline.

"I think they'll last without us for five more minutes." She said straddling his lap , as he leaned up on his elbows , eye brow raised.

"Your right we should make it ten , JOSÉ!" Gabriella said with a laugh and small sqeak as the teen rolled them over slightly grinding on her.

"Yeah I could do that ." He said trailing kisses down her neck.

Let's just say the two horney Eighteen year olds ended up going for more than just ten minutes.

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" I know You boys Suffered a Loss , Lou was a part of this place like those Concrete walls, yeah , but Baseball is a door to the world of men And I'll expect you to act like men." Burt austin said to them as the folded towells and clothing.

Gabriella raised a small brow

as she glanced at the old man , this is who's replacing Lou , not to bad , but doesn't mean she has to like it.

"What's your name, Son?" Burt asked José.

"José , Im head bat boy." He said to the man as he folded towells , glancing towards Gabriella.

"Certainly are , look like a player." Burt said to him.

"That's right , Made all American, Going out for the amateur draft. " José said , Burt noticed the glances that José was stealing with the shorter boy , who was more feminine than the other two boys.

Although he didn't question it as he spoke up.

"I know all the minor league scouts , maybe I could put a word in,Let's talk later." Burt said to the boy , who glanced at him before mouthing somthing to Gabriella.

"What about you?" The man said to Her, or well him.

"Luca Tavares , you might know my father , im just here for extra credit , and im very , very good friends with Marquez here." "Luca" said clapping José on the shoulder with a smirk.

"Yeah right." Pete quietly scoffed , stopping as he felt the girl glare at him.

"Extra credit is good,And how about you?" Burt said then turned to brad asking him.

"My name's brad I'm not a player in case there's any confusion." Brad said , pointing out that he was bigger than the others.

"Why are you here?" Burt questioned curious.

"I'm grooming myself for management putting in what I learned to use for my fantasy baseball team." Brad explained.

"I'll be interested to see who you drafted , Maybe We could trade rosters later." Burt said.

"And what's your name son?" Burt said to Pete.

"Pete." the boy said .

"Why are you here?" Burt questioned.

"Cause Lou hired me."Pete stated as As Gabriella glanced at José.

"What do you expect You'll Get out of this experience." Burt asked , Gabriella could feel the tension , hell she could see it in the younger boy's eyes.

As Pete Spoke Gabriella was trying to grab a towell from José who had it Lifted up so she couldn't reach it,until she kneed him , he groaned quietly , but once burt spoke they straigtend up.

"Well, I'll try to make it a positive experience for you, You got the best job in New York , If every kid America could be a bat boy , America would be a better place , White towels, guys , I can't get over it." Burt said as Gabriella snorted , hiding it with a cough.

"Alright we all know what we're supposed to do right?" Pete said as Gabriella tilted her head , did she miss a meeting or somthing.

"Yo slow down , I was on board alright , I mean this man knows scouts." José said as Gabriella nodded.

"I miss Lou , but this guy doesn't seem to bad." She said to the three boys.

"Luca's right , he doesn't seem like such a bad guy." Brad said as the girl raised a brow.

"Brad, you Wanna run the empire's right , And You , You wanna play for them , With Luca cheering you on , Well Lou's the one that got you inside , Now we owe him." Pete said as Gabriella scrunched her nose before turning to José.

"Me siento raro diciendo esto pero el chico Petey tiene razón." She said as She Looked at José.

(I feel weird saying this but Petey boy is right)

José sighed and nodded his head , before holding his arm out.

"For Lou." He continued as Gabriella and the boys joined in.

"Tomorrow we show everyone what Lou means to this franchise." Pete stated as The other three nodded.

Setting their plan in motion.

-----------

"Papá por última vez José y yo estamos en las jaulas de bateo, llegaremos pronto, ¡no te comas toda la pasta!" Gabriella said into the Phone as José kissed her neck.

(Pops for the last time Me and José are at the batting cages , we'll be there soon , don't eat all the pasta!)

All José could hear was grumbling , and somthing that sounded like "I don't hear the machine." and random blubbering.

"Ok , Ok we'll be there Pops!" Gabriella said , saying I love you before hanging up.

"Pasta sounds good ." José said as Gabriella ran fingers through his hair , making him groan softly against her neck.

"Yes which is why we're going , because we're not gonna be questioned on why we're la- You left a hickey , José! , te voy a asesinar!" She groaned as she felt his smirk.

"You love me to much mi vida , besides Carlos will probably beat you to it , we should probably-" José was cut off as He was kissed before being dragged off by Gabriella , off to go eat dinner the two went , because tomorrow was the day , they would find a way to get Lou back his job.

#fanfic #wattpad #original character #jd pardo #j.d pardo #ez reyes #mayans #hayden romero #victoria moroles #peteyoung #jeremy sumpter #josémarquez #josemarquez #clubhouse2004 #clubhouse

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kelyon · 1 year

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Live Wire 2: Moving In

Bailey Gold gets dragged across state lines to live in some creepy old mansion.

Reference photos for the house

Read on AO3

Bailey Gold slumped against the window of the passenger’s side of his dad’s car. He held a potted plant on his lap and a fish tank between his feet. Some things were too fragile to let the movers take in their van.

The drive from Boston to Maine was hot and long and stupid. Most of the conversation was about the new town they were moving into, Storybrooke.

“So you’re telling me this place doesn’t have a movie theater?”

Papa kept his eyes on the road. “There’s one the next town over.”

He rolled his eyes and thwumped back into the seat. “You’d have to drive me there. Every time. You’d probably sit in the car in the parking lot and read for two hours.”

“Sounds like a treat to me. Or we could go to the movies together.”

“Yeah, but you don’t like movies.”

“I like movies,” Papa protested. “What I don’t like are feature-length theme park rides.”

Bae blew out a stream of air. In Boston, the nearest multiplex was only two bus stops away from their apartment. He could go by himself and meet his friends there. They could watch movies and eat junk food and he never had to care if it met the ‘artistic merits’ his father cared so much about.

He tried another tactic. “Are there any museums there?”

For as long as he could remember, they’d had memberships to every art, science, and history museum in town. He’d been crazy for dinosaurs when he was a kid. Even now that he was older, the museums were still interesting. At least, they were something to do. And there was no question that they met Papa’s approval.

“I’m sure there’s something about local history.”

“Local history? Papa, we’re leaving behind the entire history of the American Revolution!”

His father only snorted. “There’s more to the world than America.”

He fell back against the headrest. “Then why didn’t we move to Scotland? It’s gotta be better than Maine.”

“I don’t think your mother would appreciate me taking you out of the county.”

“Whatever. She doesn’t care.”

Papa slowed down a little. He took one hand off the steering wheel to put it on Bae’s shoulder. “Hey, listen. Your mother is a complicated woman, but she does love you. It was brave of her to admit that she can’t take care of you the way you deserve. She will want to see you again, and when she does, it will be easier if you’re close.”

Bae didn’t say anything. He looked out the window, watched the forest pass by. It didn’t make sense that Papa had more faith in his mother than he did. Wasn’t divorcing someone supposed to mean you hated that person? But Papa never seemed to hate Mom, even when she was at her worst. He was just sad for her. It was the same thing whenever Bae messed up--he said he wasn’t mad, just disappointed.

Bae was mad. Your mother is supposed to care about you. Your mother is supposed to put you first. At the very least, a kid should be in the top three on a mom’s list of priorities. From a young age, Bae had figured out that his mother’s first three concerns were always sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

He shook his head, got back to the subject of why Papa shouldn’t move him to some stupid little town in the middle of nowhere.

“Does this place even have a library?”

“That it does,” Papa grinned. “Practically right next door to where I’m going to have my shop. You can go there whenever you like.”

Bae sighed. It probably wouldn’t have any of the events and clubs the Boston Public Library did. But at least it was something. That was all he wanted: Something interesting to happen in this new place.

****

Why was it pink?

He was still in the car. At fourteen, Bae hadn’t been taught how to drive, or how to hotwire a car, but he was pretty sure he could figure out both skills on the fly. All he had to do was slide over into the driver’s seat, fiddle with some wires, and press the gas pedal--whichever one that was. He could be on the road back to Boston and Papa would never be able to run after him.

Nah, he’d get pulled over. Or he’d need to stop for gas and he didn’t have any money. There weren’t any gas stations that would accept a potted poinsettia or a tank full of female betta fish as payment, and that was all Bae had on him right now.

So he opened the car door and stepped out, holding the plant in both hands. Papa was standing in front of the yard, looking up at the house. When Bae stood beside him, he saw that he was smiling.

Seeing how happy his father was to be here made Bae feel bad for hating moving so much. He still wanted to go home, but he was ready to admit that wasn’t going to happen. One way or another, this was their home now.

“So, pink, huh?”

Papa chuckled. “They liked their colors in the Victorian era. I did check to make sure the walls weren’t papered in arsenic green.”

He walked to the porch, so happy he barely needed his cane. Bae followed.

“Arsenic? Isn’t that poison?”

“It certainly is.” Papa pulled out the key to the front door. “And also a very vibrant dye. But don’t worry, son. Everything is safe in there.”

While his father fiddled with the lock, Bae looked around the outside. He tried to think of something good to say about this new place. “We’ve never had a yard before.”

“There’s a patio in the back, too,” Papa said. “I was thinking of putting in a fire pit.”

He nodded slowly. Their apartment in the city had been great, but there weren’t a lot of options for outdoor stuff. Papa had tried to “enrich” Bae’s summers with camping trips that had always ended in one disaster or another. Maybe a yard and a fire pit was a better place to start.

With a heavy sigh, Bae followed his father into the house.

“Count yourself lucky,” Papa said. “It used to be pink on the inside too.”

Bae wrinkled his nose as he looked around the main entrance. “And now it’s gray and white.”

“Gypsum and Homburg. It took me a long time to decide on those paint colors.”

It looked… clean, Bae guessed. The movers would be coming later with the furniture and most of the boxes, so right now the whole house was empty. It felt empty. Their voices echoed as they spoke. Outside it was getting hot, but the house made Bae shiver. It was all really weird.

“I bet somebody died in here,” he said.

Papa just chuckled. “Maybe you were right about moving to Scotland. Back there, it’s when someone hasn’t died in a house that you know something’s wrong with it.”

“No, I mean… doesn’t it feel creepy to you?”

“No,” Papa said. He ran his hands over the polished wood around the door and the staircase and the fireplace inside the entryway. Bae could see how much he was trying not to smile. “This place feels exciting, son. It’s a blank canvas, it can become anything.”

Bae let out a whoosh of air and tried to see the house the way Papa saw it.

“The stained glass around the door is pretty,” he offered.

“There’s more on the stair landing, do you see that?” Papa turned Bae’s body to look. “And there’s a window in that little nook here.”

“Oh that’s cool,” he admitted. “I didn’t know we had nooks.”

“Might even be a cranny around here somewhere.” Papa looked at his watch. “The movers will be here soon. Why don’t you look around upstairs while I handle things down here? Go say hello to the house.”

Bae snorted. “What?”

“Like in that movie you used to watch. The Japanese cartoon? About the two little girls who moved into a new house.”

“My Neighbor Totoro? That’s a kid’s movie.”

“I liked it.”

Bae rolled his eyes but started to go upstairs anyway. “I’m gonna go find a sunny window for the plant,” he said. “Then a shady spot where I can put my fish tank. I do not need to say hello to a house.”

Papa just shrugged. “Well, don’t blame me if the soot spirits decide they don’t like you because you were rude to them.”

He shook his head and went to the second floor. Soot spirits! Did Papa think he was still a kid? There weren’t any spirits in this house.

****

Bae’s bedroom was on the third floor. He picked it out because he wanted a balcony. Papa had let him because the balcony was so high up there was no way he could climb down to sneak out of the house. Not that Bae would do something like that. In Storybrooke, where was there to go?

He put his poinsettia on the balcony, and his fish on a shelf in a nook by the balcony door. When he plugged in the tank, the filter gurgled to life and started working right away.

“Awesome,” he said to himself. He meant it, too. That filter didn’t always work the first time, or at least it hadn’t in Boston. He’d thought he would have to get Papa to buy him a new one, but now maybe he wouldn’t.

With his two most important possessions taken care of, Bae decided to help move in everything else. The charger for his phone was in one of the suitcases he’d packed into the car. He should find that before the battery ran out. His laptop, too, he should get that out of the heat as soon as he could.

He took the narrow back staircase that led down into the kitchen. The movers were using the main stairs, now he could stay out of their way. This would also be a great way to sneak past Papa for late-night snacks.

Maybe this house wasn’t so bad after all.

#live wire

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countyourcasualty · 1 year

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RP Search

Hello, 31/m, AST here. Looking to add one or two more ONE ON ONE RPs featuring Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier! I have almost no content limits whatsoever. It honestly depends on the dynamics between our individual characters, but I can play Erik anywhere from very dominant to service-oriented submissive. So if your Charles is more one or the other, I can work with that. I play a few different versions of Erik: two are modern and one is from the 1950s. All are in their late 20s to early 30s. I enjoy having lots of plot and lots of smut, probably a 50/50 split if I'm being honest (writing it out every time will probably get boring but y'know what I mean - the option is nice! But slow burn is fantastic so we can go 100% plot for a while if that's your jam.)

Basically, take a look at some of the plot ideas and versions and pick whichever one you think you'll jive most with! I'm obviously a huge fan of military themes, war, the CIA, international/diplomatic shit, foreign language, college AU, la la la. We could also mix it up with some Sentinel/Guide bullshit, because I'm a fucking sap for soulmates AUs (kill me now). My Discord is Weemie#2844 ! More information under the cut.

Erik ONE played by Ishai Golan

Erik 1 is Israeli and a former medic in the IDF who tried to conscientiously object but ended up being threatened with jailtime - which he could not afford due to caring for his ailing mother and baby sister. He was in Beirut helping both his own side and the enemy and managed to endure his experiences (which he morally objected to at the time) without firing his service weapon once. (This is a modern, vaguely 80s-90s setting.) He then immigrated to America and studied social work, and is now a CPS worker. E1 is rude, brash, and gregarious. You ever see that episode of Conan where he asks the Israeli guy "how do you say excuse me?" and he's just like "you don't! ELBOWS OUT MOTHERFUCKER!" That's this guy. He listens to hardstyle on the walk-man and wears Hawaiian T-shirts. He can meet Charles through his work somehow (if Charles runs his school, perhaps he meets Erik on the job at one of his students' homes and enlists his help). Maybe he seeks Charles out because one of his clients has a mutation and he doesn't know what to do - Charles being a mutant psychologist could be the catalyst there.

Erik TWO played by Adam Brody

Erik 2 is American from Midwood, New York City and an OEF veteran ex-68W, and MIT graduate. He can either have Pietro and Wanda or not (poor Magda gets Fridged, RIP) this version of him features his family heavily (his mother was also a mutant and a time traveler) and is set in the late 2010s. E2 is friendly, charming and talkative. He's the diplomat and the leader, knows several languages, and is a genuine, certified genius. He's the domestic fluff guy, always ready with a joke and a can-do attitude. He's a Conservative Jew, keeps kosher and goes to his dad's house every Saturday for Shabbat. They keep asking him when he's going to Bring A Nice Young Man Home. It's a whole thing. This one requires a bit of finagling but my idea is that Charles is Erik's VA-appointed caseworker and/or therapist (he was "The Good Shepherd" in at least a few incarnations so it's not super out of place). We could also potentially switch it up and have him attend MIT after returning from the Army, and he meets Charles there (either as a fellow student or professor). The CIA are also going to be involved in this, as they have been tracking Erik since he was a child. AS OF the beginning of our RP, this version of Erik believes he is a BASELINE HUMAN. When really, he is actually an Omega-level mutant with the ability to manipulate subatomic particles.

Erik THREE played by Michael Aloni

Erik 3 is Polish and was a sonderkommando at Auschwitz as a teenager. He survived years in this role due to Klaus Schmidt taking a "special interest" in him and only manifested his mutation after liberation. This one is my "darkest" version of Erik, but he is not an asshole or a genocidal insane person. I play him extremely realistically, tactfully, with the knowledge and study of years of history and personal experiences. His faith is important to him. E3 is gentle, curious and compassionate. A more somber personality, this version of Erik is genuinely kind, values life in all of its forms, and speaks softly but with great wisdom. A nurturing soul, he is a lay leader at his synagogue, teaching Torah to some of the younger children. Whip-smart and dry-humored as hell, but it takes time to really see it, since his command of English isn't the greatest. He's either a construction worker in Haifa (Charles would be volunteering there as well), working in International Tracing Service with ICRC in Eilat (these are the people who try and reunite families and track down records torn apart by the war), or a recent immigrant to the United States where he is attending university at MIT (Charles can again either be a professor or a student, or someone adjacent to the university).

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dougielombax · 1 year

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Alright.

Behold my anti-sex music playlist!

For music that just won’t work when you’re planning on doing it.

Not saying any of these songs are bad. Just that they won’t be good for sex.

In my mind…

Here they are:

1. Chumbawumba - Tubthumping.

2. Blarf - Banana

3. Eric Andre & the Last Seed - Beef Patty

4. Midge Ure - The Man Who Sold the World (OH NO. NOT ME)

5. The Serbian National Anthem! (Bože pravde) - by I Don’t Fucking Know. (Yes I’m serious)

6.Geometry Dash theme tune

7. My Country ‘Tis of Thee (Boston Pops version)

8. Peaches - Fuck the Pain Away

9. That FUCKING Pina Colada song!

10. Aerosmith - I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing

11. Otis Redding - Shake

12. The Trashmen - Surfin’ Bird

13. Liberty Bell March - John Philip Sousa

14. That weird boingy Delaware version of the Dr Who theme what was only used once in the Australian broadcast of Carnival of Monsters.

15. Swans - She Loves Us

16. The Platters - My Prayer (for any David Lynch fans, if you know, YOU KNOW!)

17. Grieg - In the Hall of the Mountajn King (it HAS to be the Portsmouth sinfonia version)

18. Georg Friedrich Handel - Hallelujah Chorus from Messiah (also the Portsmouth Sinfonia version, ideal for maximum awkwardness)

19. 1800 Pain - Hurt

20. Weezer - Buddy Holly

21. ANYTHING by Nickelback (especially Photograph (LOOK AT THIS FUCKEN’ SHIT!) or Rockstar)

22. The Cure - Friday I’m in Love

23. Nine Inch Nails - Mr Self Destruct (only an animal could fuck to this!)

24. Hanggai - Drinking song (this is actually a fucking banger but still)

25. Jamie Christopherson - The Stains of Time (except every single lyric is AND IT WILL COME)

26. Babylon Zoo - Spaceman

27. Suede - Filmstar

28. Bonnie Tyler - Total Eclipse of the Heart (on full blast)

29. Ligeti - Lux Aeterna (may induce existential crises)

30. Korngold - Theme from King’s Row

31. AJCW - Wonderland (very loud, this is some cosmic horror shit)

32. Girl Talk - Play Your Part (Pt 1.)

33. Akira Yamaoka - Black Fairy

34. Ludvig Forssell -204863

35. Bach - Chorale BWV 645 (slow instrumental organ/trombone version)

36. Akira Yamaoka - My Heaven

37. Kikagaku Moyo - Dripping Sun (the beat drop at the end is some next level shit)

38. Carpenter Brut - Le Perv

39. Dawn of the Dead - The Gonk

40. de Wolfe music - Lubricator

41. Wizzard - I Wish it could be Christmas Every Day

42. Venetian Snares - All the Children are Dead

43. Van McCoy - Do the Hustle

44. Roy Orbison - In Dreams (look, it’s a great tune, but still).

45. Smash Mouth - Walking on the Sun

46. Mansion Basement - Resident Evil Director’s Cut Soundtrack

47. Happy Days (as in the main theme tune from Happy Days!)

48. Exhumed - As Hammer to Anvil

49. Muddy Magnolias - American Woman (David Lynch Remix) (if you fuck to this then you are legally not a human, you are a CREATURE)

50. Sonny Terry - Old Lost John

51. Hanatarash - My Dad is Car (VERY LOUD!)

52. Clubbed to Death (instrumental)

53. Jerry Manolas - Midnight Dream

54. Guided by Voices - Game of Pricks

55. Ludvig Forssell - Death Stranding theme tune

56. Glenn Miller - In the Mood

57. Venetian Snares - Winnipeg is Fucking Over

58. BJ Thomas - Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head.

59. Limp Bizkit - Break Stuff

60. Huun Huur Tu - Eerbek Aksy

61. Whitney Houston - I'm Your Baby Tonight

62. Mussorgsky - The Great Gate of Kiev

63. Low Roar - Give Up

64. Ludwig Van Beethoven - Rage Over a Lost Penny

65. Neon Indian - Slumlord’s Release

66. The Caretaker - All You are Going to want to Do is Get Back There.

67. Horace Heidt - This Time It’s Real (instrumental - slowed down)

68. BluntedBeatz - I Am

69. Eddie Vedder - Out of Sand

70. Olga Wojciechowska - Remember When the Light Came (unfortunately I can’t find it ANYWHERE!)

71. Blarf - The Me in Me

72. Chuck Person - Lightning Strikes

73. Polkas y Huapangos - Los Dos Laredos. (Pretty sure you legally CANNOT fuck to this)

74. Tom Jones - What’s New Pussycat (VERY LOUDLY)

75. Merzbow - Ultramarine Blue

76. Fool’s Garden - Lemon Tree (I NEED Wes Anderson to use this song in his next film! FIND A WAY to get him to do it!)

77. Big Brother Theme Tune

78. Fanfare Vagabontu - Batuta Din Moldova

79. Lvovsky - Now the Powers of Heaven

80. Tuvan Ensemble - Arbyn Ossun

81. Weird Al - EBay song

82. Marathon 2 main theme (I mean come ON!)

83. Electric Light Orchestra - Mr Blue Sky (SHUT UP!!!!)

84. My Chemical Romance- Famous Last Words

85. Van Halen - Panama

86. Powermad - Slaughterhouse

87. Bjork - It’s Oh so Quiet

88. Sigur Rós - Hoppípolla

89. Richard Strauss - Zueignung (specifically the version performed by Jessye Norman (RIP))

90. Apollo 100 - Joy (especially if you speed it up)

91. Carol Anne McGowan - Sycamore Trees (look it’s beautiful but you cannot fuck to it!)

92. Brian Eno - Weightless

93. Jean Sibelius - Symphony no 2.

94. Handel - Hallelujah Chorus (as performed by the Portsmouth Sinfonia)

95. The White Buffalo - I Know You (it’s a great piece of music but it’s really depressing)

96. Rednex - Cotton Eye Joe

97. Men Without Hats - The Safety Dance

98. Blink 182 - I Miss You. (WHERE ARE YEEEEEEEW)

99. Francis Stanfield - O Sacred Heart. (Yes I know it’s a Catholic hymn! That’s the point!)

100. Surasshu - The Penis (Eek!)

101. Non Phixion - The CIA is Trying to Kill Me

102. All-American Rejects - Move Along (SHUT UP! It’s a good song but come on)

103. Big Data - Bombs Over Brooklyn (their curiosity for learning has skyrocketed)

104. Adam & the Ants - Stand and Deliver

105. Animal Collective - Derek

106. Ludwig Van Beethoven. Symphony no. 5. Movement 1.

107. Hong Kong 97 Soundtrack - I Love Beijing Tiananmen.

108. Mr Bean animated series theme tune (piano, obviously).

109. John Williams - The Immolation Scene. (From the Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith soundtrack)

110. Ludwig Van Beethoven. Again. - Ode to Joy. Symphony no 9. Movement 4.

111. Vague003 - Tonight

112. Tchaikovsky - Serenade for Strings in C Major Op. 48.

113. Old Gods of Asgard - Take Control

114. Zbigniew Preisner - Lacrimosa, Day of Tears

115. AJCW - Fog Horm

#personal stuff #dougie rambles #music #playlist #feel free to reblog #anti-sex playlist #Dougie talks about music #Dougie’s playlists #playlists #music playlist #reblog this #lists #my lists #Dougie makes a list #Tonight we fuck music #or not

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bamfdaddio · 2 years

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X-Men Abridged 1984: Kitty Pryde and Wolverine

The X-Men, those rethreading mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 1 - 6) - by Chris Claremont and Allen Milgrom

What we miss here is one panel where we see Wolverine smile a secret smile at being called ‘too tall’ for anything. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 4)

Alternative titles for this miniseries could have been: Kitty Pryde Has a Bad Day; or: Kitty Pryde Makes Terrible Decisions; or even: Kill Logan. What it should have been called is Shadowcat, but I’m assuming editorial nixed that option on account of it being too unfamiliar a name.

At first, I thought this miniseries was a rehash of Magik and Wolverine. On the one hand, you’ve got the innocent girl who’s being corrupted by a dark mentor in a coming of age-drama; on the other hand, you’ve got Wolverine, Yukio and Japan. So, while Claremont obviously has some themes he likes to return to – you know, other than super-duper-powered women, airplanes and mind control – and this isn’t as fresh as it could be, by the last issue it all ends up working. It runs a little long and the beginning is a slow starter, but if you’re a fan of Kitty, go and read this. (If you’re not, just go read my excellent recap.)

After Peter dumps her, Kitty flees back home to Chicago to stay with her dad. Here, she can regroup, eat massive amounts of chocolate, go ice-skating… (The latter is not something I would do, but I guess it’s tough making an interesting comic out of someone eating cheese crackers in their bed while watching The Nanny reruns.)

Kitty decides to pay her father a visit at the bank where she works, but she discovers that he is involved in some shady dealings with some American and Japanese business men. They bought out the man’s family business, but still invite Carmen Pryde over to Japan! Sweet trip, man! And that’s when it happens:

Kitty’s bad decision #1: She stowaways (stowsaway?) on the plane to Japan.

I don’t know what is more questionable: the fact that that all Kitty brought along were her iceskates or those pink uggs-avant-la-lettre. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 1)

Kitty goes to look for a man called Shigematsu, the owner of the company Carmen is in bed with, and so:

Kitty’s bad decision #2: After finding some hints her dad’s dirty, stay the night in an empty office and wait for some random business dude to arrive. (In Japan.)

When she is inevitably discovered in the morning it becomes less of a: “what is this American girl doing on my couch” and more of a security guard immediately opening fire. (Dude!) Kitty, always a smartie, deduces that harmless companies don’t immediately start shooting at randos and thus, this company must be evil. (Well. More evil than most.)

Kitty’s bad decision #3: Attempt to steal money from an ATM but do it so badly that you trip every alarm and have the police come running.

Kitty’s bad decision #4: Escape the police through the sewers and get sick in the process.

Kitty’s bad decision #5: Spend a cold, rainy night on a porch of some sort.

Kit, you’ve got phasing powers. You should be able to steal money without triggering alarms and, when things go belly-up, you really ought to be able to find a better place to hide than out in the fucking streets. Jeez.

In case you couldn’t tell, one of my major gripes with this arc is that Kitty just makes bad decision after bad decision in order for the plot to work. This is the same girl who killed an N’Garai demon all by herself. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 1)

Despite her wooziness, Kitty returns to the office and sneaks in. However, just at the wrong moment, she overhears Shigematsu, a creepy man called Ogun and Carmen talking about all that money-laundering they have been doing! Oops!

Kitty gasps, betraying her presence, and once again, she has to run. She makes quick work of Shigematsu’s bodyguards and flees, ignoring her dad’s pleas and explanations. An intrigued Ogun, meanwhile, pulls some strings with Shigematsu: he will deal with Kitty, as long as her life is forfeited to his. Kitty, meanwhile, has remembered to use her powers properly:

While the thick, rough-lined style of Milgrom is not entirely my cup of tea, I do love the inventive way he uses paneling and perspective. If anything, at least the art in this series is superb. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 2)

Kitty, planning on going to Lady Mariko (ex of Wolverine, currently his 'it's complicated'), needs to catch her breath in the alley. And I guess this is what that string of bad decisions led to, because she’s sick, sleep deprived and confused, which makes her: an easy target. (I’m guessing? Because the whole ‘Kitty: Japan’s Most Wanted’-narrative beat doesn’t really get picked up on, so…) Anyway, Kitty is jumped by a man with a red oni-mask who knocks her unconscious with some roofie-powder.

Wolverine touches down in Tokyo and I think this might be the first instance of him triggering the metal detector gate… thingies because of his skeleton. A joke is born!

Kitty, meanwhile, gets a make-over, a haircut and a brainwashing, courtesy of Ogun. You can almost hear the dulcet tones of the shamisen.

Editor: “We’re done with telepathic mind control, Chris. None of that in this story, understood?” Claremont: “No telepathic mind control. Got it.” Editor: “Did… did you just scribble down ‘standard brainwashing’?” (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 2)

Wolverine recruits Yukio to help out Kitty’s dad, and he reveals that Ogun used to be his sensei. Ogun, on his part, reveals that what he has done to Kitty was supposed to be Logan’s fate. As poetic justice, he means for his Kitty to kill Logan. (Uh oh!)

While Yukio grabs Carmen Pryde from Shigematsu and runs away with him in tow (she can be depended upon, at least), an unfamiliar ninja gets the drop on Wolverine. A stink bomb is thrown to fool Logan's nose, and they fight. Wolverine, poisoned and weakened, does the smart thing and flees. After recovering for a bit, Wolverine gets the drop on the ninja. He sniffs her out, not believing who she is, but then he unmasks her! And then Claremont goes for his patented cliffhanger oh-no-they-might-be-dead fake-out:

STABBED THRU THE HEART AND YOU’RE TO BLAME DARLING YOU GIVE SHORT HAIR A GOOD NAME (a good name) (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 3)

Yukio, never in the mood for much finesse, promptly drugs Kitty and drags her, Logan and Carmen off to some safehouse in the mountains. There, Wolverine recovers while Kitty returns to her senses. When Wolverine tells her what happened, Kitty laughs it off and tells that’s impossible, even though she lives in a world of telepaths and countless mind-control devices.

Wolverine does the Karate Kid-thing and gives her a rake for the zen garden.

I don’t know whether to blame the artist, the illustrator or the editor, but perhaps someone should have spent a little more time conveying the idea of an actual raked zen garden? (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 4)

Logan then tells Kitty some ninja-fable which implies that Ogun is an immortal monk-dude – which, magic would explain a lot of this narrative, so we’ll give that a pass – and then tells Kitty that Ogun mentally imprinted on her. And then, he becomes sensei Logan-san and Kitty becomes Karate-Kitty. They get a full-on training montage (bring your own pan flute), while Kitty realizes the difference between Ogun and Wolverine. Wolverine might be a grueling task master, but he always gives her the option to quit, whereas Ogun just took what he wanted. Ogun’s path was easier, but Logan’s path offers her true mastery. And then, after a comic book montage…

What’s the Japanese equivalent of an eagle cry? Insert that here. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 4)

Now that Kitty has completed the challenge Wolverine issued in the first picture of this recap (aaaall the way up there), she decides she’s done. We get another Claremontian cliffhanger fake-out because it seems Kitty is returning to New York! Giving up on this! But, she is, in fact, going back to Tokyo to threaten Shigedematsu for daring to involve her dad in this sticky wicket!

On the train there, she has a moment of deep, deep reflection:

Still not sure if Kitty meant to draw Wolverine of Catwoman. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 5)

It’s funny how both Kitty and Jean have a tenuous relationship to their codenames. Both of them hardly get theirs in adaptations. My boyfriend, who only watches X-Men stuff on the screen, was shocked when he figured out that Jean Grey is officially called Marvel Girl and not, you know, Phoenix! And I think Kitty only gets the Shadowcat-moniker in X-Men Evolution. Unlike, say, Storm and Cyclops, these two characters are best known by their full names. Which is a shame, because while Marvel Girl is a silly remnant of the sixties, Shadowcat is a pretty badass name. So much better than Sprite or Ariel, which sound like soft drinks. Anyway, go Kitty go!

Back in Generic Japanese Mountain Town, Carmen is furious that Kitty left them again. He sort of blames it on Wolverine, but Wolverine volleys right back at him, rightfully blaming daddy!Pryde for this whole mess. Sure, Carmen may have started with noble intentions – rescuing his business, providing for his family – but he went along with everything, even when it became morally dicey. Carmen was like me at the company wet T-shirt contest: way in over his head. Carmen, cowed, shuts the fuck up.

Ogun, meanwhile, reveals that Wolverine used to be like a brother to him. To punish Logan for interfering, he means to kill Lady Mariko, which checks out for sibling relationships. However, Kitty predicted this: when Ogun strikes at Mariko sleeping in her bed (coward), Kitty jumps out! Sneaky sneaky. They fight again and Ogun evens the playing field by using Poison Powder which somehow prevents Kitty from phasing. (Sure.) Ogun also tries to control her mind again, but this time Kitty’s will is indomitable. Ogun, fed up with all these women thinking for themselves, decides to execute her.

That’s about when Wolverine steps in.

What follow are a few great fight scenes. While Wolverine and Ogun fight, Kitty and Yukio fend off Shigedematsu’s henchman to protect Mariko and Carmen. Wolverine defeats Ogun by unleashing his berserker side – the chaotic wild side that foils so nicely to his rigidly trained ninja side – and after he has Ogun on his knees, he offers Kitty a choice. You know, that choice that always comes up when a grizzled veteran mentors the wide-eyed ingenue:

Would you have pegged Colossus? Will you kill?

Not to hate on the pretty ‘killing a defeated foe is wrong’ speech, but this coming from mr. Slicey-Dicey-I-Put-Several-Hellfire-Guards-On-Icey is laying it on a leeetle thick. (Kitty Pryde and Wolverine 6)

Ogun, who does not understand that this is not the moment to try again, tries to stab Kitty in the back. Wolverine whispers for Kitty to phase and, as she does so, Ogun impales himself on Wolverine’s claws. (Which is just so fucking cool.) It also means Wolverine doesn’t immediately violate his own little speech, because Ogun technically did this to himself.

Carmen returns to the scene, declaring it time for the denouement. He is willing to turn himself in to the police, even if he might go to jail for it. Good on ya, Carmen! (Don’t ever go to Genosha!) Kitty, newly ninja'd, has some sushi and then she, her dad and Logan return to the States.

And I think that’s it! Wolverine is still largely the same as he was before the series kicked off (except he used to be a secret ninja). He doesn’t even pick up a new personal nemesis, because unlike most of those (and X-Men foes in general), I don’t think we ever see Ogun again. He stays dead! Weird.

No, the most enduring legacy of this miniseries is Kitty Pryde’s new codename. And perhaps her penchant for making idiotic mistakes.

As a final note: Carmen might seem like a weird name for a Jewish man, but apparently it is a Spanish/Italian derivative of the Hebrew karmel (or God’s vineyard), so I stand corrected. L’chaim, Mr. Pryde!

#x-men #x-men abridged #abridged x-men #shadowcat #wolverine #mariko #yukio #ogun #carmen pryde #kitty pryde #chris claremont #allen milgrom

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jaggedwolf · 2 months

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pll:original sin 1x01-1x04

I spent so long wondering if I'd seen Imogen's actress before, contemplating if she was Callie from The Fosters and going nah not quite it, only to eventually look it up and realize it's Callie's half-sister. Good casting, The Fosters

uhh very much more of a slasher vibe than OG PLL

that slowed down opening theme is sick 🔥

Tabitha's special interest is movies and she will not let us forget it. dear god.

can't believe there's no canon f/f with any of the main liars afaik. this is pretty little liars, you're not even restricted by abc family's double-standards department anymore, come on! emily fields is disappointed.

Imogen and Tabitha's friendship is cute and I could ship that

though, I find Imogen's pre-pregnancy dynamics with the girls a little undercooked? They all hate Karen and Kelly, understandably, but I don't get a sense of what they thought of Imogen back when she was BFFs with the twins

that said, I immediately bought the initial group bonding + them at the dance

poor noa. just, poor, poor noa, I hope she gets a break soon. :(

I like that Tabby's mom shares some deets about Y2K and Angela Waters with her daughter and Imogen, but it makes it way less understandable why no one is telling the moms about the creepy guy they keep seeing and the texts referencing Y2K.

I'm just saying, the original Liars were in a bit of a frog-boiling situation with A. It started with blackmail texts before escalating to direct threats on anyone's life, and the kind of blackmail you absolutely don't tell your mom!

here only Tabitha has a secret, but A hasn't really threatened to reveal it?

Faran being the least suffering liar is so funny. Girl could literally move to Pittsburgh away from this shitty little town, and probably negotiate with her mom to figure out her dad being there too. Why are you still here!

Not!Ezra is exactly as creepy as he should be, I hate him, his affect reminds me of Christian Bale in American Psycho

wonder if we'll see a liar mom fuck over angela waters in every episode. did the beasleys have beef with her too?

Mouse's mom has no discernable character trait other than being Lea Salonga.

show is actively taunting us about the possibility of a twin switch...

#jaggedwolf rambles #mine #pll os #the show being original sin and my inclination to refer to PLL as the original series keeps tripping me up #pll os watching #what a throwback tag #anw please don't spoil me about stuff in later eps #pll original sin

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rennyji · 3 months

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the art of conversation - random dark side of things

I had my cell phone on me between 2:15 and 2:30 PM on Tuesday January 30, 2024, a period of time where there was a verbal exchange between my father and me.

For the hackers not relying on hacking my brain, my phone's mic was available for hacking. I'm going to assume, at this point, they listen all day. I also conversed in English. It gets confusing in this regard. If I want a show for troubled kids or American hackers of some sort, to hear me, I'd converse in English. If I'm talking to my parents, I speak in their tongue.

When my intention is for my parents to understand me, wouldn't it be delusional of me to speak in English, thinking something else might want in on my conversation?

But going back to the conversation with my father:

The conversation ended with my father saying "the greatest grief is depending on those like you..." in his native dialect.

These conversations always leave me with the sensation of WTF?!

They literally, are so random, and of an escalating nature, that it leaves you dumfounded. I think the stress is impacting their mental health, in this situation snowballing, without correction of them, over more than a decade. At the end of the conversation, to make it seem like everything's good in the house, I'm assuming he has me send texts to him about a job position I'm interested in, like it replaces everything that transpired. I say this because the last half hour is like a musical with highs and lows. There are so many low points, this request to help me find a job, again seems random, as it's not in tune with the theme or preceding atmosphere of the house.

So What happened, how'd things start?

My father, years ago, decades ago, wrote three 50 page books in his native dialect. Someone emailed him a copy, and he wanted to make corrections on printed paper. Now, he writes in his corrections on printed paper, vs. highlighting/notating in Microsoft Word. He then wants me to scan his single "X" like comments/remarks on a across 50 pages.

As are his usual requests of me, he asks something slow, painful, and time consuming: he wants me to scan 50 or more pages on our normal printer, through a computer that is malfunctioning. I agree and say I will do it. I tell him I have a more efficient way of scanning, one that is clear and fast with my phone. I've been telling him since yesterday, I can unite all the pages into a single PDF file, after scanning on my phone. There's so much you can do on the iPhone 14 and above now. I edit videos on it, instead of my actual MacBook.

He doesn't feel my method, in his computer illiterate mind, is efficient. It's not about getting free jabs at dad, but this kind of dialogue between him and me is so common, we live in the same house and we barely talk. To the scanning occurring on the phone, He literally says, "it looks small on your phone", maybe you should use the scanner or the printer.

He has it fixed in his mind, that the printer is better, despite me telling him otherwise.

I tell him, it's obviously because it's on my phone; that's why it looks small. I tell him on the computer, the size is relative, or it will look big.

I tell him that I'll email the file scanned on my phone, to his email, and he can see how it looks on the computer. And if there is any problem, I offered to rescan everything his way. What more can I do?!

With me extending a hand, offering to do things twice over, does it make sense, for him to say at the end of the ordeal, "Its my greatest grief depending on you"? Usually these sentiments are my "Actual" sentiments towards him. His accusations of problems are also reverse. Usually something wrong he sees in me, is a projection of a problem on his part. It is the craziest thing. It's the same thing with my mother. Troubled kids show or not, I know the orchestrators see this absolute circus. Distressed with utter nonsense they realize, they continue with attacking me. They need a desperate way of making me look ill, having realized, against all odds, against all probability, that my parents-not saying this out of vengeance-are not well or well enough to converse about a serious situation. What do they have riding on all this? My mother might have her job as a nurse practitioner looking bad. My dad, who thinks by running a grocery store in the Indian community, is seen as a prominent businessman and people will frown on him or think it questions his intelligence.

But what happened after my offer to rescan everything? My father says the pdf file will only look big on his desktop computer, because the monitor is big. He says the people he's emailed the novel to, is another country. He claims their monitors may not be big and they can't see the file, if I scan it with my paid TurboScan on my phone. These kind of nonsensical beliefs, end up becoming things you have to explain away.

The more to explain, the more the conversation drags out, the more opportunities for saying mean things to each other.

Then I see my father putting his hand to his head, looking watery eyed, and I just ask him, "what did I do? What's wrong?"

Then the accusations come snowballing. Apparently, according to my father, I think my ability to converse, is, literally, "impressive." Apparently, according to him, "other people" don't feel the same way. So now he's alluding to me being pretentious and arrogant.

Then I tell him, all I said was everyone sees a PDF file the same way and that I'm using an advanced scanner app-what's with this random escalating argument?

Then he tells me: I'm saying over and over that the PDF file will work. He starts yelling to stop repeating myself.

I take no pleasure in bashing my dad...but I'm in a bad spot, where things operate without my consent. For some reason, at 35 years of age, my parents are consulted on my behalf. but if you understand the back and forth between my parents and me, it sounds like someone talking to someone who's flat out stupid, or something related to two caveman trying to express a grievance.

If I say anything consecutively about the PDF file, its because of my exclamation: "How is this causing this argument?" Then my father storms off from the computer, saying he doesn't want to look at the file. Somewhere prior to this, he said let's do it tomorrow, because again, he thinks probably my mood is off, today. Going back to storming from the computer, he says to me, stop talking so that I can finish what I'm saying...

Throughout this conversation, there's something I notice about non English speakers. They say "yeah" "yeah" "yeah" over and over when someone else is speaking. It's like some kind of filler. But are they actually listening, or is it a crutch word used in place of listening?

I bring up this repeated word he says, in this random conversation because he claims its his way of agreeing with me. Over what? If its about the PDF file working everywhere, and the Yeahs are about agreeing with me, why is he questioning whether someone with a possibly smaller monitor in another country, will be able to see the file?

These conversations are all over the place. Complete and utter nonsense. It's like when I'm communicating with him, my father hears me talking like Snoopy in the below YouTube clip. All he hears is frustration, sees an irritated face, hears blurred words, and wonders why is my son somehow mean to me?!

youtube

On a separate occasion, my father tells me on a Sunday that he's going to throw my stuff out and he's going to sell the house. The things he says are that random. Then my mother jumps in. She starts giving me the crazy eye. I don't know if this is some twist or development to my situation or if they've lost it. They're scaring me. They called 911 on me four times for my conversations escalating like the scanner incident above. Literally over nothing. This time I called. I told 911 my parents are behaving oddly. Since I have a written mental history, the police and ambulances comes after me. When I realized 911 wasn't going to help me, I take my BMW to a coffee shop. What I didn't know was that 911 called my parents back and they told 911 I"m crazy. So that the police know who to target when they arrive, my father comes outside and takes the license plate of my car driving off. WTF?! Over and over What the F*. -----

My mother is a piece of work. Again, no pleasure in saying these things. But over and over, I'm sensing something from my parents: they want to make me look bad, because, they think, like with a child, if you're child looks bad, its better than you, the parent, with an adult life, looking bad. Its part of their warped psychology. When I eat junk food, it sounds like they're yelling to someone that I"m crazy for eating junk food. They react with nasty language like telling me "everything turns to sh*t once in your mouth." They start saying random uncomfortable things like "You make me want to cry when you eat this donut." WTF?! Apparently no one eats like me. Is the cultural difference so bad that they don't comprehend donuts? Years ago, my mother would get me riled up, then she holds her phone and has me react in our native dialect or English. But is anyone hearing what she said to initiate the reaction, on my part?

After years of WTF moments, as you're getting into your 30s in something occurring without your consultation, you're bound to say things like "Ma, What the h*ll is wrong with you?!" When they call 911 stemming from a conversation they won't listen to, you're bound to say "F* you." Flat out. And then the next day, in this psychotic way, they'll ask if I want oatmeal... For using curse words in my unbelievable situation, my parents will say "Who says things like this to their parents?" But then you wonder, are they idiots? Do they realize for 10 years or more, you're in a mind reading situation? Did they forget they sentenced you into a show for troubled kids? Then my mother tells the orchestrators of my situation, and in random emails to my psychiatrist, that I'm being aggressive. Again, it's like the Snoopy video in this post. As scary as it sounds at this point in the game, I think they're just seeing a frustrated face, with a yelling type tone, without actually comprehending the words exchanged.

Because I know something strange is happening, I just go along with this cycle of events. I believe the orchestrators are stitching parts of conversations, oral and written, to benefit their end. No one is speaking to me about what happens to me, so they're confident they can quietly close off what's happening (the situation as a whole), on basis I'm mentally ill, which they further by displaying me lashing out. By depicting me as abused or mentally ill, they want to assure no one every discusses this event happened to me.

I'm getting tired with reliving every horrible moment on this day and in the past, by constantly having to write it/say it, hoping someone gets what's happening, THIS time."

On the dynamic between my mother and me, I don't think my parents comprehend what I'm saying. If I ask my mom, "to make me feel better, can you repeat back what I said?" My mother lashes out" what is this? Are you a school teacher and am I the student?" "is this how you speak to your mother?"

My parents used to think "I'm acting up" or aloof when I'd speak English in the house. The indoctrinated me into our native language as that being my "mother tongue." I realized, if nothing else, I had to speak in that dialect, to get a message across. Not to sound racist, but it's like I"m a guy only speaking English talking to recent immigrants. They'll keep saying Yeah Yeah Yeah to everything and probably aren't the people you direct philosophical ideas to. But moving on, within the last few years, my mother yells at me for speaking in our native dialect. WTF?! again. Over a stretch of time, makes you wonder, who's listening, why encourage English now? In these instances, I tell my mother, I'm talking to YOU, focusing on YOU, want YOU to understand ME. She then lashes out and tells me, she's been speaking English before you were born. It's like another form of teacher/student frustration. Apparently my mother is so well spoken, I'm offending her by speaking in her native dialect. I'm insulting her intelligence. Sounds like the ego of sensitive immigrant.

Other instances while I"m speaking, making me think you're hearing my house/not always seeing m house, my mother starts storming to the garage, midway in a conversation with me, or chopping frozen chicken. If I tell her, people normally sit down or make eye contact when conversing with another, she says "how would you know what's normal?" She'll then say "she can multitask and I'm dysfunctional because I can't talk/listen while doing other things."

I think my situation is not like telling my parents "I'm going to go get a bite to eat" Its something of a very serious nature, spanning years, that requires everyone giving undivided attention.

The next thing to the conversation dynamic? If I say four-5 sentences together, my mother says I let no one speak, I"m going to get in trouble with the Americans at work, this is why apparently "no one" like me....a series of randomness. Where is all this coming from? She then instructs me, "conversation works by one person saying something, and then the other person takes a turn." We spend so much time in frustration, expressing frustration, or talking about the art of conversation, the point of what was initially said, gets lost. Doesn't conversation happen with people fully expressing their point?

I said to my mother on one occasion, don't say incendiary things, learn to ignore things when we're all in the same house. I ask her, do you know what I mean by incendiary? she lashes out because I offended her ego by asking the definition of the word. She basically says you're not my professor to ask me such questions. Its her way of never answering the question.

this show, this mind reading situation, should find people clear of, personal flaws, before having them take reign over someone else's life. If nothing else, the orchestrators should clear possible personality obstacles.

The other mental dynamic to my mother's speech, as well as my father's speech, is that they're in such a rush to speak, that they don't listen to what you have to say. Now this could be personality flaws or the flaws of non native English speaking persons.

But you gotta ask, if they're in a rush to speak, to the point where they make what you say irrelevant, "Why are they in a rush to speak?" Is it for conversation stitching for what's relayed? Is it because they're in trouble, and need to make you look bad, by putting a dark spot on your future, for the sake of keeping their past/present blemish free?

---

You test comprehension after these incidents, adrenaline might fine tune focus ... but is the big picture digested, is the whole situation processed?

---

you want to say the best about those in your life, brag about them. in my probably infamous complaint forms and crime tips from a decade ago, I'd say "Please tell my family and me what's going on...My parents are people who give up basic necessities for my luxuries..." Maybe to spite that, something changed the atmosphere of my home.

At this point, it could be anything. I keep justifying everything like:

maybe my parents have a reason for the atmosphere to the house, maybe the police need to verify my sanity at a behavioral health center...but its been a decade, and I'm tired of making excuses for everyone...I want my freedom. I went to college for a bachelors/masters "so that I can start life." What ended up happening? An enforced delay on me starting life, living life...

#Youtube

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katemcgarry · 2 years

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Seminar 1 & 2 Films

Submarine:

Submarine is an award-winning short film by Mounia Akl. The film centres around a woman named Hala who, amidst the 2015 Lebanon Garbage crisis, is refusing to leave.

The opening sequence in this film is an excellent demonstration of several filmmaking disciplines working together. As the camera pans around Hala’s home, it is clear from the production design this is the home of a person who is artistic and sentimental. The living room is covered in keepsakes, family photos, film and music posters; the place is warm and inviting. Due to the immersiveness of the production design, the slow pan at the beginning feels warranted as it gives the audience time to take a look at Hala’s home. The warmth built in these opening few shots is disrupted as her window buckles under the pressure of the mounting rubbish, and the harsh light of reality streams through her broken window. Cinematography and production design work together to create a striking image and establish the journey the character must go on.

After this moment is where the film gets on to some uneasy ground. In terms of whether the 20-minute run of the film is warranted, I think it is. The filmmaker might indulge a little bit in the Cinemagic vistas of the landscapes, but I think cutting the runtime down would affect the passing and effect of what the filmmaker is ultimately trying to achieve. What I think doesn’t work are some of the story elements. Hala is somewhat passive, and I didn’t really believe in the romantic narrative or why she felt so strongly that she had to stay. I could pick up from context clues that perhaps she wants to stay to be close to her late father as her home town is her last connection to him. However, this is not clearly stated, and I think, overall, the narrative is a bit too unambiguous. I read a review by Vladan Petković, who argued that the film felt like a preview of something much bigger. They had quite a strong opinion about filmmakers using short films in this way as the format should be self-contained; they shouldn’t be used as a trailer for a feature. I have to agree with why I think the film is the way it is. Mounia Akl is giving her audience a taste of the theme and character she wants to explore in more detail and leaves you with more questions than answers to gain momentum toward a more significant project.

Hail Mary Country:

This 2018 short film, directed by Tannaz Hazemi, is about an American football-loving family held at gunpoint by an unsuspecting house guest.

This is an interesting film and one which divided opinion among the class. For me, the film didn't work. From the get-go, the film felt as though it wanted to play with conventions and, at every opportunity, play with audience expectations. Whether it's the women who are obsessed with a football whilst the men are in the kitchen or having the male figures objectified whilst washing the car or the tv being the point of tension rather than the loss of a daughter. It felt too much, and after a strong first act, characters and plot points fell to the way side. For example, we are introduced to Darla as the protagonist; however, once she has stolen the car, the narrative shifts to the conflict between Nora and Irene. Therefore, the story doesn't sustain through its 18-minute run time and feels like a film of two halves.

However, the film does work in terms of production design and sound. In the opening shots of the family, we understand their passion for American football. Their living room is adorned with memorabilia; one of the daughters is taking bets, the dad is baking a celebration cake, and the family are watching old games before the big match at five. We also immediately understand the class dynamics of the family; it is clear that this family is a stereotypical working-class southern American family through the way they dress, mannerisms and family dynamics. Additionally, the sound design is used expertly, especially to explain the character's backstory. For example, whilst Darla is washing the car, we hear race car sounds; this, combined with the finishing flag necklace she wears, leads the audience to deduce that previously Darla has raced cars. Therefore, these filmic elements motivate Darla to steal the car without the need for unnecessary exposition.

This film works on serval fronts, including production design and sound, but I think the main issue with this film is the writing. There is no clear protagonist, and for me, the quirky tension about the tv doesn't work and loses focus.

Strange Men:

Strange Men is a 2013 short by Andrew Fitzgerald about a penniless young drifter who decides to travel back home. But on her journey, she encounters several strange men, including one who claims to be her father.

The film's first half works well to comment on the pevertated male gaze as Abby travels through America. The editing and camera work together to capture the solo female travel experience. Whilst traving, women tend to be more warry of those who occupy the world around them to be prepared to protect themselves against strange men. This sentiment is particularly well communicated in the train sation scene. As Abby is waiting, her eyes constantly scan her surroundings, and the camera lingers on those passing, surveying for potential threats. The editing reienforces this setiment as people are continually crisscrossing across the frame to represent this heightened state of awareness.

However, the film begins to lose itself with the introduction of Abby's father, Tim. Their conversation is overly long, rambling and inconsequential. Through this conversation, I think the filmmakers were trying to show Tim trying to find common ground with Abby to bond. The way Tim goes about it is unsettling; whether this was the filmmaker's intention to maintain this perveted male guess I am unsure of, but the writing of this scene is not strong enough to carry through any sentiment effectively enough.

Overall:

I liked all the films across seminars 1 and 2. However, in terms of my filmmaking, this term, the production design in Submarine was particularly significant. In Moth Lilith's film, a lot of the action will occur in the protagonist's bedroom. And similarly to Hala's apartment at the beginning of the Submarine, we want our protagonist Sophia's bedroom to be equally representative of her personality, to have a richness to the production design to give the space depth.

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domesticnct · 2 years

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Thanksgiving with NCT Dream + Sungchan and Shotaro

For the sake of this post, I’m imagining all of the characters as American or spending the holiday with their American significant other. Written in collaboration with @ackermansupremacy

Renjun

Thanksgiving would be hosted at your house and he would go all out.

He would pull out the best dishes, fancy wine glasses, and would buy a beautiful centerpiece that he would make adjustments to make it more unique.

He would be the husband that is in the kitchen all day wearing an apron.

He goes ALL out on the meal and despite your family coming over he would insist that he makes the important things such as the turkey, pumpkin pie, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and dinner rolls. He would task you with making the vegetables and sweet potatoes because you can’t really go wrong with that. He is more of the cook in the relationship.

He would spend the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving on pinterest looking for the perfect recipes and would present them super nice.

He would make super aesthetic pies with leaves made of extra crust on top.

He would buy the best selection of wine and would spend an extra hour on food presentation.

He would play soft jazz music and have a candlelit dinner with both of your parents and all of your siblings as none of you had kids yet who might disrupt the peaceful and fancy environment.

Jeno

Sits on the couch and watches the game with your dad and your son. They all get way too into the game and you and your mom get pretty mad because they’re not helping.

They would be all decked out wearing jerseys and drinking beer and you would scold him and tell him not to drink his dinner away.

He would have your newborn son dressed in his favorite football team’s jersey and would even have a themed pacified for him.

But you wouldn’t mind because he was watching the baby while you and your mother worked in the kitchen.

You would have a really laid back super early dinner right as the game wrapped up.

It wouldn’t be or feel formal at all, it would be very casual and feel just like a family function.

Dinner would be spent discussing the game as him and your dad were rooting for opposing teams and it would overall be really fun.

Jaemin

Helps your mom in the kitchen.

Takes every chance to tell fun facts about the food and the history of Thanksgiving.

Is just trying to impress your mom.

But he didn’t need to because they get along great.

He would be singing and messing around and making sure your mom had a good time while he helped out.

Before dinner he would pop out of the kitchen to check in on you and play with your little niece to give your sister-in-law a break and would ask your brother and your father how the game was going.

During dinner he would brag about and pride himself on the dinner rolls he’d made and teased you about being lazy as the only work you did was set the table, but then he would stop and tell you it was beautiful.

Dinner would be really enjoyable and your mom would go around the table and make everyone say what they were grateful for.

Jaemin would probably give a little rant about how grateful he was for your recent marriage and how grateful he was to share a home and a life together, but he’s even more grateful for the family he married into because he truly believes when one gets married they also marry into the family.

You would leave and your family would somehow love him even more.

Chenle

Doesn’t lift a finger and has his staff cook everything.

Has more traditional thanksgiving foods but with a fancy twist.

Like cranberry vinaigrette, candied sweet potatoes, a slow roasted turkey and wine aged longer than either of you have been alive.

Invites his parents rich friends and has a suit and tie dress code

Gives a whole thanksgiving speech on what he grateful for that lasts too long

Throws a whole after party with a ton of games and drinks

Donates all the extra food

Jisung

Brings one store bought pie that turned out to be a duplicate

Follows you around like a lost puppy and feels too awkward to sit down alone.

Not super social, but likes to listen to the conversations and participate in the family board games.

Literally shook when he overhears the family drama

Somehow diffuses the fight that your mom and aunt start getting into

He’s not good at cooking, but he feels bad about not contributing, so he helps wash the dishes and tidy up the kitchen after.

Probably just sits with the kids and dog the whole time

Shotaro

You spend it at your house and invite both of your families.

He keeps trying to pull you into empty bathrooms and closets and continuously jokes about how excited he is to ‘stuff the turkey’ which does NOT go unnoticed by your father

He cooks the cranberry sauce and calls it his signature dish and doesn’t help or cook anything else

Despite the sauce itself being slightly burnt

Keeps dinner really lively and makes everyone laugh while trying to avoid eye contact with your dad whos staring daggers

Your cousins all love him and invite him on ‘The Walk’

Sungchan

You would spend Thanksgiving with Sungchan’s family who you hadn’t spent much time with since your marriage as they lived far away. You had spent the day on the road for four hours with both of your kids and your dog.

When you arrived at his parents house his mother was a little cold towards you, but eventually warmed up.

She wouldn’t let either of you help out in the kitchen as she claimed it as her own space so you spent much of the time socializing with other relatives and making sure your kids played fairly with their cousins.

The traditions would be very different from your own that you and Sungchan normally spent at home with just your children.

Its a lot more formal with people wearing nice clothing and a fancy table set up.

Eventually it would start to feel like any other family gathering despite Sungchan’s mom being a little cold towards you as she feels you took her son and moved far away, but you get along great with all of his other relatives.

Dinner would go very nicely and you would end up being happy you went after all because you were able to get closer to his family and learn more about the traditions he grew up with to incorporate them into your own.

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miizpah · 3 years

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daddy | suna rintarou

anon asks : Idk if you are taking requests 🥺! But was thinking of a suna x reader fic where they try for kids. I think daddy suna would be so cute with kids 😭🤚🏼

post timeskip ‼️

tw. breeding kink.

authors note : 🥺 requests are always open 🥺 and not me in the middle of changing up my writing theme and style 😖 this is probably the tamest request i’ve gotten, and i’m actually excited for this. daddy suna? stop b4 i froth into orbital. idk if you’ve wanted this smutty, but i literally can’t just write fluff 😔 pls enjoy!

not me changing up my writing style, i’ve been practicing with actually adding in some details and imagery — can’t believe english was my best subject 🙄

If being honest, you had always loved kids. Their tiny little fists and small pudgy feet, and the way they would run to their loved ones in pure excitement. It always clenched at your heart, making you loose your breath and your head becoming lightheaded. You wanted that, to have your own kids running up to you in excitement, screaming your name and hugging your legs. It was wholesome, beautiful, and you were a sucker for wholesome things.

You’ve thought of bringing it up with Rintarou, your want for children. You had the space, living in a big house with multiple spare rooms and baths, big open space for the living room and an even bigger backyard for the children to play. You had it all mapped out, really, the rooms you would need to baby proof, the room that you would set up as their nursery. Hell, you've already picked out a unisex theme for your baby's room. But, despite all of that, you had no clue what Rintarou would say.

He was in his prime, a pro volleyball player for the Reijins, he spent more time practicing and traveling for games than he did stay at home. And, you were only mildly okay with that fact. You too had a demanding job, and while you didn't travel as much as Rintarou, you still traveled.

Which brought you to your next thought. Both of you were too busy to have children, his job was demanding, your job was demanding, the baby would be more demanding. This was the only clear reason you were holding back on asking Rintarou on how he felt about children. Well, that and you’re kind of scared of what he would say. You knew some men would run at the first sign of responsibility, your dad being one, and you really did not want to put your marriage on the --

You shook your head at that dumb thought. He married you, he wouldn’t have married you if he didn’t want the responsibility of possible children in the future.

Sighing to yourself, you look at the clock in your home office, deciding that starting on dinner now would be much better than later. You submitted your response to your boss via email, powering down your desktop and exiting your office.

Hmm, what should I cook? You thought absentmindedly. Wait, I should... You smirk.

Only thirty minutes later, dinner was finished and set on the table, and you began to execute your plan.

...

“I’m home,” the tired voice of Rintarou came from the foyer. He stepped out of his training shoes clumsily, slipping into his house slippers before dragging himself inside the house fully. His hand clutched the straps of his gym bag loosely, eyes more hooded than usual.

He searched around for his pretty wife, looking into the living room, only finding your phone and the tv on playing some western movie with a... clown? He searched the kitchen and dining room, finding the dining table set and hot food steaming from dishes. It smelt delicious, and almost restored his energy, almost.

On the way to your room, he dropped his gym bag in the wash room, before dragging himself up the stairs. “Y/N?” He called.

“Rin?” Your voice was muffled, but could easily be detected. “I’m in our room!”

The room door was pushed open, revealing his pretty wife, in the middle of sliding on a black satin night gown. Rintarou paused in the doorway, seemingly seeing his energy levels rise up quickly. You noticed, grinning slyly to yourself before turning around.

“Welcome home, Rin,” you smile coyly. “How was was practice?” The night gown you wore was on the shorter side, allowing your supple thighs to be seen. Underneath the gown, you wore a red lingerie, with thigh straps connecting to the thong. You knew how much he loved seeing you in red.

“It was... It was fine,” Rintarou struggled a bit, eyes never leaving the way your breasts seemed to just sit there. His mouth watered. “What’s all this?”

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking down at your attire. “Oh, this? It’s nothing, really. Get showered, Rin, dinner won’t be hot for long.” With a kiss on his cold cheek, you sashayed away.

I could bring it up during dinner. You thought with a firm nod.

Rintarou’s eyes were hot on your skin, never once looking down as he ate his food. His hair was damp from his shower, and he had forgo putting on a shirt, which he knew would make you go slightly feral. It wasn’t your fault that you liked to admire your husband’s hard work, via his abs.

“So,” you started, sipping from your glass. “What all did you do at practice today?” You ask, sitting the glass down and finally meeting his narrowed eyes. You could practically see the desire rolling off of him.

“Serving,” he humored you, bringing his chopsticks to his mouth and eating the meat and rice. He chewed exaggeratingly slow, eyes locked onto yours, finally he swallowed. “A bit of blocking, I’m working on a new technique.”

“Oh? And, will I see this new technique?” You sit your chin on your palm, sitting your chopsticks down and giving him your full attention.

“You will,” he nodded, smirking slightly. “At the game on Sunday.”

“Hey, no fair,” you whined, lips pouting slightly. “I want to be the first of your fans to see the new technique.” You were joking, trying to lighten the suffocating mood.

Rintarou rolled his eyes, waving you off. “Number one fan behavior.” You giggle at that, leaning back in your seat. “And, you? How was your day?”

“I had to finish my project today,” you answer. “Not to be overly cocky, but it was perfect if I do say so myself. Boss will just have to give me that promotion.”

“It was that good?” He finished off the last of his food, nursing his glass of wine.

“It wasn’t just good, baby.” You said, a smirk on your lips and pride in your eyes. You were passionate about your job, and with that promotion, you would become director of your own branch. “It was perfect.”

If you became director, you wouldn’t have to travel anymore, you could even work from home. It was perfect. You had to get that promotion.

Before long, both of you had finished off your drinks, washed and put away the dishes, and found yourself lounging in the living room. It was quiet, the only sound being the tv playing a western reality show, Americans were crazily entertaining.

Rintarou was rubbing slow circles with his thumb on your smooth, hairless leg, which hadn’t been hairless early. His eyes were trained on his phone. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Hey,” you said, quietly but enough to get his attention. He only hummed, eyes not leaving his phone. “What do you think about kids?”

Rintarou looked over to you almost instantly, a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. He almost looked feral. “Right now? Is this a new way for asking for sex?”

“What?” A laugh startled out of you. “No! I’m saying I want to have your babies.”

“But that entitles sex? Just say you want sex.”

“Oh my God... I want to have kids, little fucking people running around our house calling us mommy and daddy.”

“...I heard you the first time,” Rintarou looked away. “But we have to have sex for that.”

You take in a deep breath, eyes rolling. “Listen, Rin. I know we have to have sex, but I am asking you do you want kids?” You explain simply.

“With you, I want lots of kids.” He looked back to you, eyes wide and honest.

Your heart clenched, painfully. A breathtaking smile appearing on your lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come ‘ere, we need to do the sex.”

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What’s the best position to get pregnant in?”

“I-”

“You know what, who gives a fuck? I’ll just plug your hole or something.”

“I’m- What the hell goes through your mind?”

Laid against the cotton sheets, you look downward as Rintarou slides his hands against your thighs, tugging on the thigh straps harshly and causing them to snap back. A soft moan escape your lips, the small twinge of pain being the start of what was next to come.

“So pretty, baby, got all dressed up for me, hm?” His words are hot against your lower stomach, placing a teasing kiss above your pelvis. “Silly little wife, tempting her husband all night.”

You whimper, legs spreading a bit wider as he settled himself between your thighs. His fingers hooking underneath your garter belt, easily unbelting it and throwing it away. His kisses trail down further, pressing a soft kiss against your clothed heat. “You smell so good, angel.”

“I need you, Rin...” You whine, faintly wiggling your hips.

“Patience, silly wife.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading them as he sat on his knees. “You’re soaking through your panties, baby.” A hand comes down, lightly slapping your clothed cunt. You whimper, bringing a hand down and gripping his wrist. “Fuck,” he groaned.

“Please, Rin. Just fuck me already!” You whine loudly, moving your hips against his palm.

“Shit, okay,” he pulled his hand away, using both to pull your panties and thigh straps off. His eyes fluttered once your sopping cunt was revealed, messy and dripping, and just for him.

You can only hum in appreciate at the stretch in your thighs as Rintarou pushed them to your chest, folding you into a mating press. Within seconds, he’s pushing into your cunt, stretching you wide. You could only lay there and take it, your gummy walls tight around his cock.

Head falling back against the pillows, you moan as you feel him still sinking into you. The position was new to both of you, and was hitting spots that you’ve never felt before. Your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, eyes fluttering close and mouth falling open as more moans spilled.

“D-deep,” you muttered breathlessly, opening your eyes and locking eyes with his. “So good, Rin~”

He smirked before leaning down and slotting your mouths together, swallowing each other noises as he finally sheathed deeply inside of you, kissing your cervix softly. Your tongues tangled together, causing your salvias to mix and dribbling between you both.

Steadily, he pulled back, cock dragging against your tight walls. Lips still locked, he pushed back in, swallowing your cries of pleasure. You pulled away then, licking your lips and taking a deep breath.

Head bowed, and eyes locked on your drooling cunt, he started to thrust at a slow pace, seemingly fascinated at seeing his cock sink into you at a new angle. One of your hands came up and tangled into his dark locks, head falling back against the pillows as you slowly fell deeper and deeper into a delirious state.

“Fucking sexy the way your messy cunt take my cock,” he looked up then, your hand falling from his hair. “My messy wife, hm?”

“Rin, faster-” Was all you could say, the slow drag of his cock fucking you into a state of dumbness.

He smirked then, liking the state you were in. His hips pulled back, and with a sharp thrust, he was fully sheathed again.

Breath warm against your cheek, he began to fuck into you like a man possessed, his hands enclosing around your wrists and pressing them against the bed. Your moans mixing with the lewd sounds emitting from your cunt, creating a symphony that only proved to make you both feral.

“Going pump you full, angel, shit.” Rintarou whispered breathlessly against your ear, sending jolts of pleasure down your spine, moans growing louder. “Fill you to the brim with my cum, going to feel it for days.”

“Yes,” you keen, gummy walls fluttering around his cock. “Pump me full, Rin. Want your cum so bad.”

“Shitshitshitshit,” he groaned, leaning back and pulling out. Easily, he turned your body around, dragging you to your hands and knees, and entering your cunt in all the same second.

You didn’t have enough time to register before he’s hammering into you, causing you cry out loudly, hands gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck!” His hands bruised against your hips, holding them tightly as he used them as leverage to pistol into you.

“Gonna fuck so many babies into you,” he spat, slapping your ass cheek harshly. “Gonna look so beautiful swole with my child, fuck!”

You whine loudly, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Rin, I wanna cum!”

He seemed to easily find your spot, the one spot that never fails to have your body shaking, muscles tensing up, and you screaming his name.

“Ah, ah, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! Rin!” Your fluttering walls tighten around his cock, body tensing as you cum. Your hands gripping the sheets so tightly, head bowed against the bed and back arched down.

“Damn, you’re so sexy, angel.” He groaned, spilling deep within your cunt. Both of you left breathless. “Don’t move, and you better not spill an inch of my cum.” He said, slowly pulling his cock free.

You sat there, catching your breath, and clenching your walls as tight as you could without relaxing. You flinch when you feel a cold metal rub against your sensitive clit. “Relax,” Rin muttered as he pushed the plug against your hole, you did as told, and slowly he pushed the plug inside to the hilt.

“Shower,” you groan, standing with the help of Rintarou.

“Shower sex?”

“Rin, you just plugged me.”

“You have another two holes.”

“I will kill you.”

“So... no head?”

note — not me tryna to reference a vine at the end, lmaooooo. i hope anon liked this, :)!! i’m not the best at breeding kinks. 😔 not edited 😔

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #✨.requests.#🌚.dirty #suna smut #suna x reader #suna rinataro #tw.breeding

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