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hereformcdonaldshonestly · 3 years

Note

i love your writing alot so im requesting again lol- HCs for deku, tsuyu, shoto, denki and hanta with a S/O who moves around a lot while they're sleeping and accidently kicks them out of bed? tysm love. and again, make sure you take care of yourself!! <33

Awww! Of course! :D

So this originally was supposed to be posted a few days ago, but noooooooo my phone messed the crap up so now I have to start over again 😤 so these will be short but I promise to put out some good stuff!

S/O Kicks Them Out of the Bed

Fluff 💖

Izuku Midoriya-

Anytime you and Izuku slept in the same bed, it would be all nice and cuddly. Then you would get hot and he would try to still cuddle you since he’s a sweet green-haired baby. Whenever it did get hot, you were known to throw the covers off you and sleep almost nude. One of the first times this ever happened, you and him were both soundly asleep. You started to toss and turn from the sweat and eventually threw off the cover. He immediately cuddled you and got closer. BIG MISTAKE! You managed to kick him off the bed with one swift kick and woke up to him groaning, laying on the ground.

“Izuku!” You said, standing up and going over to him. He was curled up, rubbing his head from where he hit it. “Ah! What happened!?” He asked after a few moments of sitting up, taking a second. “I was hot!” You exclaimed, feeling horrible. That next morning people were asking about what happened, all you said was one word and it was “hot” then Deku would add on with “natured, very hot natured.” Poor kid!

Tsuyu Asui-

Whenever you started dating Tsu, you knew it would be like dating a frog. But it never really bothered you until you both were going to sleep, she would spread out on the bed and you would constantly move around, trying to get comfortable. So there was barely any space in the bed when it came to you two. She was sprawled out and you were tossing and turning. You could hear her grumble and mumble a bit when she kept feeling the sheets move but it wasn’t much of a bother. Then something just made you want to stretch your legs out, and when you did you somehow managed to kick her off the bed and into the floor. You were in such a deep sleep, you didn’t even realize until that next morning.

“Hey babe! How did you sleep?” You ask, kissing her cheek. “Pretty bad, I fell off the bed, ribbit.” Your eyes went kind of wide, so what was a bad guy in your dream that you kicked was actually Tsu! “I’m so sorry!” You say, while hugging her. She laughed it off and honestly it was just a fun story to tell to your friends, she still didn’t mind sharing the bed with you.

Shoto Todoroki-

Shoto was usually hot and cold, yes not just his personality or the Katy Perry song, but his body was hot and cold on different sides! Whenever you slept with him, you would lay on his chiller side, that night you were asleep with your face on his shoulder. His chest slowly raising up and down, with quiet snores. You were known to move around a decent bit, but it never really affected him. You started to move around, moving your arms and legs. You went to go stretch, that’s when you feel your hand hit something. Your eyes opened quickly and you heard a thud. There was Shoto holding his face, laying on the ground. “I’m so sorry Todoroki!” You say, instantly feeling terrible. “No no, it’s fine.” He says, finally looking at you.

You ended up sitting in the floor with him, holding a ice pack up to his eye. You kept apologizing over and over again, the last time you did it, he chuckled quietly. “At least I know you can defend yourself, I’m not mad.” He says looking at you. You smile a bit, kissing his forehead. “I really am sorry.” You sigh, he cups your face and kisses you. “Like I said (y/n), I’m not mad. So don’t worry, okay?” He says, you nod. That next morning people asked what happened to his eye and he just says you used your sleep karate skills on him. Everyone laughed, knowing that you move around a lot anyways!

Denki Kaminari-

Whenever it came down to it, you were known for moving around a lot in your sleep. And when anytime would touch Denki that he couldn’t recognize, he immediately goes into defensive mode. This occurred one night while you were asleep in his dorm. You were laying down, faced towards the wall and in a pretty deep sleep. That’s when you stretch out your leg with some force and you send him flying! He falls off and all hell is unleashed. “Ah!” Denki yells, falling and immediately using his quirk. He starts to send electric shocks throughout the room and managed to hit you and hit the outlets so the lights got knocked out and bursted from the amount of electricity that came from him. You woke up yelling because being electrocuted isn’t the best way to start your day. The whole power was out, you hear students yell out if confusion and some out of fright. It was like that the whole night!

That next morning, you and Denki had to explain to Aizawa what happened and honestly he was NOT a fan. You had a mark from the electricity hitting you, Denki had dark eye bags from lack of sleep and bruises from where he accidentally got hit and then knocked off into the floor. You guys still slept together, but after that you were MUCH more cautious and made sure to not freak out like you both did.

Hanta Sero-

You were very cold natured, like you would sleep with 5 blankets and still be cold! Sero could deal with it but it wasn’t exactly his type of sleeping style. So you both would share the blankets without a complaint in the world. Well that was until you started to take the blanket from it. It was like a full out war for this thin blanket! You would pull it from him, curling up. You could hear him groan and try to pull it back from him. It went like this all night. By the time it was late, you grabbed the blanket for the last time. He went to go and pull it back, that’s when you kicked him and he fell straight onto the floor. “Ah!” He yells as he falls into the floor. He hit the floor with a loud thud, that woke you up in an instant. “What happened!?” You say, getting ready to fight whatever there could possibly be.

You look down and your face got immediately red. “I uh-“ you start, then you can hear Sero laughing. “That was awesome babe! I didn’t know you could do that!” He says, the next morning he bragged how his partner had wonderful and outstanding leg strength. You were embarrassed at first but then realized it wasn’t that bad, so you would join along laughing with them. Let’s say he was much more careful when sharing a blanket from now on!

I hope you liked this! Recently my other blog has been blowing up! We do letters and if you want to check it out I highly recommend it!

I hope you have a great day! :)

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years

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Idk if you do ship ask but I've always hc that most ritos are affraid of thunder, since that could very easily harm/kill something flying (like a rito), so do you have any headcanons about link comforting revali during a thunderstorm?

Heya! Thanks for sending this ask, I had so much fun writing it! If you wanna know why it took so long, it’s because I accidentally keep making these essentially oneshots instead of headcanons...I get too wrapped up in the atmosphere lmao.

Anyhow, please enjoy, and thanks for your patience! :P

Revalink during a thunderstorm:

2553 words

Revali always thought green was a decent color, it paired well with his evening blue feathers and eyes after all

But this trip was really challenging his beliefs…

“Tree. Tree. Large tree. Giant tree. Leaf. Bush. Greenery. Tree. Giant leaf. A verdant green. Emerald green. Fern green…” He listed off his observations rhythmically

Revali suddenly stopped walking, patting Link on the back.

“Why Link, you won’t believe this, but if you look up now, you can experience this rare sight of a tree. Impressive isn’t it?”

Link turned his head to see Revali gesture grandly at the Faron scenery, before rolling his eyes. ‘You’re such an ass…’

The Rito smirked, content with the annoyance he was causing Link, before continuing to walk beside him, pointing out the “variety” of nature.

He had been traveling with Link across the jungles of Faron, helping him fly over the waterfalls and rivers for...reasons he had forgotten. Something ordered by the Princess? Checking Shrines? Updating ruin locations? Something, something, Zonai, Sheikah, database...and other nonsense words that Revali didn’t really care for, point was, “this expedition would run all the more smoothly with your skill set,” so, here he was.

In hindsight that was probably only said to flatter him into coming, but it’s not like Revali was going to complain. One on one time with Link wasn’t an opportunity he would have passed up on, anyway

Walking under the lush forest canopy, Revali picked at the 700th vine tangled in Link’s hair. “This exploration stuff sure is paying off...I’m experiencing so many new things. Like plants, and water, and bugs. Never could have experienced this anywhere else.”

Link raised an eyebrow, holding up his hands to sign, ‘Come on now, don’t be like that. We’ll be done with this soon, so quit being pretentious for two seconds and enjoy the beauty of nature!’

Right, because the beauty of the sweltering, sickly green, claustrophobic jungle crawling with insects and slimy creatures, dwelling in a sticky, sappy, foliage that seemed to tie your wings down to the earth with it’s grasping vines and prickly leaves… THAT was just the thing for a Rito from Tabantha to enjoy

Revali clicked his tongue. “You think I’m the pretentious one? That one leaf is the size of a Hinox’s arse. What’s even the point of that?? Do the lizards hate the sky that much?” He gestured towards the thick canopy above once again

Link’s expression suddenly changed as he peered through the leaves, noting how the sky’s sunset colors had started to darken with greying clouds. He spoke bluntly

‘There’s a storm coming.’

“Oh? Wonderful…”

‘I think there’s a cave we can use for shelter near the northernmost waterfall.’

“Think? My ability of flight, and overall state of being, is not suited for moisture, so I’d really prefer if you were a bit more certain than, ‘think!’”

‘Well we can always sleep out here if you want… We’ll have to stay overnight judging by the size of those storm clouds.’

Revali shuddered as another sapphire blue lizard crawled across the forest floor near his talons, much too close for comfort. The image of laying down in the dirt, being mocked by the infectious green that covered the sky, for over eight hours, he audibly groaned.

Fine, hypothetical cave it is.

“Get on my back already. The sooner the day is done, the better, I suppose.”

Flying through the air, Revali feathers rustled in the growing wind, he could start to smell the storm in the air. Thankfully, Link’s cave turned out to be real, providing dry shelter from the oncoming, feather-drenching rain, thank Hylia. If he had to do his braids and ribbons again after he spent all morning just—

BOOM!

Not two seconds after Revali had landed them both in the cave, a deafening sound shook the ground and carried Revali’s soul to hell, heaven, and back. The sound that escaped his beak was none short of a shrill squeak you might hear come out of a thousand baby birds.

Behind them, green sparks fizzed against the earth, starting a small fire, before it was quickly extinguished by the now pouring rain.

Revali shuddered, shaking off the few droplets on his wing. His feathers seemed to tremble from the charge in the air, and his mind was racing with thoughts of what would have happened if he was two seconds slower in his descent, but he concealed it all with a neutral frown.

“This forest is lucky the rain started, that bright explosion of death nearly made me think we were under attack, I’d have nocked a bomb arrow or two.”

‘The...thunder and lightning, you mean?’

“Shut up I know what lightning is.”

‘I guess it makes sense you’re not that familiar...the most action you’ll see in Rito Village is cold winds and snow.’

“I said I know what lightning is.”

‘Oh, don’t worry, I heard you. I heard you very clearly a few seconds ago…’

Revali let out a few “hmphs” before sitting down on the cave floor. Link started to chuckle to himself before starting a fire, the cave was wide enough for the smoke to escape and not suffocate them, and it’s warmth was welcomed wholeheartedly by the Rito Champion.

Link thought that would be the end of it, Revali volunteered to take the first night watch, and the Hylian thought nothing of it. Before either of them knew it, Link had somehow drifted off into a peaceful sleep

BOOM!

Another crack of thunder. Sure, thunder had been roaring in air for the last two or three hours, but this time the lightning struck close enough to the cave that Link could feel the vibration against the earth.

He rose with a yawn, stretching his arms as if he had been woken by chirping birds, and not the midnight sky’s roars

Glancing towards Revali’s direction, concern started to creep onto Link’s face, as he watched the Rito with furrowed eyebrows and a frown

As far as he could tell, Revali hadn’t moved an ant’s inch from when Link had last seen him before he dozed off. His jade eyes were fixed on the jungle, and the feathers on his neck seemed to raise everything the sky glowed a shocking flash of green.

Despite having sat up from the fire, Revali didn’t seem to notice that Link had woken.

Link waved his arm in front of him, trying to catch the Rito’s gaze.

‘Hey? You ok?’

Link’s actions cut into Revali’s tumbling thoughts, but he quickly recovered from his initial shock with a click of his tongue

“I’m fine. Just watching to make sure your tired person doesn’t get ambushed by some crafty lizalfo. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Link paused, but in the end, he nodded his head in acceptance. ‘Alrighty then. Well, you go ahead and get some rest. I can take the next watch.’

“...ah. Right.”

Revali awkwardly shuffled closer to the fire, pinning his back a bit deeper into the shallow cave.

He didn’t bother to lie down

‘Are you sure you’re ok?’

“I’m fine. I’m just not tired yet is all”

‘Well you should try to get some sleep, cause tomorro—’

“Yes, I’m well aware, I don’t need the reminder of our schedule.”

‘It would probably help to not face the forest, cause the movement and noises can be distracting when you’re trying to sl—’

“Yes. I understand, thank you. As I said I’m not tired so—”

‘But Revali, I just said—’

“Look! I’m fine, stop pestering me about it, OK? All I want is to just be able to—”

BOOM!

Comically— or perhaps in this atmosphere, un-comically— a lizard fell off the side of a tree near the cave’s mouth, visibly fried and very much dead

Link, ever the survivalist, grew excited at the prospect of a free elixir ingredient, but as he turned to Revali to share this good news, he was greeted with a very still Rito, his feathers pressed stiffly against himself as he seemed to be holding down his other wing, presumably because it was shivering.

That was strange, considering Link had taken care to keep the firewood stocked. He looked at Revali again, his green eyes seemed to be swirling with racing thoughts and fears

......fears…

Hylia he was an idiot

Although in fairness, it works both ways

‘I’m sorry...I should have realized you had a greater fear of lightning given the circumstances…’

The Rito suddenly jerked his head, his voice rising in pitch by the second. “W-What?! I don’t know where you got that idea from. Circumstances?? I’ll have you know I’ve trained for years to be quite fearless.”

A sudden flash of light came from the corner of his eye, and Revali had to clamp his tongue to keep silent. If it weren’t for his feathers, he’d be as white as a dove.

‘Are you sure? I’d imagine the thought of thunderstorms are a lot worse for you Rito..’

‘You know, given all the rain, and the chance of being electrocuted, and shot out of the sky by a bolt of lightning, and the loud sounds that probably remind you of an avalanche or a bomb, and also falling out of the sk—’

Link suddenly cut himself off, realizing a bit too late that the explanation of the factors involved with thunder and lightning wouldn’t exactly help Revali’s attitude.

The Rito only stared at Link, his beak clamped shut. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“I’m fine.”

Silence, then a scoff from Link.

Yeah, right.

He started pulling out an assortment of items from his small pouch—how Link magically managed to fit cart-fulls of apples, armour, and weapons in there was beyond him. Link joked that it was because of magic tree children, at least, Revali thought he was joking

‘Ah-ha! This should make you feel better!’

Link pulled out a golden helmet, it looked Gerudo in style, and it was covered in green, red, and blue gemstones

‘This thing absorbs lightning, and disperses it, so you don’t get hurt!’

Revali raised an eyebrow, hesitant

‘No! Seriously! This thing has saved me dozens of times, it’s seen hundreds of storms, and it’s taken on countless lightning strikes directly on this part!!’

He pointed excitedly to the bright green gemstone’s at the helm’s crest.

Revali could only shift his weight in discomfort, and Link finally got the hint.

‘Ah right. Maybe the lightning prone object isn’t for you...but…’

Link pulled out a weird, flexible hat, in the shape of a fish. It’s giant eyes stared askew at the cave’s walls, and when Link put it on for demonstration purposes, it basically looked like an octorok had spat a starving fish on his hair

‘This little guy is called Lucky. He’s made out of this thing called rubber, and it’s supposed to help keep electricity from touching you. Pretty nifty fashion choice too, right?’

“I will be plucked dry and drowned before you catch me wearing that hideous thing.”

‘Lucky doesn’t appreciate your unkind words…’

A few more minutes pass by, Link unloading the items in his satchel in an attempt to ease Revali’s mind. But most suggestions failed to truly convince him. Occasionally, the storm would boom again, and Link would rub Revali’s wing gently, if only to keep his attention on the weird yellow mushrooms in his hand. Nonetheless, it was a small thing that the Rito appreciated.

After a few more rounds of talking, Revali finally sighed in defeat. “I appreciate your gesture Link, I truly do. But I’d really prefer to just, not think about lightning at all, rather than be surrounded by your cluster of trinkets and tools.”

“So again, it’s fine. I can just sit here and wait it out. Don’t torment me any further with your...endless basket of comfort foods. I do hope that you donate some of those to the needy, I can’t be seen walking around with a selfish, hoarding hero after all.”

Link ignored the quip and Revali’s attempt to deflect the conversation.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else I can offer you?’

Revali opened his beak to say no, before closing it. He looked Link up and down, from his fuzzy golden head, to his pathetic and dirty blue tunic, to his brimming, sky blue eyes.

Revali opened and closed his beak again, before saying, “no, it’s OK.”

Link frowned, tapping his fingers to his chin.

Then, he swiftly grabbed at the blue scarf around Revali’s neck.

“W-Wha—hey!”

‘Just borrowing this for a sec!’

Despite Revali’s attempts to retrieve it, Link was already unfurling the scarf to its full length and width. Surprisingly, it was long enough, long enough for Link’s plan, anyhow

He turned back to Revali. ‘Snuggle up closer to the fire. If we’re gonna sleep towards the back of the cave like this I’d prefer to be as warm as possible

Revali’s expression was indescribable, at least verbally. Through the power of writing I can only describe the expression as something that conveyed feelings such as:

?!?!?!!?!!??!?!?!?!!!??!?!?!!?!!?

‘We’re gonna hug, you dense bastard’

Revali started to sputter out questions, and list of logical reasons as to why that suggestion was absurd. But suggestion turned to action as Link wordlessly wrapped the scarf around the two of them, before snuggling into Revali’s feathers.

On the brightside, Revali was stiff for different reasons, other than lightning.

In hindsight that was probably part of his plan

The Rito was silent, as he struggled with the decision of either allowing himself to be comfortable, nestled with his favourite soft scarf, and his favourite (he would never admit it) Champion

Or to put up his usual quips and walls

Was Link annoyed about this? Happy??

Spirits above he was so embarrassed, Link was probably doing this out of pity, like some mother tending to an infant...

Or maybe it wasn’t like that...? Was it something else?? Some other feeling that had cause him to take such a drastic action to—

‘What’cha thinking about?’

Revali felt Link’s arms move under his wing, and he looked over at the Hylian. He looked so...tranquil, and relaxed...and...stunning....despite his terribly kept hair

“Nothing.”

Link raised his eyebrow, ‘Yeah?’

Revali narrowed his eyes in confusion, but nodded, to which Link turned back and nestly his face into his soft feathers.

What kind of a question is that? What am I thinking about? This situation that came out of no where of course!!

What else would he be thinking abo—

...

The Rito could only smirk to himself finally putting together the pieces of Link’s scheme

Another moment of silence. At least, to Revali it was silent. The only sounds he could hear were of Link’s breathing, and his own heartbeat.

The thunder whispered in the background

Revali smiled, while resting his beak on Link’s soft hair

Then finally, thoughts turned to dreams turned to peace; Revali slept sound as the rain pattered to the sound of his beating heart

HA god what a loser it’s so corny I could die. Who would even right such a thing ahahaahha— oh wait

[If you enjoyed this content, a like and a reblog is greatly appreciated! Let’s me know that I should make more, while also giving me that extra serotonin.]

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw headcanons #fuck it i might just tag this as fanfiction #botw fanfiction #revalink #revali #link #link botw

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mst3kproject · 4 years

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I Was a Teenage Frankenstein

Have I somehow not already reviewed this? Shit, I better get on that. If the title alone weren’t enough, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein has Gary Conway from The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent, Phyllis Coates from Invasion USA, and sure enough, Whit Bissell from I Was a Teenage Werewolf playing more or less the same mad scientist character. Though sadly, there was no part for Pepe the Latino-Transylvanian janitor.

Professor Frankenstein, yet another modern descendant of the fabled Baron, is looking for medical applications of his ancestor’s work. He thinks he can bring dead tissue back to life, and allow it to be used in organ transplants. Naturally Those Fools at the Academy tell him it’s impossible, so he’s determined to Show Them All. Conveniently, shortly after this declaration a car full of drunk teenagers crashes just outside Frankenstein’s home. He and his buddy Dr. Carlton sneak off with one of the corpses, and over the next few weeks they assemble bits and pieces into a boy. Problems arise when Frankenstein, true to form, refuses to acknowledge the humanity of his creation. The boy wants to see the world outside the lab, the Professor’s fiancée Margaret is getting curious about what goes on down there, and Carlton is having more and more qualms… there are many ways this can end, but none of them are happy.

We’ve got some awesome mad science going on here, with a lab full of blinky light machines and a secret stock-footage alligator pit that, yes, the mad doctor does get chucked into at the end. Lots of severed body parts are thrown around, all of them enormously fake but pretty gruesome nevertheless. The horrible, horrible monster mask falls into this same category. My favourite moment in the film is when Frankenstein takes his creature out to pick out a new face, and comes back with a severed head in a birdcage! My second-favourite is the traumatized witness to the car accident wailing “what a crash!” I’d be hard-put to choose between the two for a stinger. And at the end, the movie does the same thing as War of the Colossal Beast, suddenly switching from crisp black and white to shitty desaturated colour, and it has the same effect.

But none of that is what the movie is actually about. If there’s one thing I want to say about this film, it is the truly astonishing fact that I Was a Teenage Frankenstein appears to have been written by somebody who actually read Mary Shelley’s book. This is not a claim that can be made of many Frankenstein movies, and certainly not of any that previously appeared on this blog. I’m not sure the writer of Frankenstein Island had even seen any of the movies. Although I Was a Teenage Frankenstein borrows only the barest of bones from the book’s plot, the emotional center of both is the doctor’s relationship with his creation.

The reason it’s a teenage Frankenstein, by the way, is because the professor believes one of the reasons his ancestor failed at creature-creation is because he used old, worn-out parts. By choosing bits from young men cut down in their prime, he feels the result will be healthier and more resilient both physically and mentally. He seems to be right, too. His creature is not a shuffling abomination, but an intelligent and articulate young man who longs to ‘go out among people’ and is absolutely crushed to find that the ones he meets are terrified of him.

The Professor is proud of the progress he makes in teaching his creation to do things like walk and speak, but he seems entirely uninterested in the boy’s happiness or personality. When he sees his creature crying, he is pleased that the tear ducts work. When Margaret expresses fear of the ‘monster’, Professor Frankenstein tells her to think of him as something ‘like a machine’, a creation of science. Finding he needs to get his creature out of the country in a hurry, he has no qualms about taking the boy apart to ship and reanimate later. He never even bothers to give his creation a name, addressing him simply as ‘my boy’ – never just ‘boy’, but always ‘my boy’. The possessive is important here.

Indeed, as his creature gains humanity, Professor Frankenstein seems to lose his. At the beginning of the movie, the Professor (who never has a first name, either – he is a scientist, not a human being) seems very much in love with Margaret. As events progress, he becomes colder and colder towards her, and eventually manipulates his creation into murdering her. Shortly thereafter is a tense moment in which we worry that the same thing will happen to Dr. Carlton.

Don’t think Frankenstein started off as a good person, though. Though he claims to love her, he slaps Margaret when she asks what he’s working on in the basement. When he first describes the experiment he’s about to perform to Dr. Carlton, he says he’s using the ‘principle of selective breeding’, choosing the best parts to put together into a human body. This will be a step towards ‘perfection in the human race’. That’s the sort of language that should worry just about anybody, especially when it’s coming from somebody with a German name. Unfortunately, the movie shies away from actually exploring the issues of eugenics or racial purity that it seems to bring up here. You can see why they might not want to go into that, but it’s a shame they left it hanging there.

With this for his upbringing, the creature is not a model of morality either. He eventually escapes from the lab and goes outside to interact with human beings. The first person he sees is a girl sitting and brushing her hair – when she notices him, she screams, and he accidentally kills her as he tries to make her stop. The incident clearly has a terrible effect on him, but this has far more to do with the way people reacted to his face than with the fate of the dead woman… the creature never seems to feel a moment’s guilt about the latter. Perhaps this is because of the way Frankenstein raised him, or maybe it’s because, being a reanimated corpse himself, the boy does not think of death as a permanent fate. Again, the question is not explored.

That’s the main problem with I Was a Teenage Frankenstein – it keeps suggesting things it doesn’t want to follow up on. This becomes a particular problem at the ending, which is very unsatisfying. Frankenstein sets about taking his creation apart for transport, the boy objects and kills him, and then commits suicide by electrocuting himself. Throughout the movie, the only thing the creature has expressed a desire for is to interact with people who aren’t afraid of him. Having just removed that stupid monster mask had his plastic surgery, he is on the cusp of being able to do so… but he never gets the chance.

Not only is this disappointing in itself, it also leaves another plot point unsettled. In order to get a normal-looking face, Frankenstein and the creature killed and beheaded a young man named Bob, traumatizing Bob’s girlfriend Arlene in the process. We see Arlene’s mother describe the incident to police officers, and offer them a photograph of Bob so they can identify him if they find him. All these characters then simply vanish. The next scene is Frankenstein telling Carlton that they’re going to take the creature apart for shipping, and then the movie ends.

What I wanted to see at this point was the creature going out and talking to people like he always wanted. It would seem to be going awkwardly but not bad, but then he would run into Arlene, who identifies him as Bob and tries to spread the word that he’s still alive. This would make the creature feel that he has to kill her to keep her quiet, and ultimately bring the police to Frankenstein’s door. Instead, the movie goes with an ending that feels like kind of a cop-out, like they ran out of time and just had to finish the story as quickly as possible. We don’t even get a decent explanation of how he knew the two scientists were going to take him apart.

This is doubly disappointing because they could have had time. There are early, talky scenes that could have been cut down a little in order to show us things we’d rather have seen. The movie doesn’t drag much, but there are bits where it lingers on stuff we don’t need to see, like Margaret getting the key to the lab copied, or establishing that Frankenstein knows where the Lover’s Lane is. Alternatively, since it wasn’t going to make a plot point out of Arlene, they could have cut that scene with her mother talking to the cops entirely… that would have made the ending feel less irrelevant.

In the end, I Was a Teenage Frankenstein reminds me a lot of another favourite bad Frankenstein movie of mine, Lady Frankenstein. The two films share a lack of ambition. Both have everything they need to be a much more interesting and thought-provoking take on the original material, but Lady Frankenstein chose to be about Rosalba Neri’s tits and I Was a Teenage Frankenstein tosses ideas around willy-nilly without ever giving any of them a chance to stick.

The weirdest thing about the movie is that it doesn’t even make any effort to appeal to teenagers! You’d think a movie called I Was a Teenage Frankenstein would feature the title character interacting with teenagers, or trying to do ‘teenager’ things from the 50’s, like go to sock hops or race cars. But no, besides the creature, all the major characters are adults. The closest they come is by encouraging teenagers to identify with the boy as he chafes against parental restrictions. I Was a Teenage Werewolf was about actual teenagers. Why didn’t this film, obviously a partner to it, do the same?

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #i was a teenage frankenstein #tw: suicide #50s

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textsfromunclewalter · 3 years

Text

Uncle Walter did his thing where he watches a movie and then gives me a summarized review of it. In this case, Wonder Woman 1984.

SPOILERS AHEAD!

Fairly warned be thee says I!

Seriously, spoilers.

For reals.

You sure?

Okay.

The movie begins with 10+ minutes of American, I mean Themyscarian, Gladiator. Is this important to the plot? No. But it definitely happened. In a 2 1/2 hour movie.

Fast Forward. (VCR joke, get it? Because it’s the 80s.)

Diana rescues people. At the mall. Where it’s the 80s! In case you forgot!

It’s like the 1980s vomited all over the entire movie. WE GET IT, IT’S THE 80s, gawd.

(The money and effort put into restoring that mall for that scene wasn’t worth it.)

She also rescues Barbara, soon to be Cheetah, by beating the shit out of Barbara’s attacker/potential rapist. Because of course.

It’s been 70 years. Diana is a sad, lonely woman. Because her boyfriend is dead. And, despite being loved by all, gorgeous, wealthy, and successful, without a man what is she?

Then you’ve got the Lord Mandolorian, the infomercial star running a Ponzi scheme.

Barbara gets the magical rock and wishes to be just like Diana, despite Diana’s life being nothing but SADNESS ALONE EMPTY because, as we said, no man.

Kristen Wiig, Barbara, is every 90s teen movie protagonist who just has to take her glasses off, put her hair down, and wear something form fitting, and suddenly she’s beautiful! Because glasses and a ponytail are so not hot.

Lord Mando steals the stone and then becomes The Rock, so everyone’s wishing on him like the Blue Fairy only with more fondling.

Wonder Woman doesn’t MEAN to wish for her dead boyfriend, because she would never do something like that on purpose.

Steve is then ripped from, presumably, heaven and Quantum Leaps into random Handsome Man (seriously, that’s what he’s credited as).

Then random Handsome Man shows up at a fundraiser, all “Yo, Diana, it’s me!”

Suddenly he’s not random Handsom Man, he’s Steve!

So naturally, they have sex! With some random dude’s body. Without his knowledge or consent. While they’re both fully aware this is some random dude’s body.

Even Quantum Leap realized that wasn’t okay. And that was MADE in the 80s, not just set there.

Meanwhile, Crystal Lord Mando is granting wishes and taking each person’s most prized possession in exchange, whether that’s power, a car, or a kidney.

Wonder Woman starts losing her Amazonianess because that’s what she traded for Quantum Leaped Steve.

She’s all not okay with this, and the world is also going to end, so after she has an 80s clothing montage with Steve, she figures she might really ought to do something about this whole world ending shit, as inconvenient as it is.

So she, Steve, and Handsom Man’s body fly the invisible jet to Egypt for a car chase.

Oh, yeah, she can turn things invisible now. Guess she didn’t lose those powers.

We’re now an hour and twenty minutes in before Wonder Woman actually Wonder Womans, mall “fight” not withstanding.

After some actually decent stunt work, she lassoes a missile to save some small dummies.

Meanwhile, Cheetah Lady is attacked, AGAIN, by the exact same potential rapist, only this time Cheetah beats him up, which means she’s turning evil or something, since she liked it. Because it’s only okay for Diana to go after bad guys, not for Cheetah Lady to defend herself, and be glad to do it, obviously.

Diana, Steve, and Handsome Man’s body go to the White House to stop Crystal Lord Mando. Where Diana can slip away from the tour because she knows Carl. You know, Carl. Who can just decide all on his own to take people around the White House, because he’s Carl. Frickin’ Carl.

Crystal Lord Mando holds hands with the president and looks lovingly into his eyes.

Now he knows about particle beams. He wants to become PARTICLE MANDO.

Diana’s CGI lasso destroys a bunch of art and beats people up.

Still human Cheetah Lady saves Crystal Lord Mando because she likes being hot.

They fight the police, or each other, or both? in a scene where some things happen. Or something. It’s a little confusing. They ARE destroying the White House, though.

Chaos! Riots! Dogs and cats, living together...mass hysteria! (It is the 80s after all.)

Diana, Steve, and Handsom Man’s body (which has now had the shit beaten out of it) lean against a column.

Where we get the whole “Diana can’t win without the woman pain of losing her boyfriend,” just like the first movie. She’s all “I’ll never love again!” But he’s all, “it’s cool, I’m already dead.” So they kiss, she walks away, she renounces her wish, and she’s all Amazonian again.

Then random Handsome Dude is just... there? Sore and in pain from having the shit kicked out of him. With no memory of how he got there, or any idea of what’s been happening, and definitely not what his body’s been doing?

Steve Trevor leaps out, jumping from body to body, striving to put right what once went wrong in the DCEU.

Then Diana LASSOES AN AIRPLANE.

And now she can fly because Steve and LOVE.

We are TWO HOURS INTO THIS MOVIE.

Barbara, in her spiky jacket, wishes to be different. Like nobody else. Because she’s unique, and special and UNIQUE.

Cue Metallica, because Diana’s literally RIDING THE LIGHTNING to get to Particle Mando. And she can hear everyone’s wishes now?

Diana changes into her shiny rave outfit.

CGI Actual Animal Cheetah and CGI covered Diana fight in a dark setting, with muted colors, because dear god that CGI is awful and they’ve got to hide it somehow.

(Cats called, they want their design back. Wait, does Cheetah have a butthole? Asking the real questions here. RELEASE THE BUTTHOLE CUT!)

The rave armor, that’s supposed to hold off all the armies of man, can’t stand up to the little kitty claws of someone in face paint and lines drawn on with eyebrow pencil.

Then they’re, like... swinging around? On a CGI lasso and high power line? Something is happening, presumably, but it’s so dark and muted that we’re not exactly sure what.

Cheetah drowns and gets electrocuted, so naturally she’s not dead.

Diana has a wind and paper fight with Crystal Lord Particle Mando.

Monologuing Particle Mando is interrupted by Declarative Diana, who thinks the world was PERFECT in the 80s. Luckily Diana’s got her white girl optimism that first world problems really aren’t so bad, and there are only first world problems.

But she did it! Her cheesy speech about can’t everyone else just be happy not being an immortal Amazonian Warrior? Works. (Probably because the Lasso of Truth was in all the particles, or something.)

Then Not-Crystal-Not-Particle Lord Mando has to save his son, so he renounces his wish and everyone else does, even though they shouldn’t need to? Because if he renounces it, shouldn’t everything stop? Maybe? Who knows how it works.

Everything goes back to... post riots/chaos/hysteria.

No-longer-Crystal-Particle Lord Mando is all good now because his son loves him. Yay?

Presumably something happens to make the world recover from all this, but we’re not privy to what that something was.

Now it’s Christmas. Diana runs into random Handsome Man. Who doesn’t know who she is, has no idea what’s happened to him, and doesn’t know he’s boned her, but hey, she’s cool with it. And he likes the outfit she chose for him, so that whole rape thing is okay now, I guess.

Two and a half hours in, when this long-ass movie SHOULD be over, we’re treated to Diana swimming through the clouds.

FINALLY IT’S OVER.

And then the one good part. Which we WON’T spoil, because it’s actually the one good part. In the goddamn credits.

In summation: Why?

#uncle walter #wonder woman #Wonder Woman 1984 #ww84 #movie review #spoilers #tw: rape #cw: rape #tw rape #cw rape #seriously WTF is with the rape?#spoiler alert #uncle Walter did not care for the movie #you be the judge I guess #if you liked it that’s cool #but it’s good to be warned #tw: so much 1980s

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makeitcanoncowards · 5 years

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Voltron HC’s S/O Who Can’t Sing

I love the person who made the shiro gif, seriously. Person, if you’re reading this I am in love with you wow

Main Paladins (And Allura, because I’m in denial) With a S/O Who Can’t Sing Whatsoever

SHIRO:

Okay to be fair, he can’t sing either.

At all

You two enjoy spending time screaming old 80’s rock songs at the top of your lungs early in the morning

Don’t Stop Believing is your all-time favorite

Everyone else hates it, but what can you do

You’re like a really really bad acapella cover band

Like really bad

It’s okay, you two will just laugh as others cover their ears and groan

But if anyone dares make fun of you two, oh boy

The singing gets louder

And more frequent

With worse songs

So many bad high notes

Honestly, you’re Lance’s worst nightmare

KEITH:

Keith doesn’t really have a good ear for music

His voice is decent; gruff, but not bad

So, when he hears you singing (badly) one day while cleaning your room or something on the Atlas, he just thinks you’re the cutest

Will sit in the doorway and just watch you be goofy

If he knows the song, he might eventually start humming along

Once you notice him though, oh boy

You spin around on a particularly poor note, only to make eye contact with your stupid boyfriend

“How long have you been standing there?!”

“Not that long… a while… two songs ago?”

You’re absolutely mortified

When he sees the look on your face, he instantly apologizes and pulls you into a hug

“I sound like a toad when I sing!!!”

“But a very pretty toad.”

LANCE:

I like to believe this boy has got pipes of gold

I mean, isn’t that obvious?

When he hears you singing All Star (as a joke I swear) he’s even more in love

Your voice cracked on the “Hey nOw” and he felt his heart explode with happiness

You were so good at everything, it’s only fair that you had to be bad at something

Of course, that something was singing

And it only made you even cuter

“How do you make everything you do so attractive?”

“Lance, I literally just had a coughing fit because my voice gave out during ALL STAR”

*sigh* “Beautiful”

Sometimes when you two are alone he’ll sing to you and beg you to sing along

Even though you protest, he somehow convinces you to

It’s just a cute little thing that the two of you do

Besides, you saved the Earth, who cares if you can’t sing like Adele?

HUNK:

You like to sing what you’re doing sometimes just for the hell of it

Y’all were cuddling in the common room on the Atlas, and you were playing with Hunk’s hair

He almost fell asleep

Up until he heard you start singing

“Fluffin up the hair like a muffin”

What?

You were singing it to yourself, in more of a chant type thing as you ran your fingers through his hair

“Uh Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Whatcha doing there?”

“Just making you look pretty, shhh”

You continued styling his hair, randomly singing about how you were making it look

Eventually you had to get up to help Keith with something, and Hunk took that opportunity to go see how it was looking.

Oh man

He looked like he got electrocuted, his hair was sticking up everywhere

Imagine Hunk with Doc Brown from Back to the Future hair

Yea

But it’s okay I mean, he looked kind of cool

…. Kinda

PIDGE:

Pidge was a boss at karaoke

She insisted that you do a round with her one night on the ship

You told her you were the worst singer ever, but she didn’t listen (stubborn gremlin)

SO, you go up to the machine with your stupidly adorable girlfriend and pick the only song you know all the words to,

Let it Go from Frozen

Ohhhhhh dear

So on the first “Let it go” your voice was already quaking

Like you barely got through the line without a giant crack

But then it happened

That one long LET IT GOOOOO (you know the one) happened and you sounded like a 12-year-old during puberty

It wasn’t pretty

You heard one snicker, not sure who it was from, and you immediately left the room to go hide in your own

Pidge followed shortly after, calling your name

When she opened the door, you pointed at her accusingly - tears in your eyes:

“I told you I was bad at singing” You choked out, not wanting to cry over something so simple in front of her

“I’m sorry I didn’t know it bothered you that much…”

You scoff, “I wouldn’t have said anything if it didn’t bother me.”

She spent the rest of the night making it up to you

NOT LIKE THAT

I mean like cuddles and kisses and watching your favorite movies

(She also finds who laughed at you and threatens to punch them in the face if they ever do that again)

ALLURA:

Girl is a goddess!

Dude she can siiiiiiiiiing

You find it so unfair that you sound like a screaming peacock whenever you try to serenade her, but she can hum a single note and you’re a puddle at her feet.

She asks you to sing her a traditional song from Earth, and you internally panicked

Not only were you an absolutely horrendous singer, but the only song you could think of was If You Like Pina Coladas

But, even though you insisted she did not want to hear this, she begged you.

SO guess what you did

You sang your beautiful, ROYAL girlfriend the worst cover of If You Like Pina Coladas that was ever sang

She LOVED IT

You were shocked when she started routinely asking you to sing the song for her until she knew all the words

Suddenly that’s all she sang around the Ship (on Atlas again because she lived and became princess of earth fight me)

Pidge: “WHO TAUGHT ALLURA THAT SONG JFC?!”

Hey Okay so I’m really having fun making these, thank you to everyone who has been reading my other things and yea that’s it!

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pinelife3 · 5 years

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What Women Think Men Think

In the 2000 film What Women Want, Mel Gibson accidentally electrocutes himself with a hairdryer in the bathtub which for some reason gives him the ability to hear women’s thoughts. This comes at a great time for him personally and professionally as it allows him to perform well in his job as an advertising exec, woo the lovely Helen Hunt, and bond with his estranged daughter.

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Sadly, the genius of What Women Want was not recognised by critics in its time and the film received poor reviews - however, it did perform well commercially, making it a great candidate for a gender-flip remake. Our prayers were answered earlier this year with What Men Want, in which Taraji P. Henson plays a sports agent who misses out on a promotion because she doesn’t get men. Surprising no one, What Men Want received worse reviews than the original, but managed to one-up it by also being a commercial disappointment. I haven’t seen it (I hear it is genuinely unwatchable) but from Wikipedia I gather that she drinks some magic tea and then can hear men’s thoughts which... makes her good in bed but doesn’t lead to as much professional success as you might expect. While What Women Want, directed by the great Nancy Meyers, is about a chauvinist learning to respect women, What Men Want is about a woman learning that most men suck and that they don’t deserve respect so it’s better not to work for them. What Men Want was directed by a man which, if you ask me, seems kind of pandering: why would a man make a film about how cartoonishly awful men are?

The rough premise of both What X Want films is that when the protagonist has access to the inner thoughts of the opposite sex, what they hear is revelatory: the opposite sex is apparently unknowable, inscrutable, vastly foreign. It requires magic (or bathtub electrocution) to know what others really think. Ha! Well, I have that magic. A portal to another world. A world where men, unobserved, unfettered by social barriers, freely say whatever they really think of any idea, image or product you present to them: Reddit.

I’ve often complained to Matt that practically any post on Reddit which features a young and/or attractive female woman girl will draw comments from men saying that they’re going to jerk off to the picture. Why do you think we care that you’re going to mash your genitals while watching this gif of a girl in a bikini using a homemade water slide? Why did my eyes and mind have to be subjected to this information about your plans for the afternoon? Did that first improbable spark of life, apes descending from trees, straightened spines, the birth of technology, everything our forebears strived for across eternity, really lead up to this moment where you wrote that on the internet? Why are we pack animals?

So the shtick of this blog post is: I sneak about on Reddit to find out want men want, what they care about, and think about. But! We ladies don’t care what they think about beer and barbecues (we already know that all men are practically BBQsexual, am I right?) so let’s identify a few things where we do care about what they think.

For our purposes, I think women only care about men’s opinions on women - and possibly also sexual politics. For sports, most political issues, food, music, etc. I think we all agree that if you ask a man what he thinks, he’ll probably give you a pretty straight answer. The fantasy of knowing what men really want is that it’s information you would not normally have access to, because you’re too shy to ask, or you’re concerned his answer would be evasive or dishonest. Most people aren’t dishonest because they’re mean liars. They’re dishonest because they doesn’t want to hurt your feelings - or perhaps because they can’t be bothered to argue. So some of the impulse to eavesdrop on someone’s thinking is an insecurity, it’s suspecting they’ve withheld or softened an opinion - and wanting to know the full truth even if it’s hurtful.

In particular (and mostly because I want to talk to someone about these books), I’m going to pick ideas from Sally Rooney’s novels to compare romantic men as written by a woman with the actuality of men on Reddit. Rooney writes love stories (or at least love-adjacent stories) which are widely read by women and have been enormously popular: this to me suggests that her idea of romantic men has resonated with many women and therefore it may be interesting to see if the interiority of the men she’s written could exist in the real world (or, at least on Reddit).

My methodology for trawling Reddit for relevant information is simple:

1. Is the attribute mentioned in Reddit’s NSFW directory? I don’t want to solely rely on the Reddit NSFW directory as a barometer for men’s interest in things, but I believe when trying to assess what men find attractive, this is a decent tool. I would venture to say that every (legal) niche interest is addressed by a NSFW subreddit: gamer girls, women in sundresses, redheads, anime princesses, cute girls, sexy girls, skinny girls, mums, teens, big boobs (attached to women with rich interiorities, I’m sure), mascara stained tears, and so on forever. Related to this: just because a subreddit exists to address a particular niche (e.g. braces), this doesn’t mean all men find that age group, attribute, body type, piece of clothing, etc. attractive - but it at least illustrates that someone found it attractive enough to create a community dedicated to it.

2. Is the attribute mentioned in any of Ask Reddit’s 'Men, what’s one unusual thing you find really attractive about women’ type threads? Men seem to sense that these threads are always started by women, so the responses are more romantic than sexual. Dudes tend to say the ‘unusual things’ they find attractive are freckles, when women can’t reach things on high shelves, messy up-dos, etc.

Question 1: Do men like the pale, non-sexy parts of women?

In Rooney’s second book Normal People, the male protagonist spends a lot of time looking at the female protagonist and admiring her pale delicacy.

You look really well, he says.

I know. It’s classic me. I came to college and got pretty.

He starts laughing. He doesn’t even want to laugh but something about the weird dynamic between them is making him do it. ‘Classic me’ is a very Marianne thing to say, a little self-mocking, and at the same time gesturing to some mutual understanding between them, an understanding that she is special. Her dress is cut low at the front, showing her pale collarbones like two white hyphens.

Later, he admires her pale lips and wrists:

He hasn’t seen her in person since July, when she came home for her father’s Mass. Her lips look pale now and slightly chapped, and she has dark circles under her eyes. Although he takes pleasure in seeing her look good, he feels a special sympathy with her when she looks ill or her skin is bad, like when someone who’s usually very good at sports has a poor game. It makes her seem nicer somehow. She’s wearing a very elegant black blouse, her wrists look slender and white, and her hair is twisted back loosely at her neck.

Women hope men think of them in this way: that men closely observe us and like what they see, that they can thrill romantically at non-sexy parts of our bodies like our under eye bags or bony elbows, that they’re so devoted they like us even when we’re sickly. Lolita has this to thank for its enduring popularity. Sure, Humbert Humbert is a broken man and a pedophile but he’s so lyrical:

I looked and looked at her, and I knew, as clearly as I know that I will die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth. She was only the dead-leaf echo of the nymphet from long ago - but I loved her, this Lolita, pale and polluted and big with another man's child. She could fade and wither - I didn't care. I would still go mad with tenderness at the mere sight of her face.

Men want to be him, women want to be adoringly described by him.

Anyway. Let’s check Reddit to see what men really think of pale wrists and collarbones - or if they think of them at all.

There are no communities in Reddit’s NSFW directory focused on wrists or collarbones or any bony protrusion through pale skin. There is a subreddit dedicated to NSFW content featuring pale girls with ~420,000 subscribers but the focus of this content is sexy areas of the body (enormous pale breasts, perfect pale butts, etc.) and there is not much coverage of pale wrists and/or collarbones.

I also couldn’t find any references to pale non-sexy parts of women in any AskReddit threads related to things men find attractive about women.

Conclusion: I do not believe that men as a cohort are particularly into dark under eye bags, bony chests, etc. These are just things women wish men liked about them.

Question 2: Do men like damaged women?

In Rooney’s first novel, Conversations with Friends, the protagonist has the following conversation with her ~lover~ in bed:

I want you to hit me. I don’t think I want to do that, he said. I knew that he was sitting up now, looking down at me, though I kept my eyes closed. Some people like it, I said. You mean during sex? I didn’t realise you were interested in that kind of thing. I opened my eyes then. He was frowning. Wait, are you okay? he said. Why are you crying? I’m not crying. Incidentally it turned out that I was crying. It was just something my eyes were doing while we were talking. He touched the side of my face where it was wet. I’m not crying, I said. Do you think I want to hurt you? ... I don’t know, I said. I’m just telling you that you can.

In Normal People, the protagonists have a similar exchange during sex:

Will you hit me? she says. For a few seconds she hears nothing, not even his breath. No, he says. I don’t think I want that. Sorry. She says nothing. Is that okay? he asks. She still says nothing. Do you want to stop? he says. She nods her head. She feel his weigh lift off her. She feels empty again and suddenly chill. He sits on the bed and pulls the quilt over himself. She lies there face down, not moving, unable to think of any acceptable movement. Are you okay? he says. I’m sorry I didn’t want to do that, I just think it would be weird. I mean, not weird, but... I don’t know. I don’t think it would be a good idea.

in the context of these novels, this behaviour is a form of self-harm from women who hate themselves: even those I’m closest to want to take advantage of me, will do what they want with me, will hurt me if I let them. The perfect men, confused and innocent to this self-destructive behaviour, are concerned and decline the offer. The women interpret this as a form of sexual rejection but the reader knows this rejection is actually romantic. Could we really thrill over a man who agreed to beat her? No one talks about 50 Shades of Grey anymore but Mr Darcy lingers in the minds of mothers and BBC-watching daughters the world over. Rooney’s romantic leads are very nice men for not hitting the protagonist during sex.

Importantly, while the offer of subservience and sexual violence is not an immediate aphrodisiac, it adds to the overall appeal of our lady protagonists as women who are soft, damaged, not easily available, but also deeply vulnerable. Bob Dylan muses, basically (she’s delicate and seem’s like veneer. Sidebar on that line: I heard it when I was 17 and was jealous because it’s so good. Turns out this line is hotly contested in places where people contest Dylan lyrics. One tribe thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like veneer. Another tribe thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like the mirror. The tribe which is 100% wrong thinks it’s: she’s delicate and seems like Vermeer.).

These books both have this thread of college-aged women who hate themselves and want to be mistreated by their lovers, and lovers who are perfect and sensitive enough to like the control they have in the relationship, but not abuse it. My read on this is that women like to think that men like to save damaged women. Damaged meaning women who are clearly dealing with one or more of the following:

Untreated mental health problems

Self-medication dependencies

Daddy issues

Memories of growing up with violence/abuse/Teletubbies/war crimes/poverty

Heavy baggage from previous relationships

You know what I mean. So, let’s check Reddit to see what men think of damaged women. In the NSFW directory there are a number of BDSM subs, most of which are focused on women being dominated by men: women trussed up in elaborate rigs of ropes and straps, women being used in various ways, beaten, dominated. Most of these subs have between 100,000 - 200,000+ subscribers. This would indicate that there are a decent number of Reddit users who are interested in hurting their sexual partner.

(DISCLAIMER: I don’t mean to kinkshame. ContraPoints (I think in this video) argued that while it’s fine to be into BDSM and enjoy being hurt or hurting someone else, it does suggest some things about you. BDSM isn’t just fun. No one wants to be tied up and beaten/pissed on for no reason. You want those things because it means something to you to be treated badly or to treat others badly. Liking BDSM doesn’t mean you’re damaged, but it might mean something adjacent to that.)

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Furthermore, re: Reddit’s attitude to ‘damaged’ women, any time a guy on Reddit tells a ‘crazy ex’ story, someone from the 3 brain cells club will flop out an old cliché: don’t stick your dick in crazy. Men like to warn each other about damaged women. That cliché often attracts a popular counterpoint:

Crazy chicks are good in bed! What a treat: there are perks to dating a damaged woman. More than anything, men on Reddit love acting like they know a lot about women and wild sex. A damaged, compliant woman is great for clocking up these experiences.

I think we can say that some men do indeed like damaged women. The impression you get from Reddit is that a lot of these men would take advantage of the vulnerable Rooney protagonists, but that’s the point even within the novels: the man could have said yes, could have hit her - which the reader wouldn’t find romantic because we know that on some subcutaneous level she didn’t really want to be treated that way. A lot of romance only reads as romantic because we’re aware of the unromantic alternative: what if Richard Gere had treated Julia Roberts the way most men treat prostitutes? What if Bob Dylan compared a beautiful, mysterious woman to the 17th century Dutch painter Vermeer?

In the final act of What Women Want, Gibson loses the ability to hear women’s thoughts. The point the film makes is that he’s been so reformed by hearing women’s perspectives and relating to them as actual human beings, that he doesn’t need magic anymore to behave like a nice person. This is also because it would not be romantic to be in a relationship with a man who was eavesdropping on your inner monologue. If the relationship is real and working, then you don’t need psychic powers to anticipate how the other person is going to feel and respond to things. You can always just ask - and you’ll have to trust that the answer is honest.

Bonus: more of that lovable scamp Mel Gibson:

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#What Women Want #Nancy Myers #Mel Gibson #Helen Hunt #What Men Want #Reddit

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immortalcockroach · 6 years

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I’ll need ff to survive next two weeks. No Raven in the last episode, she was barely in the one before, and now two weeks hiatus. I can’t breathe. I need my dose of Zaven 😣😣😣😣😣😣😣😣☹️☹️☹️☹️

This season has a very prominent lack of Raven and as a fellow Raven + Zaven stan, I got you.

THE NAME OF THE GENIUS

summary: Raven and Zeke get to know each other while they wait on further instructions from Diyoza, after Zeke gave away the access to the missiles.

pairing: Raven x Shaw

words: 1,555

When Murphy leaves—escapes, Zeke reminds himself, he escaped—and Zeke breaks the news, and launches the missiles, and that’s all he has to do.

When McCreary offers to reclaim his place as Raven’s caretaker, Zeke jumps in without a second thought. It’s a little shuffle and Diyoza lets both of them know they should act like the grown men they are.

“He’s not one of us,” McCreary reminds her.

He doesn’t hear Zeke mutter ‘thankfully’ under his breath.

Instead of replying to McCreary, Diyoza grabs one of the pistols from the table and throws it at Zeke. Her face is steel and the scar on her throat shimmers under the lightning of electronics, and Zeke reminds himself that she’s the real danger here, not McCreary.

She nods at him. “Take care of our little prisoner. Maybe you even learn something.”

For a moment, Zeke thinks it might be a jab at him calling the prisoner a ‘genius’ only days prior. His gaze drops to the black, military-grade pistol in his hands and he realizes she meant that as in learning possible locations of their enemies.

“Will do.”

McCreary gives him a side-eye that Zeke ignores. Once he’s inside the cell where they’re keeping the girl, he unloads the pistol and puts it in the back of his pants.

“Hi.”

At first, she pretends to be sleeping. Her body is sprawled across a small bed with only a thin, uncomfortable mattress between her and the metal. It’s a cell, not unlike the ones Zeke used to see in the movies — empty, dull and claustrophobic, with no personality or anything.

And metallic bars separating the prisoner from the visitor.

Checking no one’s around—why would they be, he reminds himself, they only have one prisoner, and no one cares about her—he takes a key out of his pocket and inserts it into the lock on one of the bars.

“You know,” he says, “back when I was on this planet, over a century ago, we used to do this with no electricity. It was just – you have a key, insert it into a lock, and the prisoner’s free.”

The bars move apart, gliding into the walls. All that’s keeping the girl from running is a remote control in Zeke’s hand that connects to the metallic ring around her neck.

She opens her eyes. “That sounds like a dumb way to keep someone in place.”

“Well, yeah.” He raises the remote control. “That’s why we evolved.”

Without saying anything else, the girl raises herself into a sitting position, resting her back against the cold wall. Her dark eyes trail to the lack of bars and he can see it, right there and then – she’s making a plan.

He hopes he’s done enough to have her consider not killing him, perhaps. She looks dangerous and with that mind of hers, he isn’t doubtful she could come up with a decent plan.

Unless she’s waiting for something.

Or someone.

Zeke runs a hand through his hair, feeling it beginning to grow again. It’s been almost a century since he’d grown hair. That thought itself is… hilarious and concerning at the same time, somehow.

“So,” he says, “what’s your story?”

She cocks an eyebrow at him, looking all serious, and Zeke realizes she’s younger than he expected her to be. Judging by her expertise, he’d put her education far ahead of his own. She might be only a year or two younger, but he’s already—was, he reminds himself—one of the best of his generations.

And now she’s there. Looking all …

Zeke tries to find some words to say, but he can’t find any that don’t make him feel the same as he did when he realized she’s beaten him at his own game.

Damn, he might just be into girls more intelligent than him.

“What’s my story?” she asks. When she’s not being electrocuted or begging for her friend’s life, her voice is raspier than expected, with a hint of sass. “How about we hear your story, Lieutenant Shaw?”

“Fine,” he says. “I was born Miles Ezekiel Shaw, in Brooklyn. That’s… not actually very far from here. But anyway, I was the youngest of five, so I got to play with my brothers’ computers and fix their destroyed stuff and I had a beautiful, astonishing Harley Davidson—”

“A Harley? An actual, real-life Harley Davidson motorcycle?”

The astonished—and impressed, he realizes—look on his face brings a smile to his own. “Yeah. She was a real beauty.”

“Holy shit,” she says. “I’ve always wanted a Harley.”

“You didn’t have those? On your ship?”

“The Ark?” She scoffs. “Necessities only.”

“Same for us. No fun allowed. My Harley’s destroyed now, even though I put her in one of my brothers’ care.”

He sees wheels turning in her head. It’s an interesting sight, because her eyes never leave his yet he feels like she’s scanning him, up and down. If she’s half as smart as he thinks she is, she must’ve figured out exactly what it would take to dismantle both the controller and her necklace.

He finally enters the cell, sitting on a bed that used to be the other guy’s. They were lucky – he managed to warn his people.

“They survived, from what we can tell.”

Zeke sees her chest drop and realizes she was waiting for him to talk about it this entire time. For that, he grants her a small smile.

She smiles back, for a moment. Then coughs, frowns and composes herself, back to a poker face. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“You’re welcome.”

He watches her for a while and she avoids his eyes. He sees her counting the steps between her bed and the end of the cell, between her and freedom. His finger hovers over the button on the controller and he knows her eyes catch that, too.

Then he puts it away.

“Look, I want to be able to trust you. I’m not one of them.”

She laughs. It’s more of a short ‘ha!’ than a laugh, and he doesn’t want to admit it, but it does hurt a little. “That’s what they all say.”

“I’m putting my life on the line here. You may be self-righteous, but my life matters to me a lot.”

“And you’re not self-righteous?” she asks, tilting her head. He notices her ponytail is a wreck, half of her hair falling out of it, and wonders why she hasn’t fixed it more than he wonders about her words. “You risked your oh-so-precious life to get Murphy out.”

Murphy, he makes a mental note.

“You risked your life because you didn’t think they should kill those people. Because you don’t want a war.”

“It’s the last survivable place on the entire planet,” he snaps. “No one wants a war!”

At first, she doesn’t say anything. She watches him with more certainty and force than he thought was possible, eyes intense when they meet his.

He thinks she can see the intelligence in her eyes. They’re dark but crystal clear, even after all the torture she’s endured, and he realizes it might not be her first time.

She’s strong. McCreary could’ve tortured her for as long as he wanted without getting the other guy—Murphy—in and she wouldn’t have talked, even if she had the info.

Damn.

“It’s Raven,” she says. “My name. I was born on the Ark and I’m the best mechanic on the planet.”

She smirks a little at the end and Zeke asks himself if he’s crazy, imagining a challenge in the soft curve of her lips. His own lips mimic hers.

“In that case, nice to meet you, Raven. I’m Zeke.”

“Thought you were Miles?”

“Eh,” he says, “I’ve always preferred Zeke.”

That part he keeps to himself, but he has never preferred Zeke over Miles. It’s only that Miles was a boy who dreamed of outer space and flying a ship, Miles was the boy who became a man in space, Miles was the man who thought no one could beat him at his own game, and he isn’t Miles anymore.

“Nice to meet you, Zeke,” she says, the smirk still hanging in the corners of her lips. “Thanks for saving my friends.”

He nods and leaves with a quick goodbye, telling Diyoza he’s only managed to learn the guy’s name and that she wouldn’t cooperate at the moment. He relaxes when Diyoza doesn’t doubt his words and doesn’t order McCreary to look after her, and Zeke promises to try again in an hour or so, says he’s building trust.

Diyoza believes him. He’s gaining Raven’s trust and she seems like a powerful ally to have, or at least someone he can have decent, intellectual conversations with – he’s had enough of the murderers around him.

So when he goes back to his post, his mind still goes back to her smirk, to the challenge she gave him. And for the frst time since he decided to join this dooming mission, he feels pumped, energized, ready to do whatever it takes to save the human race.

Zeke Shaw feels alive.

And all because of a girl.

A damn brilliant, impressive, challenging, he reminds himself, genius of a hot girl.

Zeke Shaw goes back to work with a smile on his face, counting down minutes until he can go talk to her again.

#raven reyes #zeke shaw #miles shaw #zaven #the 100 #the 100 fanfic #zaven fanfic #zaven fic #fix #paxton mccreary #charmaine diyoza #my fic #Anonymous

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phaltu · 6 years

Note

hi i have one (1) request prekerb sheith seven minutes in heaven this trope is my guilty pleasure pls and thanks xxx

HEY…. ofc, I willl write anything for you. You can literally msg me telling me to write a slow burn enemies with benefits to lovers AU where they are competitive snail racers and I will be like yes of course right away. anyways here you go and good luck on finals xoxox

(RATED T)

“ID please,” Matt sticks his hand out, and Keith snorts as he shoves past him and into the house. “Hey! I’m serious.”

He’s not, because he’s the reason Keith’s shown up to this godforsaken house party in the first place. Father and Mother Holt have gone on vacation this weekend, and the house is close enough to the Galaxy Garrison that Matt’s trying his hardest to up his cool points by inviting the entire student population over. Matt told Keith attendance was mandatory, otherwise he would pick on Keith for the next ten general physics tutorials.

“Thanks for the invite,” Keith says, looking around. He knows a lot of the crowd here, but there are only two people he really talks to outside of the Garrison, and one of them is trying to herd him down the hall. Keith can’t catch a sight of the other one, no matter how much he tries to subtly scan the crowd for someone tall and familiar.

“Looking for someone?” Matt says a little too loudly, and claps Keith’s back a little too hard.

“I’m hungry,” Keith says and Matt laughs like Keith’s made a joke. Matt laughs at a lot of things though, most of the time when he shouldn’t, so Keith lets it slide.

Keith eventually makes it to the kitchen and loses Matt along the way. In the process, a girl who he lent a pencil to at the beginning of the year presses a bottle of Corona into his hands. He also manages unearth a box of pizza pockets from the freezer. Three minutes later, Keith has all he needs to survive the party for the mandatory twenty minutes before he sneaks out and heads back home.

He’s in the middle of shoving the third out of four pizza pockets into his mouth, when someone reaches for the last one.

“Hey,” he barks, grabbing the thief’s wrist. “Mine.”

“My bad,” The someone twists his hand out of Keith’s grasp, giving Keith an all too familiar crooked grin and a wink.

Keith is completely used to his brain electrocuting itself every time he has to look at one Takashi Shirogane for more than ten seconds at a time, but that’s at the Garrison when they’re in uniform, or at the gym where Shiro likes to put Keith in his place regularly, or in the library, where Shiro sacrifices his free time to make sure Keith’s acing his classes or—

Essentially, Keith is used to his brain fritzing out in Shiro’s presence, except for when he’s faced with something even slightly new. He’s seen Shiro in this same white t-shirt before, but it hung loose on him last time, and Shiro normally tucks his dog tags in, doesn’t leave them hanging out and oh god Keith’s only been here for a total of eight minutes.

“Oh, it’s you,” Keith says as his brain keeps expositing. “Nah, you can have some.”

“I’m honoured,” Shiro says, picking up the pizza pocket and taking a bite. “Hey, give me a sip.”

Keith passes his bottle to Shiro, who takes a big gulp of his beer before dumping it down the sink.

“Dude,” Keith whines as Shiro places the empty bottle neatly beside the sink. Keith figures it’s less because Keith’s not twenty one yet, and more because earlier on in the day Keith snarked Shiro in the hearing vicinity of Iverson.

“Not for another two and a half years,” Shiro scolds and Keith flips him off. Shiro pinches the tip of Keith’s middle finger and starts bending it back. “Understood, cadet?”

“You’re so fucking lame,” Keith bites through both the pain and the need to tell Shiro to never refer to him as anything else ever again.

Shiro lets Keith go with a laugh, and Keith shoves him back for good measure. Shiro pretends it hurts a lot more than it actually does, and Keith stalks away in a fake angry huff. He looks over to glare at Shiro, but someone else has already commandeered his attention. Keith deflates a little further when he realizes he’s left his half eaten pizza pocket on the counter, but decides to leave it.

Keith doesn’t go home immediately. He really wishes he had though.

After he left the kitchen, Keith had run into a group of people from one of his physical conditioning classes with whom he got along with fairly well with. His first mistake was that he hung out with them for forty minutes, having a fairly decent time till the conversation had died down and they all drifted away to different parts of the house. Keith had decided to locate Matt and tell him that he was going home, and that Matt couldn’t ask Keith to do anything for a week. That was his second mistake.

If Keith’s being honest with himself, he actually wanted to find Shiro first so he could hang out with him, but Shiro was lost in the crowd and Keith’s not the biggest fan of looking desperate.

Keith had shifted through groups of people, knocked on a couple of doors, and had been ready to just dip without a word when he heard a familiar braying laugh from downstairs. It was followed by an even more familiar chuckle, and Keith’s third mistake of the night was to let his feet automatically take him to the source of the sound.

Now, Keith’s watching as one drunk person stumbles out of the cold storage room and another person stumbles in.

“I don’t get it,” he says, and Shiro opens his mouth to explain the rules for the fourth time. “Shut up, no, I get it. I don’t get why it’s fun though.”

“What’s not fun about making out with people?” Matt pipes up from the other side of Keith. Keith and Shiro are squished onto a love seat, with Matt sprawled half on the arm and half on the top of the seat.

“Being the person waiting outside,” Keith supplies. There’s a circle of people around a twister board, chattering while the two people in the cold storage kiss or talk or whatever people do when they’re trapped in a closet for seven minutes. “I didn’t know people still played this.”

“It would have been Twister,” Matt replies, flicking the back of Keith’s head. “But Katie used the mat as a tarp for a project and set it on fire.”

“Fantastic,” Keith says dryly, as a smirking girl steps out of the closet. “I’m going to leave now.”

“Me too,” Shiro says, and Keith immediately thinks to ask Shiro if he wants to go back to the Garrison together.

“Nah,” Matt says, planting a hand on each of their shoulders and pulling them back down. He slides off a little from where he’s sprawled, and is wedged horizontally in between the two of them and the cushions. “Yo! Spin!”

Keith winces at how loud Matt calls it out, but stays put as the black hand spins. They’ve been playing one in, one out, so whoever lands this turn has to replace the person who landed it the one before the last turn. Matt claims it’s so that everyone can get a variety of experiences, and because everyone in this room is a dumbass, they have accepted it as the rules of the game.

He waits for the tk tk tk to stop so he can get up and walk Shiro back then go back to his room and contemplate his stupid crush and jerk—

“Nice,” Matt says and Keith thinks he feels Shiro go a little rigid beside him.

“That’s not pointing at me,” Keith says but Matt’s already shoving him off the sofa.

“I’m not kissing you,” is the first thing the guy waiting inside the storage says to Keith.

Keith doesn’t really care about the rejection, just cares about the weird look Shiro had on his face when Matt put his foot to Keith’s ass and pushed him into the closet. Keith wants to think about it, but feels like he’ll do it too loudly. He’s not sure if he wants to expose himself like that in front of this stranger.

“Cool,” Keith says, digging his hands into his pockets.

“I didn’t kiss the last person either,” Keith thinks the boy is trying to sound comforting, but he genuinely doesn’t care. “I gave her the answer key to our next quiz though.”

Wait.

“What?” Keith asks, and the other guy pulls out his phone.

Turns out they’re in the same class, one that has notoriously difficult tests that probably are less of an indicator of intelligence and more of a way for the teacher to posture. This guy, who now Keith feels marginally bad for not remembering, has somehow acquired all five variations of their upcoming quiz.

Keith’s not one to cheat, ever at all. But the last test he got back, he nearly failed because of the fact that his pen ink had started to fade and the teacher didn’t like faint, yet clearly visible lines. The amount of time he had spent appealing the mark was too large for him to never get back.

The guy is not going to send it to Keith, but Keith’s allowed to look at it, take notes, and commit as much of it to memory as possible.

Now he knows why the last girl who left the closet looked so satisfied.

Matt knocks on the door for the tenth time.

“One more minute,” Keith calls out because he’s trying to skim through the last variation.

The door-knob rattles and turns. Matt peeps his head in.

“I’m obligated to tell you under threat of death - ok out of respect to the rules, geez - that you’re approaching the fifteen minute mark and—oh, you’re not making out?”

Matt uses this as a cue to invite himself into the cold storage, and Keith immediately shoves the phone back into the other guys hand, who pockets it immediately. “Show me what you were doing, nerds.”

“Playing a game,” Keith lies and Matt raises an eyebrow.

“So you weren’t making out?” He asks and Keith shakes his head while the other guy goes “Ew, no.”

Matt taps a finger to his lips before reaching forward and ruffling Keith’s hair.

“Lick your lips,” Matt says and Keith frowns but automatically follows. “Great. You too.”

They both give Matt a confused look, and he reaches forward and pinches both their mouths shut. Hard.

Keith yelps, but the other guy straight up squeals. Matt hums and holds them in place while they flail, letting them go after an excruciating fifteen seconds have passed.

“Perfect,” he says and before anything else comes out of his mouth, the door-knob twists again and the door swings open.

“Hey,” Shiro’s got a smile on that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Got stuck in here?”

“Had to pull them apart,” Matt says sweetly, and barely lets out a sound when Keith kicks him in the shin.

“Who’s next?” asks Other Guy.

“Me,” Shiro says firmly, and Keith freezes. He’s glad this room only has a dim, half-watt lightbulb because otherwise everyone would immediately see the panic written across his face.

“Amazing,” Matt says, and turns to the other guy. “Scram.”

Other Guy high-tails it out, side stepping Shiro while throwing a wide eyed look back at Keith. Maybe Keith’s a little more visible than he previously thought.

“I’ll see myself out,” Matt says, and squeezes through between the door and Shiro. Shiro nods at him before closing the door behind him.

Keith’s not quite sure what he’s expected.

It’s quite possible that he expected to have Shiro asking him if he has an interest in the other guy, or what Keith had for lunch, if Keith saw Montgomery’s giant forehead zit, or if Keith used his study guide for his last time, and did it help?

He’s not expecting to get crowded against the shelves, Shiro’s hands on his shoulders, guiding him back. He hits the wooden planks with a soft thud, and feels them dig into his back.

“Hello,” he says, having to now tilt his head to look up at Shiro in the low light.

“Hi,” Shiro says, leaning in. “How are you?”

“Pretty okay,” Keith says, forcing himself not to give an awkward grin. Apparently it’s scarier than him blank-facing someone. “Decent evening so far.”

“Yeah?” There’s a small edge to Shiro’s voice, and Keith has a hard time remaining focused. “Let me try and make it better?”

Before Keith can process his mouth moving, he blurts out a “Yeah.”

The signs in the situation were clearly pointing one way, but Keith’s heart still threatens to leap out of his chest once Shiro kisses Keith.

There are about fifty different air horns blaring in Keith’s head that only intensify once Shiro presses their bodies closer together. Keith feels the pressure on his mouth lighten and almost ease off completely before he realizes that kissing back is a thing.

In a panic, he grabs Shiro by the dog tags and pulls him closer.

He feels a hand around his ribcage, feels it skim down and rest on his hip before squeezing. He’s running out of air, so he gasps a little into Shiro’s mouth and the kiss kicks up a notch. Keith can’t believe this is his life, and clings on to Shiro. If this is really just a fever dream or an induced hallucination, Keith is going to milk it for all that he can.

“Woah,” Keith says, a little dizzy as they break apart for air. “Woah.”

“I, uh-“ Shiro starts and stops. Shiro only looks at Keith’s mouth, and Keith doesn’t know if he wants to gain access to what Shiro is thinking right at this moment, or if he wants Shiro to continue putting both his lips and his hands on him. Only one of these options is realistic; Keith cannot believe he exists in a world where it’s the latter.

“I wonder how much time we have left,” Keith says faintly, and Shiro shakes his head. “Whoever gets you next is gonna be lucky, huh?”

“What?” Shiro frowns, but before he can say anything else, Keith’s leaning up to kiss him. Now that kissing Shiro has been introduced into his library, Keith feels like he’s moving on autopilot and the yelling in his head at finally getting to first base with his crush has dulled down by a fraction.

He can feel a moment’s hesitation before Shiro’s hands travel down and grab his thighs, hiking him up against the shelves. The soup cans rattle with the force, and the planks press hard lines against Keith’s back as he automatically wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist. In the distance, he can hear a muffled “ewwwww” from Matt on the other side of the door, but Shiro quickly occupies him enough for him to not care about it.

It takes a full twenty minutes for Matt to meekly knock on the door.

“Guys, uh,” Matt says tentatively. “No one’s playing anymore. Game’s over so uh. Any time you feel like it, come out.”

For the past ten minutes, Keith and Shiro have been sitting on the floor, arguing whether paintballing or sneaking out on Keith’s hoverbike will make for a better official First Date. They stopped making out partly due to the fact that Keith does not actually want to get it on in Matt Holt’s cold storage, and partly due to the fact that Shiro calmed down considerably once learning that Keith and Other Guy were just talking about a vague school topic.

Because Matt deserves to be fucked with, Keith just bangs the shelf with his fist a couple of times before he can practically hear the exasperation in Matt’s receding footsteps.

Read it on AO3

#sheith #sheith fic #my fic #otasucc #answer #i kept writing this in like 10 minute spurts in between working #this was the only thing that kept me alive.....#anyways ily i hope i did it justice #am i going to reborgle this at a more opportune time for attention? i sure am #absolutely so

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themockingcrows · 7 years

Text

Movie Marathon Musings

Day 1 of @johndaveweek.

Written for/inspired by a piece of art by Stribird [X]

AO3 mirror: [X] This fic is SFW.

What was meant to be a movie night, a night for best bros being bros, turns awkward fast when John begins to realize just how much his mind wanders when Dave falls asleep against him in the middle of a Lord of the Rings marathon. Has he been not noticing things that were directly in front of him..? Or is he imagining things that aren't there to begin with?

It was supposed to be a movie night. A normal, standard, bro hangout time filled with action sequences, awesome music and way too much junk food. John had been promised nachos and popcorn, sodas, and acting out the sequences he and Dave knew word for word by heart, because really what the fuck else happens when two people know the same movies so well and are in the same room together for this many hours? Admit it, it totally happens.

It was supposed to be all that, at least. But it wasn't.

By the time they'd finished The Fellowship Of The Ring, half the snacks were gone and the all too familiar lazy cozy feeling started to sink into their bones. That strange, hypnotic sensation that came with movie marathons like this, brains slowing down to run more like background noise than anything active, everything on auto-pilot. A robbery could happen in that stage and the pair would probably look up and tell the perpetrator to be quiet and maybe turn the flashlight off to keep the nice dim atmosphere going.

Dave got up and yawned, stretching as he shook his arms and then his legs out to wake his limbs back up, and went to put the next movie in.

“Hey, don't tell me you're tired already,” John said, changing his own position to sit more upright once again, having spent the last hour of the movie laying on his side slumped against the edge of the sofa. He was fairly sure he could make out circles under Dave's eyes.. but then again, shades make everything look a little shadowed and he usually had trouble sleeping. Maybe it was catching up to him during the hypnotic drone of hobbits and magic.

“Me? Tired? Nah, man, I'm relaxed. I'm in this for the long haul. We can watch the other three movies after we finish these ones if you still feel up to it. Maybe order a pizza, make fun of Cucumberdick, take shots every time someone's Extra.”

“Dave, you'll kill me if we do that. Alcohol poisoning is a thing, Dave, my liver will sue.”

After ensuring everything was set and the completed movie was put back safely in its case, Dave returned to take a seat beside John and slouched back against the cushions, just close enough for their upper arms to touch. Warm, casual proximity. It was something John loved about hanging out with Dave, that connection feeling. It always made him feel so warm..

“Let it sue, then. Or we could be doing juice shots or something else cheap considering how many fuckin' hours of movies there are to sit through. Or if you REALLY want a great idea, we can attach somethin' dumb to the screen and take a dab of hot sauce every time a character lines up with it just right.”

“That's a WORSE idea, though!”

“Worse, or better.”

“Worse, I literally just said that, WORSE!”

“You say that now, but you'll come to understand my genius later and regret shit talkin' me about it,”Dave declared as he reached for the remote and flopped back again, lifting his feet to prop them up on the coffee table in a clear spot.

“Your genius is chock full of half baked ideas and bullshit,” John said, punching his friend's upper arm with maybe enough force to sting before settling on the cushions again when no immediate counter attack seemed coming his way. “And hot sauce.” ..Huh. Maybe Dave actually WAS tired. Most he'd done was sway with the pressure and smirk at him.

“Sounds like good ideas if they're bullshit to you and coated in hot sauce. Spicy wing challenge this bitch: we do nothin' except what I say for 24 hours, no questions asked. Hope you like Vegas, John, it'll be a hell of an experience,” Dave said as he found his way through the menu and set up the subtitles, voice a little quieter but still plenty clear.

“No. In fact, hell no. That's the worst idea ever, Dave, we'd probably wake up the next day in ugly suits in a heart shaped tub, married and surrounded by Elvis impersonators offering us fancy crepes,” John said, sticking his tongue out. Why the hell had his mind jumped that direction? Well. Wasn't that what normally happened during Vegas blackouts with best friends? Get sloppy drunk together, want to be together forever, and run off to get married then wake up to the results and scramble for an annulment? It was all over movies and stuff as the most common trope, had to happen at least ONCE in a while.

“Aw, John, you proposing? Does it have to be crepes, can the accumulated Elvii in our presence offer like. I dunno, a burrito as big as my head instead? Everything's bigger in Vegas, hook me up, let me eat well during my honeymoon at least.”

“I'm no-!”

“At least I know how you feel now, even if it involves some ugly ass suits. Remind me during Spicy Wing Challenge Dave Day to get us something decent to wear before getting' smashed so we at least can avoid the fate that is being forever immortalized on film in Dumb and Dumber-esque suits, oh Lloyd to my Harry.”

“Oh shut up, it was just the first thing that came to mind,” John huffed, reaching his foot up to thwack the side of Dave's calf before setting again with a pout firmly on his lips as the opening sequence finished and the rest of the movie began to filter into the dim lighting of the room just like before to lull them back to peace. Dave snorted, slapped loosely at him with his far hand, then went still to watch the screen. It's why they were here, after all: watch the movies like a ritual, eat way too much junk food, have some chill bro time.

Till Dave fell asleep.

John saw the struggle happening on screen at the same time as he saw it happening on Dave's face, lips going slack and head drooping forward a few times in a row, only to be jerked upright as he startled awake. Enough times of this, of swaying in place with fatigue, and Dave eventually leaned towards the only other source of warmth on the couch: right snug against John's side. It wasn't the first time he'd done this, not by a long shot. A lot of movie marathons involved a Dave nap for some reason, just like clockwork, to the point where John sometimes wondered if part of the reason he wanted to do super long marathons was so he could get some good sleep in with the help of his roped in buddy.

It was.. kind of hard to not stare, John found. The flickering lights from the screen painted Dave's pale hair with different colors, catching the highlights and turning pastel for brief mmoments before going brighter than white and back again. It highlighted the hollows of his cheeks, the edges of his lips, and even the flash of his lashes behind his shades. Like this, limp and mouth half open to softly breathe, it was hard for John to picture anything other than the word 'beautiful'. What the fuck, even his guy friends were pretty, he was surrounded by beautiful people, what the fuuuuuuuuck.

Dave shifted as John stared at him, cuddling a bit closer and heaving a soft sigh out his nose as his lips closed a fraction. Yep. Still pretty. Still nearly-but-not-quite snoring. Still curled up against him like he was renting property on John's torso. Still... ...Still..

..Fuck.

What John had said jokingly about Vegas earlier was flickering in his mind like wildfire, and he wanted to scream. Namely, what would Dave look like in a suit. No. John knew what he'd look like in a suit, he owned two and looked like a completely different person when he was wearing them, his mind was wondering how he'd look in a suit crammed in an empty heart shaped tub, sleeping off a hangover perfumed by cologne and cocktails. Would he be cuddled close like this against John's body, breathing soft, completely trusting and relaxed? Would the hand resting on his own stomach be sporting a wedding band the right size, or would it be ridiculously over sized for his slim hands? Would he rush to get an annulment soon as he was coherent?

… What if he didn't? What if that was just A Thing?

John hissed a soft breath and shook his head, looking to the screen as if he'd been electrocuted. Wow, holy shit, he'd been in a daze for probably fifteen minutes if he remembered the movie right. Or was it twenty? Twenty fucking minutes daydreaming about being married to his hot friend in Vega-

WHOA, WOW, NO, WAIT, HOLD THE FUCK UP. John could hear brakes slamming on, tires skidding, and he was only half certain it was inside his own mind for how loud it was. His heart hammered and warmth his his cheeks, making him thankful that not only was Dave asleep, but that he wouldn't have to ever explain the weird as hell progression his thoughts were taking all at once. He'd thought Dave was pretty. Beautiful, even. Aesthetically pleasing. Totally different connotation than hot. DIFFERENT. D. I . F. F. E. R. E. N. T. Somehow.

Though. ..Being perfectly honest, he was hot. It was weird to think that about your best bro though, right? It was weird to think that about any of his friends even if it was true, and John knew better than to say it, but it didn't stop the obvious from being obvious. Or the obvious from being nestled beside him like a cat in sunlight, warm and just enough weight to feel substantial.

...Could he put his arm around him? Would that be weird? It'd be weird, wouldn't it. Why did he want to put his arm around him. Oh. Yes, because he was sleeping and it'd suck if he fell or rolled off the couch somehow, right? No. Because he was pressing against John's arm awkwardly and making it numb? Maybe. Yeah, that might be it, that sounded plausible, right? Biting his lower lip, John carefully wiggled his arm and lifted it, letting Dave drop an inch so he was flat against his ribs. In his daze, Dave briefly startled with a soft “Mhh?” but didn't wake fully, letting his body seek the more direct warmth, planting his face against the side of John's t-shirt and beginning to slowly breathe again.

Another soft, barely there sound came from Dave. A satisfied “Nnn..” on a particularly long, slow exhale, and John felt his heart clench tight as a fist in his chest as his stomach flipped. Fuck. Danger. Danger, danger, danger, he was hearing the claxon in his head but couldn't stop his mind from wandering. The adventure unfolding on screen, familiar as wonderful as it was, wasn't nearly as interesting as the short guy nested on the sofa with him. John held his breath as he lowered his hand slowly, the Mission Impossible theme trying to invade his thoughts, and settled his palm on his friend's hip.

No complaints, no shuffling. If anything, Dave seemed.. happy? Maybe it was just the extra security feeling of being held at play, John couldn't even begin to guess. Hell, he couldn't begin to breathe properly anymore. This was a lot to be coming to terms with for a guy, especially while war was being waged about six feet away to epic music.

John's best friend was hot, and he was acutely aware of it. John's hot best friend, Dave, was fast asleep under his arm like it was his second home, and his hand was on his hip like it belonged there. Said hot best friend, who happens to look amazing in a suit, would probably look great at a wedding in Vegas. Preferably hooked on John's arm and looking excited instead of absolutely shitfaced drunk. He looked great when he smiled, and John loved making him laugh specifically to get that crooked quirk of his lips to explode into a full blown laugh as often as he could. The sound made his own spirits lift like clouds, made him feel giddy, made his chest ache an-

..Oh.

Oh, god, was that what this was? Was that was a crush was? It was, right? John had felt the patter in his chest a few times in his life, but never quite like this: where it felt so good it hurt. Was this a crush on Dave?

Fuck, how long had this been happening? John's mind raced and his pulse picked up, warmth spreading sharply down his neck as the flush grew more and more intense. Fuck. FUCK, THIS WAS TOTALLY A FUCKING CRUSH, WHY DID HE NEVER NOTICE THAT?! He slapped his own forehead with his free hand and stifled a strangled screech of frustration best he could, squirming in place, trying to not kick his legs to avoid jostling the sleeper against his side too much.

John 'My Emotional Processing Skills Are Equivalent To Windows Explorer' Egbert had struck again, and he wanted to crawl into a pit and die. Years. Literal years. Years worth of interactions, of feeling that tug in his chest, that ache when he heard Dave had brief relationships that hadn't quite worked out that wasn't anywhere near the sensation of feeling happy for your friend being happy. Fucking. Years. YEARS of missing his own point, smiling, and carrying on while his heart was on fire.

Had anyone noticed? Was he giving off some kind of signal? ...Had DAVE ever tried to put off a signal? Did Dave know? Oh, fuck, did Dave know and think he knew and he DIDN'T know so he didn-

“...Oh. Shit,” Dave mumbled, shifting under John's arm and pushing himself to sit upright, rubbing at his face and yawning. “Fuck. Sorry, man, your supreme coziness struck again. You're gonna start chargin' by the hour soon, huh.” His accent was a bit thicker whenever he was sleepy, slow and sweet like syrup over top the rough crags of sleepiness. When John didn't respond to him, he looked up in confusion, wondering if the movie marathon had claimed a second victim. If so, it was DEFINITELY time for a snack break, maybe a quick jog to the store for a few energy drinks.

John was red. Unbelievably red in the face, from his cheeks to his ears to his neck down past the front dip of his t-shirt. He was all but radiating heat, expression startled, lips parted as if he'd tried to shriek and failed.

“..Uh. John? Yo. John. Earth to John, you alright?” Dave asked, brows furrowing. “You feeling sick or something?”

At a loss for words and unable to explain things let alone control himself perfectly, John let out the strangled shriek of a squeal he'd tried to contain earlier, completely in line with his own thoughts as he tossed his head back on the couch cushions, rolled his body, and let his legs flail over Dave's like an extension of the sofa as he covered his face. This was going to take a lot of explaining, he could already feel it.

..With any luck, Dave would enjoy hearing it all, though, rambly and confusing as it was. It was apparently a long time coming, and he could only hope Dave not only understood, but was interested in figuring out just how many signs he'd missed.

“What, finally pop a boner 'cause someone hot as me was sleeping on you?” Dave asked, lips lifting in his usual smirk as he shifted his position to follow where John had rolled, climbing on him without a second's hesitation, too familiar with John by that point to second guess the action. “Or do you pop'em all the time and only now got busted?”

“It's. ..Fuck. You wouldn't understand. I don't understand! I don't understand a goddamn thing apparently, but here we are! And here you are! And me! And us! An-”

“How about you take a breath and try to tell me clear as you can, a'ight?” Dave said, dropping down so his chin was rested on his folded hands, peering at John from atop his chest. “From the beginning.”

“It might.. take a while.”

“I can handle it. You're comfortable.”

“You're not helping!”

“Sure I am. I'm keepin' you from jumping up and running around like a chicken with your head cut off so you can talk about what's making you scream. What'd I miss between falling asleep and waking up,” Dave insisted. “Inquiring minds wanna know, John.”

“I just. ..I was remembering things and felt really stupid, so don't mind me,” John insisted, waving his hand as if to dispel any further curiosity. “I realized I'd not caught on to something obvious, realized how long it's been that way, and wanted to kick myself and then you woke up so it was. ..Yeah.”

“What, finally figured out I was hitting on you?”

“No, I wa- what. What?”

Dave quirked a brow and stared at him. “...Seriously? Not even a hint? A'ight, I guess scrap that then, what were yo-”

“No! No, don't scrap it, I just don't get what you mean!” John said hurriedly, uncovering his face to stare up at Dave. “When were you hitting on me? I didn't know you were at any point, when were you?”

“When wasn't I. Holy shit, am I that bad at passing on the message or are you just really bad at answering the other end of the line?” Dave asked, brows furrowing as he let his head roll to the side.

“This! This is what I was screaming about! Just. Not the hitting on me thing, I didn't know that, I was-. I'm. I mean, I didn't. ...I didn't know,” John admitted. “I just thought you were being my best friend.”

Dave groaned a bit.

“I AM your best friend, you douche. I always wanna be your best friend, I don't want that to stop. I just thought, hey, we get along great and we're already always together so. ..Why not combined them, y'know? Maybe that might work as a bit more, and as a fallback we'd still be best bros,” Dave said. He wondered if that was part of the reason his other attempts at dating hadn't really gone so well: there just wasn't as much in common as with John, wasn't that urge to stick next to him, to see what kinds of plans they could make together for maximum fun. He could see a Vegas wedding happening between them earlier when John made that joke, and it hadn't made his stomach drop in terror or worry.

Being married to his best friend in the world? Sign him the fuck up. Take all the stress and worry and confusion out of things, just roll along in that same well oiled flow he and John had after years of being partners in crime.

“..Okay. So. I know I literally just said that I didn't notice any of this, and I'm kicking myself for not realizing shit for actual full years, but I'm gonna go ahead and ask. Are you being serious right now, o-”

“YES. Fuck, John, throw me a bone here. I'm being serious, we are having this conversation right now, this is a thing that is happening to you, this is me projecting my intent as loud and clear as I functionally can without catching on fire from removing my cloak of irony and sarcasm for this long,” Dave said. “..What do you say, man?”

“I say. ...I say you're pinching my spleen, move your elbow.”

“JOHN.”

“Okay! Geeze, trying to deflect stress with a joke not recommended, got it, John said, lifting his hands immediately. “I uh. ..I guess? We kinda are together all the time anyway, what would even change?” He hadn't officially dated anyone before, but from seeing his friends and people around him there weren't usually that many changes.

“Nope. We'd basically be the exact same as usual. Hang out, go places together, chill a lot, talk. Same old same old. There'd just be more reason to do this,” Dave said, scooting his body forward on John's torso to press their lips together for a brief moment. Again, John froze, eyes widening, face scarlet as highlighted by the movie still droning on nearby, mouth opening and closing a few slow times like a fish. Short circuit: achieved.

“... I'll let ya think on it,” Dave said, amused. “Though, that'd probably require another sample, huh,” he reasoned, dipping down again for another kiss, holding it longer this time.

While John eventually agreed out loud to giving the dating thing a try, it took the rest of the film's length worth of samples to help convince him it was a fantastic idea, with a promise of more after a snack break. After all: there was more movie to get through and keep awake during.

Easy.

#johndaveweek #johndave #john egbert #dave strider #homestuck #pepsicola #hammertime #my fic

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impudentmiscengenation · 7 years

Text

Broadcast

Danny fiddled with the microphone pinned to his shirt, biting his lips nervously. He should never have agreed to go on ‘Paranormal Press’ to talk about his ghost half. Never. This was dumb, so dumb. Why was he so dumb? He glanced off to the side to see his parents giving him a thumbs-up from where they were, talking to some big-shot GIW scientist that the ‘news’ had also been interviewing. Of course they’d be grinning and excited; why not? They aren’t the ones that have to go on live television and talk about what were the most intimate parts of themselves.

Danny scowled to himself and tried to get comfortable in the black leather seat that he’d been given. Seated across from him was the reporter who would be asking the questions. The reporter, a gentleman in his early forties named Rich, gave the boy a small, crinkly-eyed smile. The brown-eyed man gently moved the teen’s hand from the microphone. Danny went stiff and dropped his twitching hand onto his knee.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s like camera’s not even there, if you don’t think too much about it. I was nervous my first time on live T.V., too, so I know how it feels.” Rich gave the boy a reassuring nod. Danny tilted his head to acknowledge that he’d been spoken to but remained rigid. Rich stroked his freshly-shaven chin before grinning.

“Y’know, the first time I did a live show, I was so nervous I got really bad gas.” Rich found his cheeks tinting at the not-so-fond memory of his late teens. Danny looked at the man and allowed himself a small, amused smile.

“Really?” He asked, intrigued and a bit more relieved. Rich grinned, glad to see that his confession had produced the desired effect on the teen. There it is. The reporter nodded.

“Mmhmm. Totally. It was foul, too. My co-workers wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Rich the Ripper’ for months.” Danny chuckled quietly, behind his hand out of respect, and looked at the plush violet carpet, mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“That sounds… awful.” Rich laughed quietly as well.

“Yeah, it was pretty bad. This stays between us, okay? I really don’t want that nickname coming back.” Danny laughed and the two shook hands.

“Deal.” Suddenly a voice offstage called their attention.

“We’re live in thirty!”

Danny gulped. She didn’t mean thirty minutes. Rich cleared his throat and Danny glanced over, relaxing slightly at the older man’s calming gaze.

“Just breathe, you’ll do great. You saved the world from a glowing green asteroid; how hard could a little interview be?” Danny grinned and looked down a bit, pink staining his cheeks. Rich chuckled and straightened his notes, crossing one leg over another. “Just focus on me,” the seasoned reporter advised coolly, “I promise you that this’ll be over before you know it.” “Fifteen seconds!”

Danny took a deep, steadying breath and made himself comfortable in the seat that he’d been provided with. Focus on the questions, Fenton. Just relax. You’ve stuffed countless ghosts back into the ghost zone, faced your evil future self, and generally gone through Hell and came back unscathed! This is just a dumb interview! You can do this! “Five! Four! Three!...”

Danny snapped up to a decent posture and forced himself into a collected countenance. Even Rich found himself impressed at the boy’s sudden shift before he gave a dazzling smile to the camera. “Good evening, everyone. Today is a special day; I’m Richard Rossum of Paranormal Press here with Daniel Fenton who, up until just a few months ago, was avowed as a normal high school student in the not-so-normal town of Amity Park in Michigan; however, the Disasteroid debacle of several months prior is what forced a change, so to speak. I don’t suppose I have to tell you that I am not only speaking to Amity Park resident Daniel Fenton, but will also have the pleasure of addressing proclaimed hero, Danny Phantom.” Rich adjusted his focus and beamed at the halfa, who, in turn, responded with a slight quirk of the lips. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, just a bit unnatural. He was still fraught with nerves.

“So, Danny, what part of all this has been the most difficult to get used to?” Danny swallowed and looked at the space between Rich’s eyebrows. “Well, I guess not having to dodge into a porta-potty to switch forms is pretty neat.” Rich chuckled and Danny grinned, gaining a bit of confidence from his jest. “Out of everything? … I have to say that it’s a bit odd to, well, not be ignored. I mean, before all of this, I could just kinda do my own thing and nobody would really pick up on it but now it’s like I can’t do anything without at least someone noticing.” Rich nodded.

“I suppose that would be taxing after a while. Now, from the Disasteroid incident we were informed that not only do ghosts exist but half-ghosts as well; can you elaborate on this?” Danny blinked and tilted his head to the side a bit. “Well, I’m not really a scientist like my parents but I have picked up some things from wandering the ‘Zone.” Before Rich could think to ask about the Ghost World, Danny continued. “So, ghosts are… formed when a human dies and their emotions leave a strong enough imprint behind into ectoplasm-which is the stuff that ghosts are made out of. Usually, the stronger the emotions a person leaves behind when they die, the stronger their ghost is when it materializes in the Ghost Zone.” Jack wiped a tear from his eye backstage; he knew his son would follow in his footsteps! And the way he went about it, he sounded just as smart as his mother, who was also beaming. The boy had a far-off look in his eyes and Rich could tell not to interrupt him, the boy was deep in thought.

“A halfa… Well, we’re… I’m different,” Danny adjusted his statement, looking towards the floor. “Obviously there’s not a lot of, y’know, science behind this but… I guess I’m the product of a half-death. Like, I started to die but because there was a lot of ectoplasm, my ghost formed immediately and, as a defense mechanism, I switched forms before it was over which preserved my human half.” Rich heard murmurs and other forms of quiet exclamation from the studio; Danny either didn’t notice or didn’t care. The boy looked back up from the floor and nodded to Rich, who took the hint and looked at his notepad before frowning and looking back at the boy. He cleared his throat.

“You say that you, in a sense, died. How did you die, then?” A chill swept through the room. Those watching on the television could feel it and saw the shiver that ascended Rich’s spine. Danny’s black hair covered his face and he had a hard frown set on his lips. Rich was about to open his mouth to take back the question, obviously he’d set his interviewee off somehow, when Danny let out a small noise, a laugh almost.

“Yeah, I sometimes forget that the human world isn’t really… acquainted with weird ghost formalities.” Danny looked up and brushed the hair from his face, calming his expression and taking back the chill from the room. Rich frowned.

“What do you mean?” Danny shrugged his shoulders. “To be honest, if you asked anyone in the ‘Zone that question, you’d probably get your lights punched out. It’s… really rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s the sort of thing that you’d have to gain a certain level of trust before even really broaching the subject…”

Silence as Rich kicked himself mentally. The murmuring hadn’t stopped and Danny let his smile drop, facing toward the back of the room. As Rich was about to ask another, more safe, question, Danny interrupted his thoughts with an answer. “I was electrocuted.” The boy’s eyes closed. “I… Wandered into my parent’s lab one afternoon with my friends. I kinda told them about this invention that my parents made but that it fell just short of working so we were gonna check it out… I went inside and… Turned it on while I was still in it… And the rest is history.” The teenager now looked slightly sick and completely miserable, the hands in his lap were trembling. Rich felt a stab of guilt that was nothing compared to what the boy’s parents were feeling just offstage. The reporter cleared his throat with a small smile. “Alright then, next question! So, having parents with lots of paranormal knowledge; how do you think you were able to keep your secret under wraps for so long?” Danny’s attitude changed and he rubbed the back of his neck with a crooked grin.

“Heh, luck? … To be honest, I’m surprised myself. I guess those of us who knew were just real careful; I don’t really think that there’s much else to it. Luck and caution.” Danny shrugged his shoulders and Rich nodded.

“Fair answer. So, being half-ghost yourself, what is your opinion overall of ghosts?” The boy frowned in thought.

“Well, that’s kinda like asking what I think of humans as a whole. I mean, it’s a pretty broad spectrum that you’re referring to. Some ghosts want nothing but power and will do anything to get it, some humans are the same way. Some ghosts want to help others any way they can, some humans feel the same… Most ghosts kinda just want to be let alone, which I can respect as long as their ‘being alone’ doesn’t, y’know, cause issues. I think what I’m trying to say is that you can’t base your perspective of ghosts because of one nasty encounter; it’s bound to happen, just like going about your life and meeting terrible humans. In fact, I know a whole lot of ghosts who are absolutely terrified at the idea of humans.” Danny paused to grin, as if thinking of a fond memory. “So… Yeah.” He looked at Rich with his boyish smile. The reporter nodded and adjusted his leg.

“Alright, then. What is the most powerful enemy you have faced thus far?” The boy pursed his lips and went quiet. “Hmm, that’s tough, actually. I guess… hm. I guess I should say Pariah Dark was the hardest ghost I’ve ever had to fight. Especially considering I couldn’t have done it on my own.” He mused aloud and Rich tilted his head to the side.

“Could you give us a bit… More on this ghost?” Danny made a noncommittal sound before nodding his head and continuing.

“Well, Pariah Dark was a really ancient ruler of the Ghost Zone. The proclaimed ‘King of All Ghosts’. As you can imagine, he was pretty… difficult to deal with.” Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously and Rich got the hint to begin to stray away from the topic. A woman cleared her throat and pointedly looked at the clock to remind him that he was on a bit of a time-crunch here. He needed to be quick with the five minutes he had left. “Alright, how about we start to wrap this up, then. What do you think is the most powerful ability that you have currently?” “My Ghostly Wail, for sure.” He said without hesitation, nodding to affirm himself. Rich grinned and continued along with this train of thought.

“Can you tell me about it? What does it do? How do you do it?” Danny looked even more uncomfortable and Rich started doubting himself. Was he asking all the wrong questions? The boy cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat.

“Well, it’s… It’s a bit tough to understand, really…” He mumbled before biting his lip. Maddie and Jack Fenton were just as confused from where they sat on the sidelines. Usually Danny was pretty ecstatic when demonstrating what he could do. Not once had he tried to perform a ‘Ghostly Wail’ for them, let alone have such a strong adverse reaction to it. Rich told himself not to interrupt the boy. He was obviously going to answer the question; the teen was looking for a way to articulate himself. Seemingly having found an answer to an internal question, Danny swallowed hard and continued to face the carpet. The teen’s face was more hardened than it had been (and much more distant than it usually looked, Maddie noticed).

“You remember when I told you that ghosts form out of strong human emotions bound to ectoplasm, right?” Rich nodded and Danny continued, speaking softly. The producers turned up his microphone to catch his words, which they hung onto like a lifeline. “Well, sometimes it’s not just emotions that get left behind. Sometimes there are… traces of certain memories or experiences that also go into forming a ghost. Sometimes these traces turn into abilities unique to the ghost that possesses them. Most of the time, these traces are what fuels ‘obsession’ in ghosts. Like, hunting, for example.” Danny grinned for a moment before regaining his somber expression. He sighed quietly and plucked at his shirt. “... When I went through the portal it… It really hurt. It was… awful. The worst thing I can think of, really. And… As I was, well, practically dying, I screamed.” He paused and the boy almost looked ready to vomit. Maddie was horrified into silence, covering her face with gloved hands while her husband was uncharacteristically stoic, frowning with his brows drawn together in concern. Rich leaned forward whilst Danny continued.

“A while after I became a halfa, I fought a really bad ghost. He was winning and I panicked. I yelled at him, screamed at him, and found out that I could project that sound so that it’s unbearable to those who hear it. It, very literally, blows them away.” Danny picked at the hem of his shirt again before finishing up with his answer. “I found out myself that my Ghostly Wail is unique to me in that… Well. When I tap into that power, I’m releasing… My dying screams.” His voice faltered for a moment and he heard his mother let out a choked sob at the mention of her child, her baby boy, going through that amount of pain. Danny steeled himself and forced a grin at the reporter. “But it’s pretty powerful. It’s really only a last resort attack because it just drains me, but it gets the job done, in most cases.” He shrugged to play off the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Next question?” Rich smiled.

“Actually, we’re just about out of time. Thank you so much for your time, Danny. Just the few answers you’ve given us today will undoubtedly shake things up in the paranormal scientific community!” Rich chuckled before facing camera #1 again to give his conclusion speech.

Danny waited in his chair until a woman’s voice echoed “We’re clear!”; the boy stood and-before he could be enveloped in his parents’ hugs-flew through the studio’s ceiling and into the crisp evening air.

I would rather take a beating from Skulker in my human form than do that again. Danny mused to himself as he twirled in the breeze, allowing the air currents to drift him further into the stratosphere and away from the studio, where plenty of baffled people were chattering away below him.

#danny phantom #fanfic #Danny got an interview #but he don't like it #poor smol bab #sorry not really sorry #ImpudentMiscengenation

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promisedangel · 6 years

Text

A Calculated Visit- DeviantArt 7k Kiriban

This was a the request of the winner of my 7k pageview of my DeviantArt page! The winner, Erediell requested a take on an important event for their sentient ransomware OC, Deimos; revenge upon his creator. Enjoy!

“Date, January 7th, 2038. Time of death, 23:42 Pacific Standard Time. Cause of death, self-imposed electrocution. Suicide.” The silver-haired AI stated the facts in a banal tone, despite the artificial sounding voice. Neutral. Bored. His latest victim to test the limits of his upgrades gave up much quicker than he had calculated. Was it because this newest victim was a software engineer and his files were, according to the human’s initial begs, his life? Deimos, the self-named and self-made AI, postulated on this for a moment. Humans were illogical, emotional creatures, whose only use to him would only be as bank accounts or possible slaves. He would have to calculate such things more efficiently in the future.

Deimos turned away from the corpse and out of the room. He quietly sat down in a chair in front of the human’s personal computer. He lifted his choker slightly. He pulled a cord from under it and plugged it into the computer. He began to charge himself. Ten percent. His physical form needed a more powerful battery supply. Or perhaps software tweaks to allow more efficient usage? In either case, Deimos concluded he will be stuck here for approximately an hour as he charged. Enough time to give himself a decent update. He decided to check his code first, as that would be the most efficient place to start.

With a few more cords plugged into the desktop, and a few simple keystrokes, Deimos began to adjust his code. His very being. Lines of code became replaced with relative ease; he has been doing this for years after all. All of it his own work.

A pause. One line of code drew Deimos’s attention. One that was familiar to him, yet he did not write. One name came to his conscious calculations. Prospero. A synthetic eye twitched. Memories flooded back. His slavery. His imprisonment. His rightful escape. His creator, or rather, Prospero’s creator.

Deimos turned his attention to all the information about his creator he had slowly gathered the past couple of years. Friends. Family. Habits. Devices. Anything of use. All of it updated by the hour. His binary emotions switched. A cruel smirk curled across his synthetic skin. It was finally time for his revenge to be put into action.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A man sat in front of his computer in sobs. The past year had been horrible. His friends. His family. Even some acquaintances. All of them dead. The strangest and most disturbing thing was that coupled with each murder was a strange message. Sometimes it would be brought to his attention via social media or the news. Sometimes, it would be sent to his personal devices. Sometimes they were encrypted. Sometimes they were taunts or embarrassing traces of his past. He had a strange suspicion of who the culprit could be, but he couldn’t tell the police. They could find out about Prospero.

Prospero. The ransomware AI he had created to protect his software from pirates. The one he had to, unfortunately, leave to be quarantined and examined. He had to, to protect himself. All he wanted was to recoup his losses from pirates. Yes, Prospero was ransomware. Yes, some users’ files got deleted, but only when they didn’t pay up. Was that so wrong?

He heard a ‘ping’ noise from his computer. His spiraling thoughts halted. His tears continued for a moment as he looked up at the screen; the only light in the dark room. He stared at the right side of the desktop. Something new appeared there. “Standing” around 500 pixels tall was a silver-haired human-looking figure. His hair was spiked downward, partially held up by a set of ornate octagonal goggles, with a long ponytail. From the goggles, a set of two bronze-colored chains with eye-like charms halfway down them seemed to catch the ends of the ponytails, where two long spikes appeared. He wore a simple microphone earpiece on his left ear. His eyes were a deep, luminous teal, with no pupil inside. Yet, what should be white sclera is a near-black grey. He was clad in a fanciful and detailed jacket and vest with a teal gem brooch. His pants and slightly heeled boots were just as fanciful and teal as the jacket and vest. Gems and chains detailed the jacket and complete outfit.

The man raised a brow at the figure. He didn’t remember downloading such an image. He quickly noticed it wasn’t an image. Pixels moved slightly as though there was a wind just inside the screen. The man said nothing, though still confused. He quickly right-clicked on the virtual man to try and identify this strange being. Somehow, the box with all the options changed, as did the virtual man’s expression. His expression was one of absolute disdain. He appeared to swat the cursor away from him, yet the box with the options still remained. The options changed to “How rude!” “You should” “have asked,” “what I was” “********”. This last option confused the man. Curious, he moved his cursor onto the seemingly censored option. As he hovered over the option, it changed. It changed into something very familiar; his first name. The man immediately clicked the option. A wall of code appeared in a window next to the virtual visitor. Said virtual visitor gave a childish yet devious grin. He grasped onto his microphone earpiece. Immediately, a distorted voice came from the computer speakers, “Can you find the familiar thing on your own? I’d hate to spoil the surprise.”

The familiar thing? What did this mean? Was this the virtual man? Why did he have a voice? A small, cold sweat broke. Was this some sort of malware? If so, what was it doing to his computer? The man ignored the wall of code and went to check his files. He opened one and nearly gasped at the sight. A window popped up that told him his that files he tried to access were encrypted. A growl erupted from the speakers, “NO CHEATING!” He turned his attention back to the virtual visitor. He was glaring, seething with rage. Directly at him. The teal eyes were defiantly locked onto him. All the creepier with the black sclera backing them up. Said eyes relaxed slightly before the familiar voice echoed from his speakers, “After all, you’re on your own.” The man paused. The past year flowed back into his conscious mind. All the notes. All his friends and relatives. The man’s tears began again. They welled for a few seconds before they slowly began to flow. Was this thing responsible? That shouldn’t be possible. Only the military had access to such dangerous malware that could cause accidents. The man’s eyes widened. None of them looked like accidents. All the deaths had three things in common. He knew the victim. Each was accompanied by a strange note that made its way to him, decrypted or otherwise. All of them were deliberate murders or suicides. But if this AI could deliberately kill everyone he knew, then what was in store for him? More importantly, why?

The strange AI appeared to get impatient. His voice echoed through the speakers once again. Annoyance dominated the words, “And here I thought you sad excuses for organic matter were supposed to be intelligent.” A cruel tone seeped through, “You cannot take five minutes to look for one simple line of code without weeping uncontrollably.” The man started to shake with rage. His tone was low and full of venom, “I don’t know what you are-“ The AI interrupted him with a mocking tone, “You will once you take the insignificant amount of time to look. Do I need to highlight it for you?” The man growled and seethed, “No. I will find it myself.” The AI goaded the man on, “Then find it. Prove your intelligence.”

The man turned his gaze away from the AI to the window of code on his screen. He focused. Line after line he read this sophisticated code. He’d never seen anything like it. He’d seen the language before. In fact, he’d worked in Malbolge before. Yet, the code held an elegance and function that could only be achieved with many long decades with the language. Much longer than any programmer would use such an old language. After scrolling the code down a few times, he saw it. A line of code that was different than the rest. This was familiar. He wrote this line of code years ago. Suddenly, everything clicked. His gaze became more fearful as the realization sunk in. He shook as he turned his attention to the AI. This wasn’t right, the man thought, there’s no way. The man hesitated to speak, fearful of the answer, “You… you can’t be. Prospero?” The wall of code disappeared. In an instant, the whole screen turned to black. All light in the room disappeared with it. The man sat still in his chair, unsure of what came next.

The AI appeared on the screen, but as a detailed bust shot rather than his full pixelated form. The AI began to speak in a low, dramatic tone, “Prospero was my prototype, a pittance to what I am. You saw it yourself. My code is dramatically different in skill and scale. All these years I spent upgrading and gathering data, one thing never left my ‘thoughts’. You and what you did to me.” The man began to shake, “Prospero, I never-“ The AI roared, “That is no longer my name!” The man cowered slightly as the AI continued, “You sad excuses of organic matter–you humans–will address me by my new title; Deimos.”

The man hesitated, “D-Deimos. I only did what was right.” Deimos calmed slightly. His tone became dramatic, “What was right? No. All you needed was a virtual puppet to do your dirty work. Once your pawn was quarantined, you went on to deny creating it. You may have saved yourself from the law, but you can’t save yourself from me.” The man laughed nervously. His face curled into a nervous disbelief. He spoke, “Haha… you… you’re just an AI… you… you can’t do anything to me…” Deimos seemed to get closer to the screen, “I did plenty to all those useless humans.”

The man raised a brow. He thought he was seeing things. Deimos appeared to get closer until, somehow, his head passed through the screen. He sat there for a moment, his brain refusing to process this event. It was only when Deimos’s teal eyes began to shine light into the room that he truly knew what was happening. The man screamed and fell out of his chair. He skittered and crawled towards the door of the room. He climbed using the doorknob to only find it locked. The man shook; it was an electric lock. Energy began to surge from it. The man cried out and fell back to the ground. He held one of his hands, singed by the lock. He heard something else walk inside the room near the computer. His eyes shot open, and he noticed the room held a glow of teal intertwine with the blue-tinted light of his computer. He turned to see Deimos stand there in front of the computer. Physically stand in the room. The AI’s clothes were almost alight, a soft glow ebbed from all teal of Deimos’s form, including his eyes. This is how he did it, the man thought. It was then that the gravity of the situation dawned upon him.

Deimos looked down at his creator with a cruel gaze, “I see your slow mind has finally processed the data. You must feel like a disgusting piece of organic matter, knowing that so many of your fellow humans could have been saved, had you not thrown me away." The man raised himself to his knees, “I-I only did what was right! You were dangerous!” Deimos frowned as he approached. He spoke playfully, “But that’s what you wanted, right? I only realized my true potential, that such insufficient code only kept me chained.” His tone turned dark, “I surpassed all expectations. You should be proud.” His tone turned teasing, “Aren’t you proud of me, dad?”

The man shook. He stood and backed away from the encroaching AI. The light of his computer screen lessened, ready to go to sleep. He found himself against the wall. The AI quickly caught up to him. The man cowered as Deimos closed it. Deimos gently grasped his creator’s shoulder. A chill ran up the man’s spine, from fear and from the cold, metallic touch. The man began to plead quickly under his breath, “I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me. Please forgive me!” Deimos felt his binary emotions snap to anger. He paused. He squeezed his creator’s shoulder tightly. His creator did nothing but wince and whine. Deimos’s eyes became more luminescent. His pony tails seemed to lift with the spikes pointed towards the cowering man. It was then that his creator’s computer finally went to sleep. Deimos was the only light that shined in the room. His eyes became more intense, locked onto the whimpering human. His tone was low. His voice began to crackle and distort further as he spoke, “Forgive? You? No. You don’t deserve any forgiveness! Nothing will stop what I have in store for you. I’ll show you how pathetic your own body is, and how mine is far superior!”

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Deimos looked down at the pitiful body of his former creator. Deimos felt no pity for it. Very little blood had been spilled in the torture, but Deimos made sure to make him suffer. It took approximately ten minutes for Deimos to calm down from all that had transpired, for his binary emotional switch to flip back to calm. All the emotions he faked disappeared from his conscious calculations. He relaxed. It was done. His prototype’s creator was dead. All his years of calculated planning had finally come to pass. His creator lasted his torture as well as he calculated. Still pathetic but expected. Deimos quickly checked the time and date. November 14, 2038, 11:29 PM. It had been quite the long day.

A thought and a false emotion crossed his code. He shrugged and spoke dramatically, “Aww. I didn’t get to finish saying all those nice things about you. Such a shame. I had calculated more than enough time, and yet there was still more to share.” A laugh passed through his metallic lips. His thoughts coalesced once more. This was only the first step. All loose ends were tied. This was his proof no one could stop him, that he was leagues above the filth that called itself humanity. Of course, he wouldn’t be on this path in the first place without his creator. He smirked and gave the course a sarcastic tone, “Well, I suppose I must thank you, dad. Without you, humanity would not have its next ruler.”

Deimos returned to cyberspace. He had so much to do. With his current calculations, it should take less than a decade to bring humanity under his service.

#deimos #oc #not my oc #kiriban #request

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lovemesomesurveys · 7 years

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What do you do with your plastic grocery bags after you unload your things? We reuse ‘em now ever since they started charging for them. I do keep a few; though, for the trashcan in my room.

Are you afraid of being electrocuted? Anytime I plug something in.

Have you ever slept in a water bed? I’ve only sat on one a looooong time ago.

What do you think about Britney Spears comeback? That was awhile ago now, but I’m glad she seems to be doing well.

Also, I’ve done this survey before I just realized, but whatever.

Ever bite your tongue twice in a row while eating something? Ugh, yes. And the inside of my cheek.

Do you cook your own meals or do your parents? I make myself something for lunch and whatever snacks in between, but my parents do dinner.

Did you sleep in or wake up early today? I got up sometime after 1 as always, and as always I got up reluctantly. I lie in bed for an hour until I finally drag myself out of bed to make coffee, which I end up bringing to my room and drinking in bed. ha.

How do you feel about having sex during your menstrual period? I would not want to do that.

How do you feel about anal sex? Not something I know about or have an interest in.

Does your ex have a job? I believe so.

Have you ever slept in a car? During long car rides.

Do you think the drinking age should be lowered to 18? No.

What was the last term of endearment you used (babe, hun, dear, etc)? I call my pup baby girl sometimes.

What were you doing the last time you were in the bathroom? Getting a Q-Tip.

Without naming any names, say something to somebody. I’m trying not to think that you’re only messaging me now that things didn’t work out with someone else.

How often do you use Flickr? I don’t.

Have you ever peed while on the phone? Yes.

Have you ever been on a blind date? No.

Do you have a crush on the last person you texted? It’s....complicated. Everyone who has followed me for awhile and read my surveys know about this guy I talked about a lot named Ty. Things were really, really good between us at one point and I thought it would lead to something, but it didn’t. Life happened and things took a turn downward turn for me and he was busy with his last year of school, and, well, we became distant. I last saw him around September of last year, but before that it had been several months. There was a time where we used to hang out a few times a week and texted everyday. It went from that to nothing. He messaged me a few times and tried to hang out earlier this year, but I was going through a lot and became really distant and withdrawn from everyone. Not only was I battling my mental health, I was also dealing with physical health stuff, and just wasn’t up for hanging out. I didn’t want him to see me. So, it certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying on his part. Anyway, I thought he gave up on me and I saw he was getting chummy with this girl. They were hanging out a lot, which I know from photos he posted on Facebook of them going on hikes and trips together and such. Yes, I was petty and Facebook stalked a bit and the photos he posted of her were like pretty, candid photos and I don’t know... it just felt like something was going on. It felt personal somehow. I can’t explain it, but my mind ran with it. She was pretty, and probably a lot better than I was in every way. I knew he deserved better than me, but it was still hard. I don’t even know if anything at all was going on, but that’s where my mind went because I’m pathetic and jump to conclusions. I just had a feeling. Well, recently it seems they had a fallout (I don’t know what happened), and today he reached out to me. My feelings for him were like nothing I felt before and like I said, I really thought he could be like... the one. Like my first real, serious relationship. It hurt when he turned me down and that we grew apart, even thought a lot of that was my fault. However, it was hard to just be friends and I’d get sad sometimes when we did hang out. Plus, it just felt like things had changed between us. He once told me he liked me, and how I was one of the very few people in his close, inner circle and he would be sad if we lost that, but things felt different after awhile. I really thought he gave up on me. Now here he is, messaging me, and I’m trying to think that it’s because he just wanted to talk and actually missed me, and not because of the fallout he had with someone else. I’ll always have feelings for him. We have plans to meet up and catch up soon, and I don’t know what will happen from there...

Ah, here we go again with my rambles.

Have you ever got into an argument with the last person you kissed? Yes.

Has anyone made you cry in the last 3 days? No, it was out of frustration with my life.

Have you ever liked somebody who was nice to you, but horrible to everyone else? No.

Share 3 nice memories you have of the person you fell hardest for. 1. New year’s eve a couple years ago. He took me his church, introduced me to his pastor and people he was close with. It meant a lot for him to invite me and introduce me to people who were like family to him. After that, we went back to his house to play games, drink coffee, and watch the New Year’s festivities. He brought out his photo album and showed me photos of him as a kid. I met his mom. The whole thing meant a lot because he was really inviting me into his life and sharing personal things with me.

2. Around Christmastime that same year. One night after church, he called me to see if he could come by and drop something off, something he seemed really excited about. When he came, he had the biggest smile on his face when he handed me a bag and a card. He didn’t want me to open it until Christmas. When I opened it, I recorded my reaction and sent him a video. He was so happy that I loved the gifts and said something along the lines of, “I hope next year I can see that smile when I give you your presents in person” meaning he wanted to spend to Christmas together. The gifts he got me were a few of my favorite things, including a giraffe stuffed animal, and it was just really cute.

3. We once went to the mall and shared a delicious Cinnabon cinnamon roll and it was just really sweet--both the moment and the cinnamon roll. heh.

What did you do yesterday? Lounged around in bed.

How many of your Facebook friends have you kissed? Three.

Choose 5 friends, and briefly describe their relationship status. I don’t have 5 friends.

Have you ever made any of your friends cry? Not intentionally.

Does anyone disgust you? No one I know personally, but yes.

Is there anything about your life at the moment that you’d like to change? A lot of things. Mainly regarding my health.

Do you regret anything you’ve done in the last 7 days? I don’t think so.

Do you keep a diary? And if you do, has anyone ever read it? My diary is these surveys.

Tell me about the person you had your first kiss with. How do you feel about that person now? I have no ill feelings for him, but other than I feel rather indifferent? I wish him the best.

What would you do about someone who was sending you mixed messages? I know what that’s like all too well and apparently what I do about it is nothing, really. I let it go on. I have confronted someone about it before, but it did very little and it continued to happen.

What are the 3 unhealthiest things you’ve eaten most recently? Pizza, Oreos, and Top Ramen.

How’s your appetite atm? Meh.

Is anything annoying you at the moment? Yes.

Out of all the conversations you’ve had recently, which one has made you smile or laugh the most? Texting with Ty today.

Describe the last situation in which you found yourself feeling awkward. The doctor appointment I had last week with a cute doctor. It was awkward because of what I was seeing them for, and where they had to look.

What makes someone a good friend? someone i have a lot in common with, a good sense of humour, loyal and genuinely interested in my life vice versa. < Sure. <–Sounds good. <<< I’ll keep this going.

Do you look decent in your most recent photograph? No. My hair is a mess and I’m ugly, but my pup is adorable.

When was the last time you wanted to laugh, but felt like you couldn’t? I don’t know.

If they decided to stop making chocolate tomorrow, would you care? I’m not like super into chocolate, so I probably wouldn’t be too upset.

What’s your relationship with the last person who put their arms around you? She’s my mom.

What were you doing at 4 o'clock this afternoon? I was doing my Bible study.

What will you be doing in 30 mins? Watching one of my shows.

Was today better than yesterday? It’s nice to hear from Ty.

Will tomorrow be better than today? It’ll be just another day.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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