#sequence of events from my play today: | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tsukimefuku · 3 months

Text

The man who played with fire

After some drinks by yourself and getting frustrated with someone, you stupidly knock on Higuruma's door to test a theory.

To vibe: Misery - Maroon 5

Tags: +18 (!!!), WITH PLOT (there is always a plot), Jujutsu Kaisen, SMUT, f!reader, Higuruma x reader, some alcohol consumption, he's so in love, she's so clueless, reader is being kind of an asshole, oral sex, cunt-locking, penetration, light f!top x m!bottom dynamic, involves some love-triangle classic shenanigans.

WC: 3.4K

Hey, this is actually my first smut piece! Hope you guys enjoy my filth. This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is preceded specially by "Kindness and Sunflowers", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Fair warning: I like writing characters being humanely assholes and clueless idiots. Be warned.

"I can't believe this," you muttered to yourself. You were drinking alone at the bar, and the darkness served to hide your blushed-by-fury face. After what you called The Event, Nanami asked to talk, only to end up lecturing you about the shortcomings of a jujutsu sorcerer's life. As if you didn't know, given all the losses you had experienced over the years, precisely due to Tengen's established Jujutsu Society. "He can't be serious, lecturing me about this shit." Still talking to yourself, like a crazy person, you tried to let your anger go down with five cold pints of beer. It was definitely not working.

Your phone rang, and Nanami's name lit up on your screen, much to your annoyance. You immediately refused the call and flipped the phone down on the table, feeling all your rage bubbling up from the darkest depths of hell. You needed a release, any kind of release — an exorcism, most likely.

Or, you could try something else.

Peering around the bar, you started looking for someone that you could consider even remotely interesting — but no one, nothing, nada. Given this was a Tuesday night, there were only you and some monotonous people scattered around the murky lighting, encompassed by the noise of a few clicking glasses.

That was when your phone started to rumble to the sound of some text messages, and you grabbed it ready to pitch the phone across the vicinity, believing it was Nanami again. But, much to your surprise, it was actually Higuruma texting you. You were so angry that you had completely forgotten to talk to him today.

He was basically asking how you were, given that you hadn't texted back since yesterday, and you were both chatting on a daily basis for weeks by this point.

That was when you had a greatly horrible (or horribly great?) idea. After all, how could a decision made under the influence, at night, while angry at someone you knew you had feelings for, be bad? This is fine.

"Are you busy right now?" You sent him, feeling the beer breeze warmly through your nostrils every time you exhaled. You have a crush on him, but that's it, this is fine. And oh, you did. Ever since you dropped him off in his apartment the night he was freed from Jujutsu High's headquarters, you knew that there was definitely something stirring up — at least from your end. Higuruma was drunk, he didn't make a move, and could just have been kind of clingy, to be honest, so you decided to let it go for the time being. Every time you got a little too excited to meet or talk to him recently, you reminded yourself very sternly you weren't a schoolgirl.

But you wouldn't let it go today, because today, you really wanted to know.

"Nothing, really. I just got home." Higuruma promptly answered.

"Can I come over?" You texted back, and locked your screen right after, instantly anxious and eager at the same time. What the fuck is wrong with me? What am I thinking? What am I doing? This can't be a good ide-

"Of course, I'd be delighted." He replied. "And then you could actually see the sunflower is doing very well, in spite of me."

You left the money on the counter and ran off, shushing your thoughts out loud.

***

This was a terrible idea, but I think I can just hang out for an hour, make small talk and then leave, you started to negotiate mentally with yourself right after the three knocks on the door gave some sanity back to your brain.

However, after Higuruma opened the door and cocked his head to lean it against the door frame, you knew you were completely doomed. He had the top of his white shirt unbuttoned, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck, and his sleeves were rolled up enough for you to see his beautifully defined forearms. His hair had the perfect messy-I-just-got-home look to it, and you instantly wanted to drive your hands through his pitch black locks.

Oh shit, you thought to yourself, feeling something stir up in your body — and it surely wasn't anger.

It must have been a moment, because he started to look a little puzzled. "Hey, come in." Higuruma said, as if he was repeating himself. Did you not hear him the first time he invited you in?

"Of course. Thank you." You replied, looking down and hushing yourself inside his apartment. You could feel your face burning, and imagined how much of an idiot you were being right now for ever believing this could go anything but wrong.

"Are you okay? You seem out of sorts." He pointed out, closing the door behind him. "Can I get you anything? I got some beer from the convenience store, and there might be water somewhere in the kitchen."

"I'm fine, I just ran here to get some cardio." You clumsily replied, sitting on the couch. "I came from the bar, actually. Already drank some beers. No need."

Higuruma huffed out a soft chuckle, still a little confused, but now intent on prying. "You're not helping your case. You mean to say that you, a jujutsu sorcerer that exercises heavily, decided to get some cardio done while walking under the influence, from a bar, at night, to meet me?"

"Yes. That's what I meant. Quit prying." You responded, not knowing what the hell else you could say. Tell him that you came rushing just so you wouldn't have the time for second guessing on having s- no, you wouldn't do that.

"Hm." He hummed to himself, grabbing a can and sitting beside you, bouncing the sofa slightly. "I mean, I'm always happy to have you come over, but the only time you came here was to bring me drunk from a bender. And to get me flowers."

"Get you a sunflower, because yours had died." You corrected.

"Precisely, a sunflower." Higuruma replied, taking a sip from his beer. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to see you." You said, earnestly. And deep down, it was true, if only half of it.

Higuruma immediately seemed content, even if he only had a small smile to show for it on his face. "Oh."

You were both silent for a moment.

"I never got to repay you for your kindness that day." He said, out of the blue, taking you by surprise.

"It was nothing." You said, shrugging. "I just got you home and gave you a flower."

"Oh, if I remember correctly…" He began.

"Do you remember anything?" You asked, mockingly.

He looked at you, slightly grinning, and continued. "You had to blow up my lock to bust us in. In some places, that would be considered a felony."

"You're saying I could get arrested for busting into a home while I'm with the man that lives there?"

"You also used explosives and damaged the door, let's not forget that." Higuruma said in a mix of playful and matter-of-factly.

"I couldn't ask, because you were completely wasted! Just getting your address was a pain in the ass."

He chuckled. "Was it?"

"Yes, it was." You replied, more relaxed, thanks to coming back to your old banter. This came for the both of you so naturally that you barely realized Higuruma had rested his arm on the sofa right behind you, leaning closer. "Higuruma, why did you drink so much that night?"

That question surprised him, as you could deduct from his eyes widening lightly. He put his beer can on the coffee table and ran his fingers through his hair, inhaling deeply. "I don't know. I guess-" he stuttered for a moment. "I guess I was just nervous to be out again, finally and properly going for a drink with..." his last word lingered on the air, as he unconsciously looked at your eyes, and then your lips, "with you all."

"Do you remember what you said when we got here?" You asked, shamelessly staring at his lips too.

"I believe I said, 'you are too kind'." Higuruma leaned over even further, and you felt his entire body go rigid for a second as you drifted closer to him, heat crawling all over your skin, putting your forehead to his. After some seconds, he rested the palm of his hand over your knee, and from how needy you felt for that man at that particular moment, even such a small thing was enough to make you trip over to the other side.

You immediately crushed your lips to his, putting your hands behind his head. You kissed him eagerly, letting out an extremely faint moan as you drove your fingers over his hair — he tasted like beer, his worn off cologne from the day was completely intoxicating, and you found yourself nearly lunging at the man like a starved animal. Realizing what just happened, you pulled back, starting to apologize, eyes wide and face completely flustered. "Higuruma, I'm so sor-"

Your apologies were cut short with his own lips now clashing into yours in a passionate kiss, as he pushed you under his weight to lay on the couch, his fingers interlocking in your hair strands from the back of your head. His hips effortlessly slid in between your legs as your hands made their way to brush his shoulders, and you let out another moan against his lips, this time much louder, thanks to the dry pressure of his now bulging pants against your clothed core. Higuruma groaned satisfied in response, tracing the outline of your mouth with the tip of his tongue. Your mind was becoming hazy, and he parted from your lips for a moment to gaze at your face. His eyes were locked on you, studying every feature and investigating for any sign of discomfort or second thoughts.

You caught up on that and made your way inside his slightly open mouth with your own tongue, intertwining it with his in between gasps and huffs. Now you separated just enough to breathlessly say, "Bed. Now."

You gasped against his mouth, before holding yourself throwing your arms behind his neck and locking your legs on his waist, grinding on him. He moaned loudly at this stimulation, before smiling sheepishly and putting both of his hands on the back of your thighs for support, knowing full well you meant for him to carry the both of you into the bedroom.

"Yes, ma'am." He replied, propping the both up and then lifting from the couch. Higuruma pressed open-mouthed kisses all around the nape of your neck, as he walked towards a dark room, parting his hands from you just to switch the light on. "I want to see you," he said, breathing heavily against your skin, as he threw you on the bed, climbing on top, one hand to each side of your head as he stared at you with a lustful look in his eyes. You instantly pulled his loosened tie to kiss him again, and he lost balance, basically falling with his body over yours. You whimpered at the feeling of having his now full-blown clothed erection grinding against your core, and involuntarily opened your legs to accommodate his hips over yours.

Higuruma started to take off his tie and shirt, and you followed suit, removing your top and bra. He basked on the sight of you, and cupped both of your breasts in his hands. His digits felt rough, and frictioned just the right amount against you, as he squeezed both of them, satisfied and reverent. His hands started traveling down your figure, contouring every curve, hill, and valley of your body, reaching the edge of your pants. "May I?" He asked, his face lightly blushed as he awaited your response. You nodded, and he promptly unzipped you, pulling your pants and panties down, the slight stimulation from the fabric sliding over your legs being enough to make you mewl with satisfaction. Every nerve in you was incandescent with absolute hunger for him.

You opened your legs, and he could see you were already completely wet from arousal. Letting out an audible satisfied moan, Higuruma began tracing your belly with his mouth, planting long kisses as he went down, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched. As he got near your core, he kissed one last time one of your thighs, and sniffed on your folds. You smelled sinfully sweet, and he made no effort to hold back his eyes fluttering shut with pure bliss. "Could I, please?"

This was his prayer, the bed was his altar and he was determined to worship you.

Without a word, you simply grabbed the top of his hair and drove his mouth in between your legs, whimpering and mewling as his tongue started to rub against your clit. His chin would grind forward on your entrance whenever he changed the angle, and you involuntarily pushed yourself down when that happened. He noticed it, and slid his tongue inside you, eliciting a loud moan in response, with your walls clenching around it. He groaned back in appreciation, and his husky, low voice reverberated throughout your entire being. You arched your back, beginning to feel that familiar heat and fire pooling on your lower stomach.

"H-Higuruma... I-" You sighed, in between mewls and moans.

He immediately stopped and brought his face up to look at you. You let out a complaint sound, glaring at him to ask why he stopped.

"My dear, I'm literally with my face in between your legs, eating you out." He said, unfazed by your annoyance. "We're way past last names. Call me Hiromi."

Incredulous, you let out a mixture of a chuckle and a scoff, having the top inside of you wiggling its way out to the surface. You grabbed his hair strongly, and he cinched his eyebrows, cock twitching inside his pants, as the corner of his lips formed an open-mouthed smile. His eyes were softly resting on you, and he wouldn't mind if your naked, flushed body was the last thing he saw before he died.

"Shut up." You said, grinding your pussy against his mouth, and locking his head to your core with your legs tightly holding around him. Higuruma proceeded more eager than before, lapping at your clit relentlessly with his tongue, alternating with sucks that were having you seeing stars. He was absolutely pussy drunk with the heavenly taste of you and had, at this moment, relinquished any control, as he let you face fuck him chasing your release.

The heat came back again, and you closed your eyes, sinking the back of your head on a pillow. Waves were starting to form, and your orgasm hit you like the crashing water against the shore. You began to tremble and vibrate, coming hard in his mouth, and Higuruma feverishly drank you up, completely hypnotized with how amazing you tasted and felt, falling apart under his ministrations.

Letting you finish riding your high, licking gently on your overstimulated core, he waited until you were barely moving before removing his own pants and climbing his way back on top of you. As he got close enough to your face, you looked at him, completely flustered and debauched, resting the palm of your hand on his cheek. "Higuruma, I want you inside of me." His tongue, albeit magnificent, just wasn't enough, and you could feel the same anticipation and neediness coiling in your stomach again, as the tip of his cock rested on your entrance.

He looked at you and grunted, displeased. "Hiromi." Higuruma reached to the bedside table and pulled a condom. The movement had him rubbing his throbbing length, already leaking with pre-cum, right against you, forcing him to let out a strained groan.

You gasped at the sensation and chuckled at his annoyance right after, suddenly locking his hips in between your legs, rolling you both so that you would be on top of him. "We'll see, if you ask nicely." You replied, locking him in between your arms, hovering. Higuruma's eyes instantly softened, and his cheeks took a pinkish-red tint. "You're bossy." He said, turning his head towards your wrist and planting a chaste kiss on it, lingering with his lips for a moment on your skin. "I like it."

You smiled, more pleased than you'd like to admit it, because the both of you fit so well it was astonishing. You never thought it would be happening like this, and for a moment, it felt so right you wished you could be here forever. But nothing that good ever lasts long enough.

Grabbing the condom from him with one hand, you motioned the other to grab his neglected cock. As your fingers grasped around his length, Higuruma let out a satisfied and urgent moan, slowly arching himself under your touch. The sight of him completely pliable to your will had you fluttering, as you began to rub your hands up and down, pumping his girth to pleasure him. Higuruma plastered his palms over the plush of your thighs, and groaned your last name, holding out on some kind of desperation.

"'Way past last names', huh?" You scoffed, playfully, starting to slide the condom over his cock before he could hit you with any witty comeback. After, you positioned yourself above him, holding his length against your entrance, and started to slowly descend over it, feeling it thrust in you to the brim, stretching your walls as he bottomed out. You both let out a gasp, now connected, and you waited a moment to adapt and take all of him in.

"Come here." You said, pulling on his shoulder for him to sit up, so that you could feel and touch every inch of him. He obliged, and sat up, immediately driving his mouth to kiss your neck insistently, brushing the tip of his tongue on the edge of your jaw. Higuruma began to rock his hips, and you did the same, each in the opposite direction, so that his cock would slide in and out of your pussy easily.

You moaned against his scalp, and he held his hands to the small of your waist, leaning you backwards to suck on your breasts. The moment his mouth latched onto one breast, he rolled your other nipple between his fingers, eliciting loud moans and mewls from you. You had your head dangling back, as he began to thrust into you quicker and harder. He slid the hand previously on your waist to the back of your neck, and pulled you in for a kiss, taunting your mouth with his tongue. You opened it, and both your tongues intertwined, as he, now, chased his own release, panting and groaning into your lips. You weren't so far off, feeling the familiar coil tightening in your abdomen, yearning for release.

"Higu-"

"Hiromi, please. P-please... Please..." He implored and begged, kissing desperately your jawline. You lowered your gaze and met his eyes softer and more tender than you had ever seen, so urgently pleading for you to let him in, give him this inch of intimacy, and that was the moment you caved. You pressed your forehead against his, and started to cry out his name. "Hiromi... H-Hiromi..."

Letting out moans and groans in between the squelching from your juices, he pulled you impossibly close, eyes piercing and locked onto yours. This was the moment you felt more naked, bare and vulnerable the entire night, and the coil that had formed in your belly snapped, sending waves of pure pleasure from the tip of your head to your toes. Feeling your gummy walls clenching all around him, Higuruma also hit his orgasm intensely, thrusting into you fervently to ride off his high. He stopped slowly, ready to crumble underneath you at any moment.

"Hiromi-" You said, brushing your lips against his cheek, then under his ear. "Hiromi, Hiromi, Hi-ro-mi. Happy? Just for tonight, though."

Higuruma chuckled soulfully, realizing how much he absolutely loved the sound of his name on your tongue, purred through your whispered voice, reverberating on his flushed, sensitive skin. It made his body quiver and tremble with pure satisfaction.

It was right there, at that moment, with his heart fluttering while you leaned back to gaze at him, stroking his hair strands between your fingers with a gentle smile, that he realized just how fucked he actually was.

Sighing softly and smiling back, Higuruma pushed his lips against yours. He knew that by playing with fire, he was bound to get burned, eventually — and burned he was.

#jujutsu kaisen higuruma #higuruma x reader #jjk higuruma #jjk hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma hiromi #jjk imagines #jjk drabbles #jjk x you #higuruma smut #hiromi smut #jjk smut

256 notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 24 days

Text

In the past, I’ve spoken AT LENGTH about Hobie Brown’s dialogue lines, and it’s because I think every single one of them are interesting on their own level - each telling us more and more about his character.

I’ve almost gone through them all - ALMOST. But if there’s one line that I find to be super interesting - and super misunderstood - it’s this one.

What does Hobie mean by - “Eh, What of it?”

It’s one of his shortest lines, but I think those four little words can tell us a lot about Hobie, not because of what he said - by WHY he said it.

Often when people reference this line, they say that this shows that Hobie is unaffected or apathetic to canon events - either as a whole, or his own. We usually assume that this is some insight into his background in some way.

But I think this might be something else. Would you believe that this line was him looking out for Miles?

It’s been a while, but hear me out on this. So the question I’m answering today is - ‘Why does Hobie say this? And what exactly is he trying to tell Miles?’

[A SHORT-ish essay where I break down one of my favorite of Hobie's lines. Because I miss writing essays lol]

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

Now, I know we all know the context of this scene - we’ve probably seen it dozens of times now - but I just want to reiterate why we’re here in this moment and what’s happening, just so we can begin to get inside Hobie’s head.

The scene takes place shortly after Miles meets Miguel, and in order to explain, Miguel gives Miles a seemingly rehearsed speech starting with ‘This is Everything.’ The ‘Everything’ speech is a basic introduction to the Spider-verse, to canon events and how they bind all Spider-people together.

At this point in time, Miles has not mentioned his father or his incoming canon event. And Miguel has made no indication that he plans to tell Miles that he’s an anomaly - there’s no reason to, so long as Miles plays along.

So from what we can tell, this speech is something every Spider-person gets.

But what exactly is Miguel trying to do?

I think it’s safe to say that The Spider Society is a cult of personality in many aspects - but not towards Miguel - but towards Spider-man as an entity or, more accurately, an identity.

And in this moment, he’s trying to portray the personal tragedies of Spider-people as a part of a bigger narrative. Miguel is showing recruits that their trauma is not just an individual scar, but a collective one shared for the greater good.

Sounds cultish? Well, because it is. There are many ways you can explain this, but I think Psychology Today’s article ‘Understanding Cults’ says it best.

What does that have to do with Miles?

Miguel is showing Miles his trauma along side all others as a way of ‘creating’ or solidifying his new identity as Spider-man, in order to suppress his own identity as Miles Morales. In order for Miles to submit to canon events for the ‘greater good’, he must choose his identity as Spider-man over his individual identity of Miles Morales.

He shows Miles’ his own canon event, beside dozens of other Spider-people facing the same trauma, in order for Miles to feel included, apart of something bigger than himself. This, of course, is a common tactic of real life cults - the prevailing idea that the victim is apart of a larger, inescapable - often religious - narrative within the universe.

In this moment, Miguel is trying to thread Miles into the fabric of the Spider-verse, in hopes that in doing so - Miles will be more inclined to submit to the tragedy of canon events.

In short, he wants Miles to feel guilty and sorry for those around him.

And it’s working.

Let’s look at the sequence of events in this moment. Miguel introduces Miles to ASM-90, the Death of George Stacy. As soon as he hears the words ‘Captain Stacy’ - Miles looks to Gwen. We can see the concern on his face, and the somberness on Gwen's. Already he is starting to feel the weight of the others’ emotional reactions.

Next, he looks to his most trusted person - Peter B.

Already, Peter B. is facing away, clutching Mayday to his chest. We don’t just get a shot of Peter B’s back - but we also get a shot over Peter’s shoulder. And we see Miles, and his growing worry. This shot signifies, to me, that this moment isn’t just about the canon events of each character - but Miles’ emotional reaction to it.

Miguel’s tactic of guilt-tripping his working. Because look who speaks next.

Miles says to Peter B. - “That happened to you?” - But it’s not Peter who responds. It’s Jess. Undoubtedly, Miguel’s biggest ally in the room. Jess says to Miles -

“And me.”

Jess works for Miguel. And in that moment, it seems like she’s trying to drive home the point that this whole presentation is about. I mean, think about it.

If we are to believe that this speech is a routine one, given to new Spider-recruits to tell them about the existence of canon events, then Jess saying this ALSO isn't unique to Miles. Her saying this, her reiterating Miguel's underlying point in all this -

‘We’ve all faced your trauma - we’re all like you.’

In this moment, we don’t ever SEE a shot of Jess’s canon event - because that’s not the point. We see Miles’ reaction, because that’s what this is truly about. Miles’ feelings, his emotional connection to these people, in order to manipulate him into empathy - and conformity.

But then we get to Hobie.

“Eh, What of it?”

As always, Hobie stands out of the crowd.

He’s always the one to think differently and to choose his words carefully. And we know for a fact, he’s always on Miles’ side.

When we watch this moment, many people assume it’s some insight to his background. That maybe Hobie was responsible for his own canon event, or have grown apathetic to the idea as a whole. And while those are interesting theories - I think the answer is much simpler.

Hobie isn’t saying “What of it - what happened to me isn’t a big deal.”

He’s saying - “What of it? What does any of this have to do with YOU?”

Think about it, most times we say ‘What of it’, it’s meant to mean ‘what relevance does that information have?’ or even ‘why does it matter?’

Let’s look at an example. Let's say someone eats your friend’s powdered donuts, and your friend questions the group, looking for the culprit. Someone might say ‘X, your favorite food is powdered donuts!’ X might say ‘Yeah, and what of it?’ - as in ‘Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?’, as a way to show that the information being mentioned is true, but also doesn’t affect the situation.

And that’s exactly what I think Hobie is saying.

Hobie isn’t downplaying his own trauma but saying ‘What of it?’, he’s telling Miles - “Okay, but what does all of this have to do with anything?”

What does their canon events have to do with Miles, and his feelings? Why should Miles have to take on their trauma and their pain, when he just got there?

Hobie knows that Miles followed Gwen, and that him and Gwen care about each other deeply. Upon their reunion, Hobie can see that Miles looks up to Peter - he knows that seeing them in emotional pain hurts Miles too.

And Miguel knows this as well. Miguel probably knows that the best way to convince Miles is through Peter, and Gwen.

But that shouldn’t matter. Miles shouldn’t have to relive their tragedies in his own life just because they went through it. He shouldn’t feel guilty for trying to be different or choosing his identity over the mold Miguel is presenting him.

Sure, Hobie might’ve been hurt in the past. He might still be hurting - but this isn’t about him, it isn’t about any of them.

It’s about Miles, so what does his pain have to do with it? Why should Miguel get to bring up their trauma, and make them rewatch it, for the sake of pulling Miles’ heartstrings?

Why should Miguel get to weaponize their canon events for his agenda of getting Miles to conform? What they’ve been through has nothing to do with it. And Hobie knows this.

So literally, ‘What of it?’

In this moment, Hobie isn’t focused on himself - he’s focused on Miles. So when he says ‘What of it?’ this isn’t a comment on his past experiences, it’s a comment on Miles’ current predicament.

‘Yes, that happened to me, but what does this have to do with you, Miles?’

This interpretation follows the characterization we've seen of Hobie this far.

All of his words to Miles are chosen carefully, all of his words are there to back Miles up - and support him in some way. It’s all Hobie’s thinking about.

And we can see it in Hobie’s face.

Back to the scene. Jess says “And me.”

For a second, Miles’ eyes lingers on her. But after a moment, his eyes goes to Hobie. Hobie, the guy Miles has already decided is cooler, more level headed, a friend of Gwen. Already in this moment, Miles it looking to Hobie’s reaction because he no longer sees Hobie as a threat. In this moment, he’s looking to Hobie for support.

But look at Hobie’s face.

For a moment, he looks visibly somber. For a split second, we’re shown the emotion on Hobie’s face, he’s looking down, lost in thought. [I'm screaming iAHHH i want to know what happened to him SO BADLY he looks so sad :((( I'm gonna cry but also I'm editing this drunk so I'm extra emotional :((( Sad Hobie :((((]

And then he realizes that Miles is looking at him.

But why would the animators show us that, if he truly didn’t care about his canon events? What would be the purpose of this shot?

I believe this split second shows that maybe, just maybe, Hobie does have scars from his canon events, ones he still thinks about, ones that still illicit and emotional response from him.

But when Miles looks at him, immediately, his expression changes.

He tucks away his feelings and returns his attention to Miles. He chooses to set aside his aside his trauma, to play it off and hide it away, because he knows that if he doesn't - Miles will internalize that pain, and that guilt.

In that moment, Hobie can tell that Miles is looking to him for some reason. And that reason is support.

In that one moment, Hobie takes the chance to push his own trauma aside - to be the voice of reason for Miles. The voice to tell Miles that ‘whatever happened to us, has nothing to do with you’.

By saying "Eh, What of it?"

These four words, often thought to be Hobie playing it cool, could be so much more.

It could be one more push to Miles to choose his own path - and it echos back to Hobie’s first monologue to Miles:

In this moment, Hobie chooses to remind Miles, that this isn't about them, or what any of them have been through.

It's about him, and his independence. Hobie is imploring Miles to reject Miguel's narrative - to reject the collective identity of Spider-man.

Because to Hobie, that's what being Spider-man means. Independence, and individuality. He doesn't want Miles to carry his burden, or anyone elses.

And I think this line is the perfect example of that, it shows the depth of Hobie's dedication to Miles, and what Hobie believes in.

________________________________________

In every scene, in every shot, and every line - Hobie is looking out for Miles in anyway he can. And although this theory doesn’t tell us much about his past, it re-enforces who Hobie is as a character: an agent of good and a driving force in Miles’ story.

Maybe Hobie does have canon events he’s still grappling with, and skeletons in his closet. Maybe we’ll one day understand the meaning of his blue laces. But in that moment, none of that mattered. This is Miles’ story, not theirs’, and Hobie knows this.

And that’s true punk tactics. I love Hobie Brown so much i could cry AHHHHHHHHHHHH

_________________________

SOOOOOOO I know it’s been a while but if you read this far - THANK YOU SO MUCH. Sorry if I’m a bit rusty at this, but this is something I’ve been wanting to write about for months now! And Im SOOOO happy its finally done GOLLLY JEEEE

Anyway, here’s Hobie. Bless up.

(right is actual photo of me writing this drunk as hell in my bed lmaooooo im so turnt right now Im sorry if this dont make sense anywayyyyy hes so fine whys he so perfect Hobie I Love YOuuuu wtfffff)

BYE.

#god i love him so much #i love him so so so much #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #spider punk #hobie brown #spiderpunk #atsv analysis #meta #meta analysis

123 notes · View notes

nattikay · 1 year

Text

Jake is a Good Dad and I will Die On That Hill

Howdy Avatar fandom. Over the past six months or so I’ve seen a lot of criticism directed toward Jake Sully as a father, ranging from him simply being a little too strict at best, to outright neglectful and even abusive at worst. This, my friends, is some grade-A nonsense, and today we’re gonna talk about why. Strap in, lads, this is gonna be a long one. Let’s roll.

So before we get into breaking down the events of the main storyline, let’s address the idea that Jake was always the super-strict “military dad” throughout the kids’ lives: put simply, bullcrap.

Out of the film’s over-three-hour runtime, we get to see very little of the Sullies’ lives before the RDA’s return—only about six minutes’ worth. If Jake was meant to be this strict militaristic dictator during this time period, especially in a way that would significantly impact the kids’ character development and their relationships with him, this would be the time to show it, or at least hint at it. But instead of any of that, we really get quite the opposite. Jake laughs and plays with the kids:

Jokes around and cuddles:

Teaches Neteyam to fish:

He even says in his narration:

“Happiness is simple…whoever thought that a jarhead like me could’ve cracked the code?”

Guys, this is quite literally the best time of his life. This man absolutely adores his family with every fiber of his being, they are his whole world. Like, look at him! He has stars in his eyes!!

We have zero reason to suspect that Jake was overly harsh or strict in a way that would impede his relationship with his kids during this time. The Sullies appear to be a normal, healthy, close-knit family.

It’s only when the RDA returns and reignites war that things change.

I’ve seen some people claim that Jake’s personality changed it the second movie. I disagree—it was not his personality that changed, but rather his priorities.

A1 Jake was a disabled marine vet who was offered his brother’s contract after said brother was unexpectedly murdered by some thug on the street…and part of the reason he agreed to take that contract was that there really wasn’t much else left for him back on Earth, so why not go? A1 Jake had just about nothing left to lose, and therefore could afford to be more reckless.

A2 Jake, however, is another story altogether. A2 Jake can’t just run around poking and prodding and taking risks like A1 Jake did because now he has a wife and four children who rely on him and who he loves more than anything else in the world. It’s not just himself he has to look out for anymore, it’s them. He now has everything to lose. He says as much himself:

Not to mention that he’s older now. Did you really expect the 37-year-old father of four who’s been leading the clan for 15 years and is suddenly thrust back into a brutal war to behave exactly the same as the 22-year-old fish-out-of-water ex-marine sent to fill in for his scientist brother out of the sheer convenience of sharing a genome? A2 Jake’s behavior is not a sudden 180 from his personality in A1, it’s a natural progression and reaction for his character given the changed circumstances.

“A father protects. It’s what gives him meaning.”

This is essentially Jake’s thesis for the movie. This is his #1 priority, his purpose, the lens through which all his actions must be viewed in order to understand them, and it’s important to establish it upfront because it sets up everything else.

With that in mind, let’s take a look at the train raid sequence as its aftermath. Jake begrudgingly allows his now-teenage sons to participate in the war party—from a distance, as spotters. Neteyam seems content to fill this role, but Lo’ak, against orders, eagerly insists that they “have to get in there”, even goading his brother:

Tailed by an exasperated Neteyam, Lo’ak grabs a weapon from Tarsem and lets out a half-hearted warcry:

...let’s be honest here, Lo’ak doesn’t really seem to be taking this raid anywhere near as seriously as he should be; he’s treating it more like a game—on which point, y’know what, let’s pause to talk about Lo’ak for a moment.

Because the primary purpose of this post is defending Jake, it may at times appear that I am being overly critical towards Lo’ak. This is not my intention—I love Lo’ak as much as I love the rest of the Sully family (which is a lot lol). I think the things he struggles with are reasonable and valid struggles to have considering his circumstances. However, that does not always mean that he is in the “right”. Jake and Lo’ak’s conflict through the movie is not as simple as “son right dad wrong” or vice-versa; rather, it stems from a generational/age gap in experience and priorities.

In this case, for example, Lo’ak is treating the raid more like a cool action game than a real battle with real stakes. Which may not be much of a surprise—he’s 14! He’s young, he’s naive, he’s never experienced anything close to real war until the past year or so—he probably genuinely does not fully grasp the stakes of this situation just yet. And why should we expect him to, really? He’s never had to before.

Jake, on the other hand, knows the stakes all too well. This ain’t his first rodeo. He was a solider both on Earth (where he was injured severely enough to become paralyzed from the waist down) and then again on Pandora driving out the RDA in a battle that killed several of his friends and allies, including almost completely wiping out the entire Olangi clan.

Jake understands the risks of war and doesn’t want his kids anywhere near it. We see this not only in the film where he only allows Neteyam and Lo’ak to participate in the raid “from a distance” and ultimately fleeing his own clan altogether once his kids are directly threatened, but also in the comics in which he consistently turns down Neteyam’s pleadings to participate in the war efforts. Unfortunately for him, his sons do happen to be coming of age at around this time and there’s only so much he can do to keep them out of it, so he tries to let them participate in relatively safe ways, like as spotters.

Lo’ak…doesn’t understand this. Not really. And that leads to him recklessly taking unnecessary risks—be it out of curiosity, to get in on the action, or even simply to prove himself. Which understandably scares the crap out of Jake.

When the raid is over, Jake desperately searches the rubble for his sons. He finds Lo’ak quickly and makes sure he’s alright:

…before taking off to search for Neteyam, who he also promptly checks over for injuries.

which is something I’d like to point out here: although Jake sometimes gets gruff with his sons, he never leads with that. He always always always makes sure they’re ok first. That’s important. We’ll come back to it throughout the post.

Anyways, it’s only after making sure that Neteyam is ok that Jake’s initial bout of fear subsides and morphs into frustration and anger: what were you thinking?! And it’s a fair question. If the boys had followed orders, they wouldn’t have been at such risk in the first place. Once the party returns to High Camp, Jake addresses this point with them, reminding them that by disobeying direct orders they put themselves in very serious danger, and reiterating to Lo’ak in particular that his recklessness nearly got his brother killed and grounding him.

In other words, Jake’s response to his sons going against his orders was…a lecture and a grounding. That’s…a pretty reasonable parental reaction, actually. Sure, you could nitpick and say his tone was too harsh, but given the situation, I struggle to blame him…

…which leads into the next relevant scene: while Mo’at and Kiri tend to Neteyam’s scratches, Neytiri gently chides Jake for being too hard on the boys, concluding with the infamous line: “This is not a squad. It is a family.”

Now, what I find interesting about this scene is that neither party is really in the wrong here. Jake is doing his best to fill his role as a father by watching out for his kids’ physical safety—even if it means being a little strict. Likewise, Neytiri is filling her role as a mother by looking out for her kids’ emotional well-being. As she should!

That said, I think people who use this line as proof of Jake’s supposed parental failure are forgetting the context. While Neytiri’s line is true in general, when the boys sign up to participate in a war party, they kinda do become a “squad”. In that moment, in that context, they are a squad, they have to behave like one lest someone gets hurt if not killed.

I also think they forget Jake’s reaction to Neytiri’s line:

Look closely. There are tears in his eyes. This dude was terrified of the possibility that he may have just lost one of his sons in the raid, and all his strictness stems from that. And Neytiri seems to recognize this as well, as she can’t seem to decide how to respond. She probably worries about the same thing, after all, even if she handles it differently.

On that note, let’s look at the next time Lo’ak disobeys instructions: going to the old shack with Spider, Kiri, and Tuk, where they first encounter the recom unit.

Something interesting about the aftermath of the recom rescue is that no one gets lectured this time actually. Remember what I said about how, no matter how upset he is, Jake always checks to make sure the kids are ok first and foremost? Sure enough, that’s what he does here:

Not only for his daughters, mind you, but also both his sons (we’ll address the daughter-favoritism claims later):

With the recoms now targeting the Sully family specifically, Jake, feeling out of other options, makes the difficult decision to flee and find refuge among the Metkayina clan.

whoops, there’s that “protection” theme again

When their request for sanctuary is somewhat reluctantly accepted, Jake calls a family meeting and tells the kids this:

Remember how earlier we established how “a father protects” is essentially Jake’s thesis for this movie? Well, this is an offshoot of that: Jake believes that hiding amongst the Metkayina is currently the best was to keep his family safe; therefore, throughout the Sullies’ time with the clan, Jake’s primary goal is to lay low and get along with the clan so as not to tread on their hospitality and get kicked out (even if and when that means setting aside one’s own pride). This, then, is the lens through which Jake’s actions must be analyzed while his family is staying with the Metkayina.

The first time this becomes relevant is after Neteyam and Lo’ak’s little scrap defending Kiri from Aonung and his posse. Jake is clearly not thrilled about Kiri being bullied, but again, his top priority is keeping his family safe and right now this entails maintaining a good standing with the chief, which in turns means that his sons getting into brawls with Tonowari’s son is a very bad look. Which is why, after a moment of internal conflict, he asks Lo’ak to apologize to Aonung (he even tries to explain when Lo’ak protests:)

On that note, while remaining on good terms with the clan has to take precedence at this moment, Jake is clearly quietly proud of his boys for kicking butt, as we see from his exchange with Neteyam (though yes, it is unfortunate that Lo’ak didn’t get to see this bit).

…which brings us to one of the bigger moments that people point to when accusing Jake of being a bad father: the “you bring shame to this family” line. Now, I can understand why this line doesn’t sit right with viewers initially, especially since we have just seen firsthand the truth about what Lo’ak experienced over the past few hours. However, when you consider what’s going on from Jake’s perspective, the line is not quite as unreasonable as it first seems.

Let’s back up a bit to when Lo’ak first returns to the village after meeting Payakan. At first Jake is just relieved that his son is ok (remember: he always checks first)

In fact, once it’s clear that Lo’ak is ok, it seems Jake just wanted to let it go and head home…the real conflict didn’t begin until after Lo’ak lied to take the blame for Aonung.

Up until this moment, Jake only knew Aonung’s side of the story, that he’d taken Lo’ak outside the reef and he got stranded there (it’s unclear whether Aonung specifies that he abandoned him out there on purpose, the little punk, but I digress). But when Tonowari (rightfully) declares Aonung’s responsibility for the incident, Lo’ak speaks up to take the fall, claiming that the whole ordeal was all his idea, which Aonung had tried to talk him out of.

Lo’ak does not have a reputation for lying…but he does have a reputation for pulling reckless stunts that put himself and others in danger, so for better or for worse, Jake has literally zero reason not to believe this claim.

In other words, for Jake, the situation has just gone from “my son got taken advantage of by the local bullies and put into a precarious situation but he’s home safe now” to “my son dragged a bunch of other kids to a dangerous location where he knows he’s not supposed to go despite the chef’s son trying to talk him out of it, endangering both his life and theirs, getting lost in the process, and thereby worrying and inconveniencing the entire clan on whose hospitality we rely by making them go out of their way to arrange a whole search party in the dead of night just to find him.”

…yeah, no wonder he was flippin’ ticked. No wonder he “didn’t want to hear it” when Lo’ak tries to explain that he was “only trying to make friends”. We as the audience know that’s true, of course, but as far as Jake knows in that moment, based on what Lo’ak himself claimed just moments ago, he was trying to “make friends” by…dragging them out to a dangerous location despite their protests thus jeopardizing both his and their lives as well as his family’s standing in the clan who can kick them out at any time. Yeah, I wouldn’t want to “hear it” either.

When you look at it from that perspective, “you brought shame to this family” doesn’t really seem quite as extreme, does it?

And yes, I feel for Lo’ak here, really, I do; he’s just been through a lot and yes based on the actual events that just occurred his father’s anger is the last thing the poor kid needs and I totally get why it would upset him…but at the same time, I can’t help feeling that he kinda brought this particular lecture on himself by voluntarily taking the blame for Aonung. Not really sure what he was expecting: that Jake would somehow read his mind and understand the way things actually went? That he would see through his lie and praise him for being so amiable towards Aonung by taking the fall perhaps similar to how Neteyam so often claims the blame for Lo’ak’s own reckless shenanigans despite how rude Aonung had been to him thus far? Or perhaps he just blurted out the blame claim as an olive branch of sorts to Aonung (genuinely trying to “make friends” in a way) without really thinking about the consequences of doing so. Who knows. But regardless of how Lo’ak did or didn’t think things would go, I think it’s a little unfair to blame Jake for his reaction. Based on his knowledge of the circumstances, which in turn were based on Lo’ak’s own account given only moments before (remember, Jake had zero reason to suspect he was lying), his reaction is actually pretty understandable.

Speaking of Lo’ak’s adventures with Payakan, the next time we see him clash with his father is when Tonowari lectures him for bonding with the outcast, and Lo’ak defends his new friend. Remember: Jake’s top priority is keeping his family safe which currently means not getting kicked out of the Metkayina. Lo’ak, regardless of whether or not he was in the right, was clearly upsetting Ronal and Tonowari in this exchange—Neytiri is actually the first to step in and warn her son:

…and when Lo’ak persists anyways, Jake has to step in in hopes of smoothing things over with the chief.

It sucks that this upset Lo’ak, especially because we the audience know that Lo’ak is right about Payakan, but again, Jake is currently more concerned with not getting kicked out of the clan than with his son winning an argument about the validity of a tulkun’s outcast status.

...aaaand here comes the hardest part of this essay to write. Admittedly I wasn’t aware of this argument until recently, but now that I know it’s out there I feel obligated to address it here. Apparently some folks are out there claim that Jake did not display a sufficient amount of emotion at Neteyam’s death, and this somehow proves that he wasn’t as attached to his sons as he should have been. And all I have to say to that is: did we watch the same movie??

That man broke upon his son’s death. Did he wail and cry like Neytiri, no, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t heartbroken—wailing and crying simply aren’t how his character responds to trauma. He’s a solider, he’s probably trained to delay any external breakdown at least until a given battle is over.

But you can still see it in his face. You can hear it in his voice which breaks and shudders when he realizes that Neteyam is dying and tries to give him a few last words of comfort, wanting so desperately to ease his pain to the best of his abilities.

...yeah. This man is broken in this moment.

…but his job isn’t over yet. The battle is still raging. He still has three more kids who still need him. As much as he may want to, he cannot take the time to fully grieve in this moment.

…which brings us to the big one, the main line people point to when arguing that Jake is a bad father:

Now, let’s be honest: was this an awful thing to say? Yes, absolutely. Should Jake apologize to Lo’ak for it after the fact, if he hasn’t already? Definitely, one-hundred-percent. I’m not disputing that in the least.

however…

In this moment, Jake has just spent the past however-long locked in a vicious battle, and hardly minutes before watched his firstborn son bleed out in his arms. And now he learns that his daughters—one of whom is a pre-pubescent child with no chance of defending herself—are still caught on the “demon ship” with the recoms, who have just very clearly proven that they have absolutely no qualms with killing these kids. Quaritch taunting in his ear certainly is not helping.

The only thing Jake could properly focus on in that moment was getting Kiri and Tuk off that boat. Repeat: he wants to get his kids OFF the demon ship, not risk bringing any of them back ON. On top of that, Lo’ak, as established very early on in the film (see: train raid), has a reputation for struggling to follow orders…even when not emotionally devastated by the death of his brother.

All these things considered, is it really any wonder that Jake did not want Lo’ak coming along on this mission? He’s already lost one son, why in the ever-loving flip flap would he want to risk losing the other by intentionally bringing him back to the danger zone with no guarantee he’ll come out again, especially given his apparent propensity to ignore orders and throw himself into danger?

Heck, the only reason he lets Spider come is that Spider knows where the girls are and, unlike Lo’ak, Spider doesn’t have that same reckless reputation. Spider, in that moment, appears to be able to compartmentalize the fresh trauma well enough to focus on the task at hand, and can be trusted to do as Jake asks. Lo’ak…can’t. So, Jake wants him to stay behind.

Did he express it horribly? Absolutely. But saying one stupid insensitive thing in a moment of numbness underlaid by grief, pain, and fear does not make him a horrible dad overall, and I think it’s a little unfair to say that it does.

On that note, I do not believe for one moment that Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. Now, Lo’ak may well view it that way and I’m sure it’ll come into play for his character arc in future movies, which can be a topic for another day, but as for Jake’s perspective, no. I don’t think he truly blames Lo’ak. Even if he couldn’t necessarily process it all right away, I think he knows that Lo’ak is going through as much heartbreak as the rest of the family…especially given that Jake himself has firsthand experience losing a brother. He just said something dumb in a moment of pain.

(On the topic of Lo’ak being unable to follow orders, less than five minutes after Jake, Neytiri, and Spider leave for the ship, Lo’ak…immediately disobeys the order to stay safe on the island and heads back out to the ship anyways. Obviously in the grand scheme of things it’s good that he was there to save Jake from drowning after the scuffle with Quaritch, but still, good gracious son. Way to spectacularly prove your dad’s point.)

So now we come to the point where Lo’ak saves Jake’s life. After a mutual choke-out with Quaritch, Jake is left to drown until Lo’ak finds him and pulls him to the surface, at which point he gasps for air and chokes out Neteyam’s name.

This can be interpreted in a few ways. It could be that Jake is so accustomed to Neteyam being the “responsible” one that he irrationally thought it was him coming to the rescue, momentarily forgetting he had died or somehow thinking maybe by some stroke of fate he pulled through after all��this seems to be Lo’ak’s assumption, given that he promptly corrects him.

Now, some may take Jake’s “oh, Lo’ak…” as a show of favoritism, or proof that Jake values his first son above his second. I don’t think this is the case though—I don’t think Jake’s apparent disappointment is about Lo’ak being there so much it’s about Neteyam not being there. In other words, it’s not a personal slight against or disappointment in Lo’ak, but rather a form of still-very-raw grief for Neteyam who, remember, only just died, like, an hour ago.

It could also be that Jake is still so distraught following Neteyam’s death that it’s consuming his thoughts…he was able to shove it down and compartmentalize long enough to fight the recoms and get Tuk and Kiri off the boat, but that compartmentalization broke down while he was literally drowning and it took him a minute to focus and put things back together (which he manages to do a moment later when Lo’ak tries to apologize for his brother’s death):

The most excruciating interpretation I’ve seen is Jake thinking he had drowned and is rejoining Neteyam in the afterlife. ouch. Though that is, of course, just speculation.

Regardless, at this point Jake has just about given up. He’s exhausted, he’s in agony, both physically and emotionally. He’s completely drained. He wants Lo’ak to live but is ready to give up on himself (“I can’t make it. You can.”). It’s only when Lo’ak insists:

...that Jake realizes he still needs to press forward. Because his other kids still need him. His other son still needs him and he’s not willing to give up on him. So he takes a deep breath (literally), puts his trust in Lo’ak, and lets his son lead him through the flooded passageways out of the wreck. When they finally break the surface, we have this lovely moment:

This moment is a resolution to one of Lo’ak’s primary emotional conflicts throughout the movie: living in the shadow of his legendary war hero father and prodigious older brother, finally getting the recognition and affirmation he so craved from that father. Some might argue that in terms of “ideal” parenting that this kind of moment should have come sooner, or that Jake’s recognition of his son should never have been in doubt in the first place, and while there may be some truth to that, I struggle to really blame Jake for it for reasons I just spent the past 4000 words discussing. I think the fact that this moment happened at all shows that despite their clashes and struggles and miscommunications, Jake does and always has cared very deeply about Lo’ak; his lectures and frustrations come not out of malice or some personal distaste, but out of fear for his well-being.

We see Jake comforting Lo’ak again after the family returns to Neteyam’s body on the rocks.

As I said before, I don’t think for even the briefest moment Jake genuinely blames Lo’ak for Neteyam’s death. I don’t think he would be comforting him like this if he did.

…which, I suppose, brings us to Neteyam’s funeral, and Jake and Neytiri visiting his spirit within Eywa. No parent should ever have to bury their child and good golly gracious this scene ripped my heart out but I digress. I don’t even really have a lot of commentary to add to these scenes…just…just this. It speaks for itself.

look me in the eye and tell me this man “doesn’t care about his sons”. I flipping DARE you.

Well, that concludes the debunking of scenes that supposedly make Jake a bad father. But before we go, let’s look just briefly at this scene of him being a good dad with Kiri. I didn’t mention this earlier because while I’ve seen a lot of complaints about Jake’s interactions with Neteyam and especially Lo’ak, few people have qualms with the way Jake treats Kiri and Tuk—in fact, many people claim that he shows favoritism to his daughters, going out of his way “baby” them and treat them more gently and lovingly than his sons. I disagree and hope the above has done a thorough job dispelling that notion: Kiri and Tuk don’t go around throwing themselves headlong into the same kind of danger that Neteyam and Lo’ak do. They aren’t begging to participate in battle, they aren’t disobeying orders that land them in mortal peril.

In other words: Jake lectures his sons more than his daughters out of necessity, not nepotism. Remember: Jake’s #1 priority is protecting his family, keeping them all safe and alive. That means that when one of his kids pulls a stupid stunt that puts them in danger he feels the need to crack down on that in hopes of preventing it from happening again. Lo’ak is, quite frankly, prone to pulling those kind of stunts, so he gets lectured a lot. Kiri and Tuk do not typically pull such stunts, so they don’t get lectured. It’s as simple as that, really.

Buuuuuut now that we’ve cleared that up, let’s talk just briefly about Jake comforting Kiri.

Like with the scene of visiting Neteyam’s spirit, I don’t have much commentary to add to this scene—it’s a very sweet scene and it speaks for itself really. Jake is very gentle and doing his best to listen to Kiri, even if he is a little unsure about her claims. He doesn’t criticize or invalidate, he just tries to be there for her. What can I say, that’s a good dad right there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One last little point before we wrap up for real: the fact that Lo’ak and Neteyam occasionally refer to Jake as “sir”. I was originally planning to address this earlier but it didn’t quite fit in with the flow of the discussion and I consider it such a minor point anyways, I figured I could save it for a side note—but seriously, it baffles me what a big deal people make of this.

It would be one thing if “sir” was something that Jake strictly enforced, if it was the only thing he allowed the kids to address him as, if one of them called him “Dad” and he barked back, “no! it is sir!” But…literally none of that is the case. He never explicitly asks them to call him “sir”, and they call him “Dad” just as often if not more.

The kids referring to Jake as “sir” in tense moments is a simple show of respect, nothing more. I recall my own dad also wanting to be called “sir” when we were in trouble and it was never really an issue. And I suppose your milage may vary depending on where you live, but growing up in the southern US, “sir” and “ma’am” are just very common basic courtesy in many situations (not just familial).

Sooooo….yeah, the idea that Neteyam and Lo’ak occasionally calling Jake sir is somehow proof of Jake being too strict or cold or whatever else is really making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s not that deep y’all.

…aaaand I suppose that’s it for this post.

In conclusion:

Look guys, Jake does not have to be your favorite character. You don’t even have to like him, or agree with everything that he says or does. He isn’t perfect (which, by the way, literally no one is). But if nothing else, I hope this behemoth of a post has at least helped you understand his character and why he acts and reacts the way that he does.

Jake Sully may not be a shining beacon of parental perfection from a psychological development perspective (and all things considered, expecting him to be such is, quite frankly, a little silly), but good golly gracious he is trying his absolute darnedest in incredibly difficult and precarious circumstances beyond his control i.e. the RDA coming back to quite literally take over. This man’s family means absolutely everything to him and I’m done sitting back and watching y’all slander him just because he didn’t react to x situation the way you think he should have.

thank you and good night

#avatar #avatar 2 #way of water #jake sully #lo'ak

847 notes · View notes

abubblingcandle · 1 month

Note

I would love to hear more about your thoughts on Jamie’s loan being terminated

You do not know the box you have opened my friend. I've been talking about this a lot today as fic may be coming but the one word summary is that it is all about the ✨optics✨

Because if we step outside of the AFC Richmond bubble and just look at the sequence of events that goes on, it looks so bad for our boy.

He fights with his teammate on the pitch over his treatment of another teammate. They are both booked for this fight. Jamie is then yanked in the first half of the game very close to half time. This looks like disciplinary action. It looks like the blame is being placed at Jamie's feet and he is being pulled off the pitch as 'punishment'. Because if it is a tactical change, if it is a problem with the play on the pitch then you wait until half time so it can be a more thought out decision. And looking at the quality of Jamie's play during the match, he's not playing badly so it can't be because of that. So it must be disciplinary.

Then, in the press conference post match Ted makes the comment "Jamie knows what he needs to do". Which is just so Ted but I'm not going to get into the Jamie side of that now because that's not relavent to this argument. SO from a press POV, that sounds an awful lot like this being a recurring problem, internal disciplinary action had been threatened and Jamie continued with this behaviour and so it would be taken further. It also places the blame for problems squarely on Jamie's shoulders.

Next couple of days, Dani Rojas. Dani would be plastered all over social media about his return. Running around training, scoring goals, being hugged by his teammates. And who's missing from these scenes ... Jamie Tartt. The striker brought in when Dani got injured who has been walking a fine line. Whispers will start proper now, where is Tartt? He wasn't injured at the game, Kent didn't even touch him. Is this disciplinary as in being barred from training in which case that is ten times worse than anyone thought or is he choosing to miss training in which case that shows a major break down and potential breach of contract. Bad news.

Then ... Jamie's loan is terminated. Now from all the vagueness about Ted not being told, no one knowing if it was City that called him back or Richmond that terminated it that likely means there was a vague as fuck statement likely just saying "Jamie Tartt's loan has been terminated, all of us at Richmond wish him well". Which screams (say it with me now) disciplinary issues. The rumour mill would be going a mile a minute but what conclusions do we expect them to draw with that being the image that was painted in the lead up.

Jamie then barely plays for City the rest of the season which doesn't fill anyone with confidence that Jamie has been 'forgiven' for his transgressions.

SO - the point being, if any other team looks at Jamie during the summer loan/transfer window after S1, his record screams DISCIPLINARY ISSUES which for basically every team out there is a deal killer. Why would you want to spend premier league salary and transfer fees for a player that might come into your team and be hostile, refuse to train, fight within the team ... you just wouldn't.

Being returned from a loan for disciplinary issues is a career killer and it adds so much to beginning of S2 Jamie because what if he had looked for a footballing way out of Manchester but no one wanted anything to do with him for the money that Man City were asking and so ... what else was he to do? But then in running away to LCA ... he just proved all of those issues right and gave Man City a real opportunity to void his contract

... for ... disciplinary issues

#jamie tartt #meta #ask box is always open!

61 notes · View notes

lurkingshan · 2 months

Text

Jazz For Two

What an absolute mess of a show. What a muddled message about family and intimate partner violence and abuse. What a nonsensical progression of scenes masquerading as a story.

I have been scratching my head about this one all the way through, but today's final episodes really took the cake. There are so many problems with this show that I could break down in great detail, but the biggest problem as a piece of storytelling is that nothing the characters do makes any sense. Let me illustrate this by describing the progression of Seheon and Taeyi's arc in episode 7 in four scenes:

Taeyi reacts to Seheon's kiss with violent homophobia, calling him slurs and sexually harassing him as a form of mockery

Taeyi feels bad, goes to the piano room, plays a tune, says he's sorry and kisses him, all while Seheon passively lets it happen

Taeyi puts his arm around Seheon, flirts, and struts around the school hallway with him, looking very much like a couple

Taeyi jokes around and tries to kiss Seheon in the piano room

All of this happened within 15 minutes of screen time, with no connective tissue between these scenes to explain the huge change in Taeyi that occurred overnight, or give any agency to Seheon as this boy alternately abuses and hits on him. Homophobia has been a huge and looming threat throughout this show, but suddenly Taeyi is just fine openly flirting with him and Seheon is fine with being attacked one day and kissed the next.

And don't even get me started on the side couple, where we have a character who inexplicably loves someone who has been violently homophobic toward him, as well as assaulting others both physically and sexually in front of him. In episode 8 we learn that Taeyi's brother also loved a boy (Seheon's brother) who rejected him cruelly due to internalized homophobia. Every single pairing in this show is a dynamic of the abused party inexplicably desiring someone who has abused them. I don't understand why any of them like each other, and I straight up don't believe most of these scenes. There is no consistency either internally to the scenes or as part of a narrative through line, and the characters just do whatever the story decides it's time for them to do regardless of whether it makes any emotional sense. And all of this is playing out alongside a story of familial abuse with no apparent idea of what the story is trying to communicate by putting these plots next to each other. The show doesn't even bother to interrogate this before jumping to a bizarrely shoehorned in noble idiocy/romcom run resolution for the main romance that doesn't fit with anything that came before it, and then jumping to a music festival and montages of the two couples hanging out and making music together as if this has been a show about a nice group of friends in a jazz band all along.

And let me tell you, I wish that had been the show we got. I know this was adapted from a webtoon, but it seems it's quite a mess of an adaptation that took an already dark and dicey story and rendered it nonsensical by messing with the pacing and sequencing of events. I very much do not recommend watching, and between this and the strange mess that became of A Shoulder To Cry On, I will be giving this production company extreme side eye going forward.

#jazz for two #korean bl #shan shouts into the void

68 notes · View notes

604to647 · 3 months

Text

Safest with You (Ch. 12 - The Workout)

7.2K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You and Din “work out” at Mando’s gym and you end up getting sick.

Warnings: 18+ content (MDNI please), reader ogles Din like a piece🥩, smut, unprotected PiV sex, semi-public sex (car), new-ish established relationship, dirty talk, light degradation, light daddy kink, pet names as usual (pretty bird, baby, sweetheart, bunny, etc.), description of flu symptoms (it's gross y'all), reader is described as shorter than Din and he strokes her hair while she's sick.

A/N: Oo! This is a long one; it's just because The Workout and The Cold used to be two chapters and I ended up shmushing them together. There was an ask about Din taking care of reader while she's vulnerable; I hope this chapter fulfills that ask! 🥰 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

“You know, you can come work out at Mando’s, if you want.”

“Really? That won’t be weird? Like, I’m moving in on your space?”

“I like you in my space.”

Din says it like a simple statement of fact, not even looking up from the cutting board where he’s slicing the steak he grilled for dinner. You’re not big on working out, but once in a while you just like to go for a run or a row and zone out to some TV; it’s not a regular thing so you don’t have a membership anywhere, and your building has a gym on the third floor that you can use whenever the urge strikes you (not often). But this morning when you went downstairs, ready to put in the hour you needed to catch-up on your favourite trashy reality show, you had found a temporary closure notice on the gym entrance.

It's not a bad idea. The weather is getting a bit chillier so your walks with Al haven’t been as long as both of you would like; it might be nice to have another option to get a little bit of exercise, “It’s okay if I just use the cardio machines? I won’t use any of the weight lifting equipment or anything.”

“You can use whatever you like. I’ll even have Jimmy fetch you water and towels.”

“Noooooo,” you make a face and shake your head.

“Yessssss,” he mimics you, “You’re the boss’ girl, you should be treated special.”

“You treat me special enough, for you and Jimmy both, thanks,” you say, still scrunching up your nose, but you tell Din you’ll take him up on his kind offer.

---

The next weekend, you leave Al snoozing on the Din’s bed and head down to the gym with the intention of saying hi to Din while he works, but also to run off some of the stress from the work week. Like the gym in your building, there are enough empty machines so you have your pick, but unlike your gym, the patrons all seem to know one another and are treating their workouts like a social event. Din’s helping out with the training today; you give him a little wave when you walk by the ring so not to distract him, and pick a treadmill off to the side so you can still see him and also simultaneously do some innocent people watching while you run. Headphones on, your phone jacked in to the console so you can stream your show, you pick the program you want the machine to run and start your work out.

Your plan is almost immediately derailed. As the familiar title sequence of your show starts to play, your eyes drift up past the screen and lock onto Din’s figure in the ring. He’s sparring with Chris today; having already gone a few rounds while you were upstairs, both men are sweaty and breathing heavily, chests and shoulders heaving as they circle each other. Din has sweated through his t-shirt so that it’s now sticking against his body, making him look even more immense than usual, and you openly gawk at the strong lines of his back and arms visible through the darkened fabric. As if he’s somehow reading your mind, Din puts a pause on the bout in order to remove his wet shirt; it’s not an easy task given his gloves, but he manages it with some grace and the use of his teeth to pull and hold the collar. When he finally whips the shirt over his damp curls, you’re treated to the sight of his thick, hard chest, glistening and flexing as he stretches out his arms; you feel a heat pooling below your abdomen and a flush spread across your chest that has nothing to do with your lackluster exercise efforts.

Far from doing any people watching like you had planned, you’re now struggling to make sure that you yourself don’t become a spectacle by openly drooling while you watch a shirtless Din fight in the ring. Every one of his punches is quick and agile, arms extending perfectly to show off his control and precision; his muscles prominent and flexed, the veins on his forearms protruding as his gloved fists clench, ready for impact. He’s a mammoth force, a powerhouse, somehow both immovable and unstoppable, and he looks good enough to eat.

You haven’t watched single a minute of your show and it’s actually getting to the point where the voices coming through your headphones are an unwelcomed distraction from the actual show you’re engrossed in, so you take off your headphones and place them next to your water bottle. Big mistake. Now, you can very clearly hear Din’s groans and pants as he ducks and punches. It’s like the thirst trap video you’ve been watching all of a sudden turned up its pornographic soundtrack. Din’s low, throaty grunts as he exerts himself, coupled with the words of praise you hear him shout out in his deep, encouraging baritone, have your mind running wild.

When Chris lands a hard punch to Din’s shoulder and you hear him grunt out, “Fuck!”, you nearly trip over your own feet.

You’re pounding back your water, throat parched and sweating profusely, and you’re barely 20 minutes into the preselected program; you’re not even going to lie to yourself, the flush of your skin and your shortness of breath have absolutely nothing to do with this treadmill. You’re about to admit defeat and cut the run short, thinking you could definitely benefit from a cold shower, when you see Chris and Din touch gloves, seemingly done training for the moment. Din ducks under the ropes and starts taking off his gloves; as he walks past you, he throws a towel around his neck and you a quick wink. Where is he going? You watch as he heads to the front of the gym, disappearing around the partition wall that rests between the front door and the main gym.

Without even thinking, you stop your machine, grab your things, and try to quickly and discretely follow. You find Din outside, having put on a dry shirt, standing behind his truck with the trunk door opened above him as he rifles through the box full of equipment he keeps in the trunk. Wordlessly, you put your things down on the trunk bed next to the box, surprising Din at your sudden appearance, “Hey pretty bird, what are you doing here? It’s cold, you sh-“. Taking his hand, you lead him to step back before pressing the auto-close button on the trunk door; as it folds down; you open the door to the back seat of the truck, and gently push Din to get in, with you following directly.

Din chuckles as you situate yourself on his lap, straddling his thighs, looking at him with a hunger in your eyes, “Baby, what’s all th-?”. He’s cut short when you silence him by throwing your arms around his neck and attach your lips to his, hard and hurried. You’re embarrassingly pent up from the last 20 minutes of watching the hottest man you’ve ever known show off his power and skill on what was basically a stage you had a front row seat to, and now you need to feel the strength of those muscles on you, under you, fucking up into you.

“Want you,” you mumble against his lips, “…so turned on. Watching you.” You’re barely able to string together your thoughts, you’re so consumed with exploring the cavern of Din’s mouth with your tongue, but Din gets the idea. Feeling incredibly needy, you start lightly grinding down on Din’s lap, and he encourages you by placing his hands on your waist and helping guide your movements; even this light friction feels overwhelmingly good against your aching clit, and you throw you head back and cry out, unabashed and loud enough for anyone walking by Din’s car to hear.

“Fuck, daddy, need you. Please, please…” your mouth back to messy kissing Din’s as your hands thread through his damp hair, tugging at the curls at the base of his neck and earning you a deep growl from the back of his throat.

“Look at my desperate, pretty girl,” groans Din, eyes greedy as you take off your t-shirt, then your sports bra, letting your tits bounce in his face, “…can’t even go a whole work out without riding her daddy’s dick.”

Unable to wait another minute, you peel your wet shorts and panties off in one go, now completely naked, sweaty and panting on top of a still fully clothed Din. “Not my fault, daddy,” you pout as you press yourself down on Din’s clothed cock, making a wet mess of his gym shorts. “You looked so fucking good in that ring, then you were making all those grunting noises. Couldn’t think of anything else but you filling me with your cock. Ahh-,“ you gasp out loud as Din takes one of your nipples in his mouth, nibbling and rolling the sensitive bud between his teeth before sucking down and flicking it with his tongue. You whine and increase the intensity and tempo of your movements while he moves to do the same to your other nipple, hand palming and tweaking the now abandoned breast. Din’s free hand snakes its way down to your core only to find you slick with want, a sticky mess already coating your inner thighs and soaking through his shorts, “Messy, messy slut. You get this wet just from watching me spar? Good thing you followed me out here, can’t have you leaking all over the gym floor like this.” He brings up his fingers so you can both see how your wetness coats his fingers, even though he has yet to insert them into you. When he pulls them apart, you watch the fluid web that connects his fingers stretch, proof that your pussy is positively leaking; you whimper at the filthy sight and bring Din’s hand to your mouth, popping his fingers into your mouth so you can suck off your own arousal. Moaning at the taste of your own indecency, you grind down hard against Din’s groin, his hard-on straining painfully against his shorts.

“Fuck me,” you mumble, Din’s fingers still in your mouth.

“Let me make you come first, pretty bird,” Din pleads, always putting your pleasure first and wanting to lesson the sting of the first stretch of his cock within your tight walls.

“Can’t wait, daddy… please, I can take it, please.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” grits Din, as he pushes his shorts and boxers down; his leaking cock springing out and slapping against your stomach, coarse hair at the base tickling your clit and making you gasp in pleasure, “YES! Please, daddy, need to bounce for you.”

You’ve never taken him without having come first, and if you weren’t so far gone, answering only to your lust, you would probably be worried; but as you line yourself up with Din, the shudder you get just from swiping his swollen head through you folds and tapping it on your clit makes it impossible to care about anything other than having him inside you right now.

Slowly, slowly you sink down on Din’s length, taking him a little at a time. Din grips your waist tightly, eyes closed, forcing himself to breathe; you’re so incredibly tight this, warm cunt practically strangling him, he fights the urge to move and bury himself in you fully. The stretch of Din’s fat cock is almost too much, your soft walls molding so tightly to him you can feel every ridge and vein as you slowly spear yourself downwards. The pain doesn’t register so much as the overwhelming feeling of fullness, your body needing more time and space to accommodate Din’s thickness. When he finally bottoms out, you just sit and sigh, sated from just warming his throbbing cock in your tight heat.

Your lust driven frenzy quelled, you now rest serene in Din’s arms, drinking in his gentle kisses, soothing touches, and words of praise of how good you’re doing for him; Din worshipping you as you take his cock so perfectly, and you getting used to his size and relearning how to breathe. Finally, finally, you look up at Din’s face to see his eyes filled with adoration, and your breathing evens, allowing you to kiss him with renewed passion. Grinning against your lips, Din murmurs, “Thought you wanted to bounce, bunny?”

Pulling away slightly and grinning back, you nod and lift yourself up a little, then slowly push yourself down back down fully onto Din’s length again, eliciting a heady groan from you both. You repeat the action, again and again, each time increasing the amount of Din’s length you work in and out of your pussy, until you’re panting and bouncing up and down on the full length of Din’s dick, “Feel so good, daddy. So full.”

“So fucking pretty, bouncing on me like a whore, bunny,” groans Din, as he mouths at your tits. You love his new pet name for you, the endearment spurring you to bounce harder and chase the high that’s been building since you saw him land a thundering cross punch to Chris’ jaw in the ring.

“Love being your slutty bunny, daddy,” you cry, head thrown back in ecstasy, “wanna ride this cock until it’s all creamy. Until it fills me up, ngh..ahhh-“

Din thinks he’s going to explode from your filthy words, then he knows he’s going to explode when he looks down at where the two of you are connected and sees a ring of white around the base of his cock, “Holy shit, baby. Look at you already creaming around me. My perfect bunny. Doing so good riding this dick, taking me so well. So fucking perfect.”

He presses one of his hands against your stomach, balls tightening when he swears he can feel some movement against his palm from the inside, and uses his thumb to draw his name on your swollen clit.

It’s too much, too much. The stretch and burning sting of having taken Din’s cock without much prep, his filthy words of praise, the lewdness of fucking in his car in broad daylight parked out in the open in front of his place of business, the tenderness of your new pet name, the delicious pressure on your clit – you come. You come with a soundless scream, the stuttering of Din’s name punctuated by sharp gasps of air, you body shudders and shivers as you clench down hard on Din’s cock. Hand threading, then fisting the hair at the base of your neck, Din fucks up into you as he praises you through your high.

“So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, pretty bird.”

“My little bunny did such a good job on daddy’s dick.”

“You feel so good, baby. Made for me.”

You’re still so full, but now also so pliant and eager to please; with what remaining energy you have, you bounce down hard, meeting every one of Din’s upward thrusts so he bottoms out in you each time, the force of each drive has your ass jiggling as it slaps down on his thighs. Din grunts and pants as he chases his own finish; you hug yourself around his neck, and babble, “Thank you for making your bunny come, daddy. Felt so good to gush all over your dick. Want to do the same for you, Din. Please, please, fill me up. Need your cum, please.” Never one to deny you anything, Din comes with a roar, filling your pussy with rope after rope of his milky cum so you grow even fuller and continue to hum, “Thank you, thank you, daddy.”

Your post “workout” cooldown comprises of gentle strokes to the back, soft cradling of heads, and quiet words of devotion; tired and satisfied in Din’s embrace, you start to shiver, and this time not from pleasure. Coming out into the cold air while sweating from a run, then getting naked in a colder car was probably not the smartest idea, but you hadn’t been really thinking about the well-being of your health at the time. Din rubs his big hands over your arms to warm you up, “Pretty bird, let’s get you dressed.” You find your gym clothes but the idea of putting on damp clothes is wholly unappealing, so Din reaches his long arms into the trunk and roots around for some spare clothes. Stepping out of the truck in an oversized yellow Lakers t-shirt and Din’s sweatpants that you’ve rolled up multiple times, you realize it couldn’t be any more obvious what the two of you have been up to.

Getting your things from the trunk, you decide to go through the side entrance straight up to Din’s apartment to avoid any walk of shame embarrassment in the gym. Giving him a parting kiss at the front door, you whisper, “Hope it’s okay we did that, Din. Don’t want anyone to file a complaint against Mando’s.” You look so cute, worried about the reputation of his business, Din can’t help but yank you against him via the waistband of his pants and give you a deep reassuring kiss, “Perk of being a Mando, pretty bird – no one can say shit to you,” before sending you upstairs with a spank.

---

You start to feel a tickle in your throat when you go to sleep on Sunday, and by the time you wake up for work on Monday, it’s a full-blown sore throat. You trudge through a morning of meetings, trying to avoid the pounding of your head and attempt to soothe your throat with lozenges when your team gathers at the door to your office and point a makeshift cross made out of pens and rubber bands at you, telling you to go home.

You gather your computer and some files and tell them you’ll work from home until you’re better, but they insist you rest; you compromise and say you’ll be available by email before heading home.

Din is doing double duty again his week; although you haven’t voiced your concerns, you've noticed that Din’s been a little restless as of late, him and Paz meeting more frequently over an increasing number of border skirmishes and disputes that need to be handled. You’re not sure if it’s anything serious, but you do know that the need to step up security has been weighing on Din – he himself stepping in and putting in more face time than he has since his retirement. You call Din to let him know that you seem to have caught a cold, and you think it’s better if he doesn’t come over, in case he catches it too. With him working long hours, you don’t want anything to risk him getting even less rest than he already is. As expected, he protests, but you insist even though you will miss him.

The next morning you wake up feeling like hot garbage. You slog through about two hours of work before making the executive decision to put your out-of-office on and reschedule you remaining meetings. Your team tells you they don’t want to hear from you until next week but know you’re likely too stubborn to agree to that. You take a bunch of drugs and wonder how you got sick. You’re usually pretty healthy and while the weather is getting chillier, you’re not out much without being bundled up?

Oh.

Your drowsy brain flashes a vignette of sweaty bodies in the backseat of a car, windows fogging as the heat from illicit activities condense against windows cooled by the lower outside temperatures. Of Din’s face buried into your neck, holding you close as you both calm down, your naked body cooling and shivering after your explosive highs. So, this man really will be the death of me, you think, as you pass out.

You wake up groggy and with your throat on fire later in the afternoon. Popping some more drugs, you reply to some work emails and the messages from your friends and Din checking in. You know he’s doing another late night with the Mandos, so you downplay your symptoms a bit so he will acquiesce to your suggestion that he go straight home to rest again. It’s easier to do over text; a phone call would have given away your loss of voice and sent him racing over. With your friends, you can be more candid, I’m dying you tell them – they all immediately volunteer to come over but you tell them to stay away for their own sakes. Going to bed early after taking Al out, you debate dinner but ultimately go without because you can’t handle swallowing any food.

Wednesday is… a blur. You don’t even turn on your computer today or look at your phone. You drag yourself out of bed, take Al out, feed Al, then curl up on the couch shivering. Shit. This is the flu. Your muscles ache, your head is splitting open, and you can add a stuffed-up nose to your growing list of symptoms. Using the energy you have left to grab more blankets, take some drugs and pull down the blinds, you’re guessing the fever is next. That or death.

It's dark when you finally wake up to your phone buzzing on the coffee table; you groggily look at the time, shoot, it’s 7 pm already? You don’t feel well rested at all. You need to take Al out. Ignoring the call and what you think are a bunch of missed notifications on your phone, you thrown on a jacket over your sweats and apologize profusely to Al while waiting for the elevator. Once outside, you have to admit that the crisp cool air feels amazing against your hot skin, and you’re debating if you should risk taking Al for a short walk when your phone rings again. You pick up when you see it’s Din, “Hubo?” you croak out, barely audible.

“Pretty bird… you sound terrible,” Din’s been worried about you all day. He hasn’t liked the idea of you being alone and sick, but you were pretty insistent that it wasn’t anything to worry about while encouraging him to stay at his place. He’s been feeling a bit off kilter being apart from you; even though he’s exhausted from pulling double duty with the Mandos, he misses at least seeing you and Al for your nightly walk. Now he’s even more thrown when he realizes you’ve been downplaying the severity of your illness for whatever reason.

“Thanks,” you joke, but it doesn’t come out sounding jovial; in fact, it’s barely the sound of a scratch.

“Baby, I’m going to come over and-” Din starts to say when you interrupt, “No, no, you’ll get s-” before you’re stopped mid-sentence by a coughing fit.

Din’s already gathered his things and is getting in his truck by the time you’ve finished coughing, “I’m fin-” you’re saying when you’re cut out by the sound of a siren going by.

Din says your name. He hardly ever says your name; it’s always pretty bird, or baby, or sweetheart, or some other endearment. And he never says it in this low, warning tone, like he’s afraid of what he might say if he doesn’t say your name instead. He repeats it, then, “Who is walking Al while you’re sick?”

Why do you feel like you’re in trouble whether you answer or not? Your body clearly doesn’t want to get in trouble either because it figures the best thing to do is launch another coughing fit.

Din softens a little, “Pretty bird, get inside and get in bed, I’ll be over soon,” and he hangs up before you can attempt to argue.

When you and Al come in a few minutes later, you feed him and give him some fresh water, all while giving him as many fussings as you can muster as a continued apology for having ignored him all day. You trudge over to the kitchen thinking you should eat something, clearly the lack of food has not been aiding your recovery, but as you peer in your fridge, the idea of having to prepare anything overwhelms you. You pour yourself some orange juice and use it to wash down some more flu medication and then look through you phone at the messages you’ve missed while sleeping. You’re mid-scroll when there’s a knock on your door; after opening the door, you quickly step back to let Din in and cover your mouth with your hand so you don’t breathe your germs all over him.

“None of that now, pretty bird,” Din says firmly, reaching for you and pulling you in close with one arm before planting a kiss on the top of your hot head.

“You’ll get sick,” you murmur into his chest.

“Then I’ll get sick,” he puts the bags he brought on the foyer table before gently shuffling you towards your bedroom.

When he sees that your made bed (when did you do that!?) does not look slept in, he tsks, “They say that doctors make the worst patients,” he lays you down after pulling the covers back, tucking you in after, “but I think it’s actually stubborn little girls that work in finance.”

His words are lighthearted but you know he’s worried about you, so you play along and whisper as loud as your painful throat will let you, “Sorry, daddy.”

Din kisses you on your forehead, “You’re burning up. I wish you had let me come over sooner, baby. Take care of you and Al.”

“Didn’t want to bother you, Din,” you murmur, snuggling down into your bed; just being in his very presence has relaxed you. That and the drugs kicking in, has you feeling pliant and snoozy.

“You never bother me, sweetheart. Except maybe when you don’t tell me how sick you really are and you go out in the cold while you have a fever,” he says pointedly.

You yawn and close your eyes, confessing, “You seem so stressed out with all the stuff that’s going on with the Mandos lately, Din. Didn’t want to add to your load, make you feel like you have to come and see me and Al when you’ve already had a difficult day.”

“You ever think that maybe seeing you and Al is exactly what I need after a long hard day of seeing some bad shit go down?” says Din, quietly.

Your eyes open wide; you can’t believe you haven’t thought of it like that. You know that anytime you’re having a bad day, it’s been made better the instant you see Din’s face, and even while you’ve been sick this week, you’ve longed for his soothing embrace. Why didn’t you think it would be the same for him? You sit up so fast you get dizzy, but throw your arms around Din’s shoulders and bury your face in his neck, “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, pretty bird. You were just trying to take care of me. You need to let me take of you too, okay? I like taking care of you.”

You nod into him and let Din gently lay you down again. As you snuggle back into your covers, you pat the other side of the bed, “Come and sit with me and tell me about your day and all the shit that’s been going on until I fall asleep.”

Din climbs onto the bed and starts to pet your hair, “Sounds good. But whenever you wake up next, I’m going to feed you some soup, okay?” You nod, and feel the bed jostle some more as Al hops up on the bed to join in on the family time. He lays down between you and Din, resting his head on Din’s lap so Din can pat his head as well.

When you’re all settled in, Din looking like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, starts to share. First you learn some background: in addition to the Fett family, there other powerful syndicates in play - The Pykes, the Hutts, the Guavians, to name a few. You make a face when you remember Gorga Hutt and his slimey cronies from Jimmy’s fight night and Din chuckles as if reading your mind. Apparently, years ago, before Boba rose to power, the rival gangs ran unchecked, and violence in the streets was a common occurrence. Gangs constantly fighting for territory or profits made for a lot of instability and it was an unsafe time for Din’s neighbourhood as well as many others in the city. Once Boba had built up sufficient territory and muscle to be taken seriously, he had called the families together and brokered a peace treaty; physical borders and commercial limits were drawn that minimized conflict and overlap of business interests, ensuring prosperity and minimizing bloodshed for all. Din recalls for you how many of his earlier years as Boba’s enforcer were spent strengthening and defending these borders and boundaries. Happily, for the most part things have been stable for many years; nothing is ever truly peaceful but everyone has been co-existing without issue.

However, in the past month or so, something had shifted; little problems and violations have been occurring with increasing frequency.

“What kind of problems?” you ask, you’re fighting sleep to make sure you don’t miss any of what Din is telling you. Din sighs, “Things that if they were to happen as a one-off, wouldn’t necessarily be concerning. Like vandalism of a business under one family’s protection, or minor altercations among lower ranking members from rival families in public places, or even the theft of known family members’ property.” Din rubs his face in frustration. There’s nothing to prove it but Din doesn’t feel that these incidents are isolated; there must be something bigger at play. For now, the Mandos are being dispatched to put out these figurative (and in one case, literal) fires, and to beef up security where future infractions are likely to take place, but Din thinks they need to investigate these events as a whole to see if there is something more sinister behind it all. It’s really been stressing him out.

Holding Din’s hand and stroking it so that you’re the one now comforting him, “I think you should trust your experience with this type of unrest. Plus, you don’t have any reason not to listen to your gut. What does Paz think?”

“He agrees with me, but he’s the leader now and his orders are to quell and prevent further disturbances. Any investigation has got to be secondary.”

“I see. What do you think is going on?” you nuzzle Din’s hand with your cheek, letting him know he can think out loud with you.

Din rubs his chin, “I don’t think it’s a new player, they seem almost too careful. None of the incidents ever hit any big enough targets or players that would lead to full scale retaliation. So it has to be an existing family in order to be in the know. The problem is, I can’t see any of the families risking all out war… for what? A couple of corners? The cost of a few repairs?”

Your analytical brain is turning, “Are the other families run like the Fetts? I mean, when you say it can’t be one of the families, what you really mean is you don’t think it’s a family sanctioned plan or attack, like it isn’t approved by leadership? But, are any of the families big enough or loosely run enough that people could go rogue? Or get away with stuff without their leaders knowing?”

“Hmmmmm… good point, pretty bird. None of the other families are like the Fetts, actually. Boba’s power never came from numbers, but from solidarity… stronger together, is the family motto. Everyone knows what everyone is doing and we stick together, no secrets. As I understand it, that’s not how the other families are run – they’re bigger for one thing. And there’s a lot of segregation so no one knows everything. Everything is need to know and people sort of stick to their own lanes – it’s so no one amasses enough power within the organization to overthrow anyone.” Din shrugs, “I mean, seems like a weird way to run things to me. What you're suggesting would still be risky, and I don’t know why someone would take that risk, but it's definitely possible we should be looking for people who are doing things without proper family sanction.” Din grins down at you, “Smart girl.”

You smile back, “Really?”

“Really. I can think of a few people I want to look into right off the bat. You’ve given me lots to think about, pretty bird. Now go to sleep.”

Yawning a big yawn, you close your eyes and smile, murmuring, “I helped.”

---

When you wake up, it’s nearly midnight; you’re groggy and still feverish, but your stomach is growling and there’s a delicious smell coming in from the kitchen.

You pad out to living room to find Din working on his laptop, a pair of reading glasses perched on his adorable nose. When he sees you, he sets everything down on the coffee table, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

Having decided that honesty is the best policy, you croak out, throat still scratchy, “Hungry.”

“Good!” Din guides you to the kitchen and gently helps you up onto a high top at the kitchen island.

As Din takes out a bowl, you ask, “What’s that?” Curious about the pot that’s simmering on the stove; you think it’s the source of the delicious aroma you woke to earlier.

“Peli’s famous chicken noodle soup,” Din ladles some into a bowl.

“You made this?”

“Yeah right. No, Peli won’t share the recipe. Says if we’re lucky she’ll will it to one of us when she dies. Nah, she made this batch for you when she found out you were sick.”

“That’s so nice. She didn’t need to do that. I’ll have to bake her some cookies to thank her when I’m better.”

“She’ll like that, but she wanted to. Pretty girl, don’t you get it? You’re one of us now and we take care of each other. You have more people than you know that have your back.” He puts the steaming bowl of soup in front of you and tells you to wait. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, he wraps it around you, tucking in your arms. You manage a small laugh, “How am I supposed to eat my soup?”

“I’ll feed you,” he holds a hand up when he sees your expression, “you said you’d let me take care of you.”

You nod. It’s not in your nature to let people wait on you hand and foot, but you still feel bad for not telling Din how sick you were earlier so, you sit, bundled up on your chair, and let Din spoon the soup that he blows on to cool into you waiting mouth. It’s incredible. Even your stuffed up head can taste the explosion of flavours, the ginger clearing up your sinuses a bit, and the carrots, chicken and noodles all tender enough to be swallowed painlessly. Din patiently feeds you the entire bowl, and you patiently let him; the look of relief and devotion that Din is giving you is enough to make you glad that you let him. After you’ve brushed your teeth, Din sends you straight to bed, hardly needing any convincing to stay with you until you fall asleep.

The next day, Din calls out from work, both jobs. He knows if he goes in, he’ll just be distracted by how you’re doing – plus, he’s making some headway in the investigative notes that he's making for Paz. He does all the walks with Al, and feeds you more soup. He runs you a hot bath filled with eucalyptus bath salts and stays with you while you soak your achy muscles. When he dries you, you try to give him a seductive look, but end up doubling over coughing and he tells you that while he still finds you very sexy even sick (Is that sarcasm?), you need to conserve your energy. You make a face at him when he tucks you into bed. You sleep. By the late afternoon, you feel like you can sustain consciousness for more than an hour and you opt to lay on the couch and hangout with Din. He puts on the comfort movie of your choice and massages your feet while you eat a yogurt. You fall back asleep before the end of the movie, barely registering when Din turns it off and takes you back to bed.

It's past midnight when you wake up again and the first irrational thing you think is that you’ve somehow gone back in time and gotten sick again, but this time worse. You feel disgusting. Your nose is no longer stuffy, but that’s because the snot is now just free flowing out of your face. You’re so snotty, in no time at all you’re surrounded by a ring of used tissues from having to blow your nose so much, and there’s no end in sight. Your sore throat and dry cough, which had been clearing up, have been replaced with rattling phlegm which you can’t seem to clear no matter how hard you hack, but you try until your eyes water. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

Din, appears in your doorway when he hears you, “Baby, you okay?”

You look up at him, squinting through your tears at his sleep tousled hair and the wrinkles on the pajamas he must have changed into. You woke him. And this is the thing that just breaks you and you start to cry for real. He rushes over, scared, “Pretty bird, does something hurt? Let me make it better.” His obvious concern and caring tone of voice just make you cry harder, and now you’re snotting even more. Great. You hate that he’s seeing you like this. You’re not the smart, pretty, funny girl he dates, you’re this weak thing, sick and tired and gross. Totally unsexy. Completely unhelpful. Needy. Putting so much on him. He can’t even get a decent night’s sleep around you.

You don’t realize you’ve said this all out loud until Din tuffs out a little laugh. He climbs onto the bed and sits right across from you taking your hands in his, kissing them.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“No, it’s not,” you choke out between sobs, “You shouldn’t have to be here.”

Din sighs, but it’s not a sigh of exasperation, but of understanding; he tips your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to be.”

“Why? I’m so gross.”

Smiling, Din patiently explains, “Why? Because I love you, pretty bird, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen; your drowsy brain isn’t sure you heard him right, “You love me?”

He nods at you kindly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But to you, in your current state, you can’t comprehend it, “Like this?”

Din lets out a deep laugh, one that fills the room, and he strokes your hair and looks lovingly at you, “Yes. I love you like this. Like the sweetest woman I’ve ever met, one who never ceases to think of the welfare and comfort of others even when she’s in an obvious state of discomfort herself. Like someone I truly love taking care of because it’s such an honour to take care of her. She’s strong and capable, and she doesn’t really need me and never asks anything of me, but trusts me enough to let me be around her when she’s not feeling strong and capable even though she is definitely still all those things. It’s an honour to be good enough to take care of you, pretty bird, because the only person that can do the job properly is you, and it’s an honour to come second to you for anything.”

“Yes, I love you like this. And I love you when you’re playing with Al, when you’re sneaking the treats you bake to Jimmy when you think Greef isn’t looking, and when you’re happy just to keep me company while I work. I love you when just the sight of you brings a peace into my life that I didn’t know was possible, and when you laugh, or call me ‘old man’ or when you listen to me talk about the Mandos and never judge. I love you when I see your name pop up on my phone and when you hold my hand when we walk Al together.”

“I love you all the time, pretty bird.”

Now you’re crying for a different reason, though no longer hysterical; just silent tears running down your face as you come to the obvious but inescapable conclusion about your connection to this magnificent force of a man in front of you, “I love you, too, Din.”

And you do. You do love him. You love all that he is, all that he’s capable of, and all of who he chooses to be on a daily basis. You love his kindness, his protectiveness, his compassion, his gentleness. You love that he lives by a code that values loyalty, respectfulness, and helping others, and he practices this creed in every little thing he does. You love his playfulness, and his sharp wit, and how being able to make him laugh feels like an incredible accomplishment and when you do it, you just immediately want to do it over and over again. You love that he always makes you feel wanted and cherished, but never treats you like you’re breakable. You love how he’s constantly pushing up his reading glasses, and thinks they make him look old but will blush when you tell him how attractive you find them. You love him when he’s bringing you and your work team dinner and remembers that someone’s gluten free. You love him when he places his hand on your thigh when he’s driving, and you love him when he pushes up your sleeves when they start to slip when you’re washing dishes even without you asking him to. Yes, you love him all the time too.

You can’t tell him all that right now, though; you’re too sick and sleepy, but you think you’ll be able to tell tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. For now, you love him by letting him love you, snot and all. Clearing away all the tissues on your bed, you lay back down and scoot backwards towards of the middle of the bed, making a space for Din and hold your arms out, I need you. Din’s smile spreads wide across his face, relieved and content, he climbs in and wraps you up in his arms. Stroking your hair, your back, as your breathing evens.

Drifting off, you roll over so your back is pressed to Din’s chest, taking comfort in feeling him there, a physical and proverbial wall for you to lean on, “Good night, Din. I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty bird. Good night.”

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #modern!din djarin #modern au #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #no y/n

63 notes · View notes

therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

Text

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 1: The Experiment and The Flu

Summary: Peter Parker and Y/N L/N are junior biochem majors at Empire State College. Peter needs a volunteer for his research project, and a series of events leads Y/N to come down with the flu...or does he?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Language, blood, needles, description of medical procedures

Word Count: 3.6K

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“I don’t know how I managed to let you talk me into going to the lab with you this early.” You stretched your arms out as you yawned, keeping your arm just so to keep your coffee upright.

“Dude. It’s 10 am,” Peter chuckled.

“These good looks don’t just happen, man. I need a full nine hours.”

“Maybe if you went to bed before 3 am-” “Now wait a minute. You’re lecturing me about going to bed early when you used to pull all-nighters slinging webs around Queens?”

“Shut up!” He swatted your arm before you had the chance to pull away. “At least I was doing something productive with my life, not playing Pokemon-” “Completing the Pokedex is extremely productive. Now it might not be the same kind of productive as extracting the Spidey mutation from your genome sequence, but categorizing all the Pokemon from the Galar region is an important, time-consuming task.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he rolled down the sidewalk next to you. You chuckled, taking a sip of your coffee as you shook your head. This sort of banter was typical of your friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends and easy to joke with, but you also worked well together. It didn’t hurt that you were both biochem majors and had the same sort of scientific mind. Since you met in world civ last fall the two of you had been as thick as thieves. It didn’t matter that he was three years older than you, a grade above you, or that he used to be Spider-Man. Finding out that the guy in the Stark tech wheelchair who loved Led Zeppelin and Star Wars was once the friendly neighborhood superhero was not what you expected when you went over to his dorm to hang out for the first time. Peter was used to people freaking out when they found out and was thrilled when you shrugged it off.

“So what exactly are we doing today?” you asked. You had volunteered to help him out with a research project he was working on. He hadn’t told you much about it, only that it was being funded by Tony Stark and dealt with genome sequencing.

“Nothing too crazy. I need to take samples of your blood. I’ll use those as test subjects against my blood. That’ll be the control sample.” He punched in a sequence on the keypad on the arm of his chair. Tank tracks dropped down from the bottom of the seat as the chair began to climb the stairs to the science building.

“You know how to take blood?” you asked, holding the door open for him as he wheeled into the building.

“Yeah, well…yeah. I mean Sam taught me how to start an IV and drawing blood is the same principle, right? You gotta find the vein.”

“Oh my god I’m gonna die,” you mumbled as you turned down the hall toward the lab Peter worked out of. It was one of the newest labs on campus. Tony Stark had donated a sizable amount of money toward the Empire State College science and research division with the provision that all the money go toward funding better facilities for students. The new building had just opened at the beginning of the semester. Peter was more than excited to have a space stocked with the latest Stark technology to work on his newest endeavor. It was more convenient than trying to head upstate to the Avengers Compound a few times a week.

“I won’t let you bleed out on me, man. Worst comes to worst we’ll just throw some webs on it and send you to New York Pres.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better about all of this? Because it’s totally not.” You hated needles. You hated doctors. The thought of someone who was decidedly NOT a medical professional fishing around your elbow for a vein made your stomach flip flop. Maybe a large coffee wasn’t the best idea for breakfast…

The bright fluorescent lights in the lab snapped on as you opened the door. They seemed unnecessary as sunlight flooded the windows that took up the entirety of the easternmost wall. The overhead haze added to the sterile feel of the room: the latest in Stark Technology, ranging from microscopes and test tubes to autoclaves and fabricators, shone brightly against the lights. It was nerd heaven, stuffed to the brim with everything anyone could ever need for any experiment they could dream of. You threw your backpack on a lab table adjacent to where Peter was setting up his laptop. Once you were done helping him out, you figured you’d swing by the library to start cracking on the paper for your art history course.

“So I already took my own samples earlier this week,” he explained. “I’m storing them in the fridge over there. Mind grabbing them for me?” He motioned with his head to the mini fridge that sat next to the sink. You walked over to the fridge, seeing a rack of blood vials sitting on the bottom shelf amongst the Petri dishes of spores and sole can of Coke. “Don’t drop it,” he cautioned as grabbed a ziploc baggie of medical supplies out of his bag.

“Whoop.” You fake tripped, stumbling around and swinging the tray to and fro aimlessly. He shot you a somewhat serious glare. You returned a toothy grin.

“Dude if you drop that-”

“Relax, Pete. I’ve got steady hands.” You placed the tray on the table in front of him with the grace of a swan. “See?” You raised your hands up defensively. “Steady hands. I should be a goddamn surgeon.”

“Ah yes, Dr. Y/N L/N, the surgeon who hates blood.” He dumped the contents onto the table. Out fell some rubber gloves, a rubber tourniquet, needles, tubes, alcohol wipes, and cotton balls. You gulped at the sight of the paraphernalia. “So why don’t you just sit there and roll up your sleeve so we can do this.”

“Are you sure you can��t just, like, prick my finger?” Plopping onto the stool you rolled up the sleeve of flannel.

“Do you want to sit here and fill up these tubes one drop at a time?” Peter asked from the sink. The tray of tubes, empty ones and ones full of his blood, sat next to him as he washed his hands.

“Good point,” you muttered. It felt like you were chewing on the flannel from your shirt.

“Just relax, I did it on myself the other day and I turned out just fine.” There was a slight waver in your friend’s voice as he spoke. Try as he might to hide it, Peter was nervous, too. He snapped on the baby blue gloves. You turned your head away, refusing to look until he was done. “Can you just make a fist for-good okay, yup, I see the vein.” The sudden coolness of the alcohol against your skin made you shiver, but you refused to look. Even as you felt the slight prick of the needle against your skin you kept your eyes firmly shut. “Told you I wouldn’t let you bleed out,” he chuckled, replacing the now full vial with an empty one.

“How many vials do you need?” You strained your neck as you tried to look as far away as you could from the scene unfolding in front of you.

“I don’t know, I did six of my own. That should be enough,” Peter shrugged.

Six vials of blood? Why did you even decide to do this in the first place? You could’ve been back in your dorm in the comfort of your bed, sleeping the morning away, instead of having your blood forcibly removed from your body. Peter definitely owed you big time.

He removed the tube from your arm, handing you a cotton ball to stop the bleeding. “That should be it. Mind putting those back in the fridge for me?”

The second your feet hit the floor your knees wobbled. It was probably psychosomatic, but the sight of all your blood sitting inches outside where it should be made you the slightest bit queasy. “Yeah, no problem.” You shook your head quickly. There was no way you were going to let yourself puke or, even worse, drop the vials and have to do it all over again.

It took all your effort not to look down at the plastic tray in your hands. You concentrated all your effort on staring down the refrigerator. That ultimately meant neglecting your untied shoelace. Before you realized what was happening you found yourself tripping over your feet. While you managed to not lose your balance completely, the sudden jolt sent two of the vials crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” you mumbled as you set the tray on the floor. There were shards of glass and blood splattered across the marble tile. You quickly glanced over your shoulder, hoping Peter hadn’t seen your mistake. Much to your relief he was engrossed in his notebook. That bought you some time to quickly clean up the mess. You looked around for a roll of paper towels, spotting the roll next to the sink and tearing off a few sheets. The crimson puddles looked like they’d be easy enough to clean up. Not thinking too much about it, you knelt down and started blotting at the spill. A sudden stab caused you to recoil from the ground in pain. As you examined your hand, you noticed a small scratch on the pad of your thumb.

“You good?” Peter’s voice broke you away from staring at your hand.

“Yeah. Dropped one of the vials and cut myself. I’m good.”

“Was it one of mine or yours?”

“Uhh, mine.” Truth be told you had no idea if it was yours or his. There was no way to know which vial was which. Peter knew. He probably had it marked down in his laptop or something. But you remembered that his vials were facing you when you pulled them out of the fridge. That meant yours were away from you and there was an empty spot there. Yeah, it’s mine. “You need me for anything else?”

“Nah, you’re good,” Peter focused intensely on his laptop, typing away as you finished cleaning up your mess and putting the samples away. “Are we still on for dinner tonight? Ned’s dying to try out that new Thai place on Watts Street.”

“Yeah, shoot me a text. I’m headed to the library for a bit.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder as you headed for the door. “See you.”

“Thanks again, Y/N.”

******

You spent the rest of the day in the library researching and typing and revising your paper. The minutes ticked by as you lost yourself in the endless barrage of Western paintings you thought looked all too similar. Yet as the day passed you found yourself feeling strange. At first you thought you had been studying too long. The words on your laptop screen seemed fuzzy and you found yourself re-reading the same paragraph on Donatello about a dozen times before anything seemed to click. Then the library seemed to drop ten degrees before abruptly shooting up another twenty. Sweat on the back of your neck ran down your shirt and chilled you as fast as it cooled you off. The lights were suddenly too bright and even the silence was too loud.

Shit, you thought to yourself as your felt heat radiating off your forehead. It was probably the flu. It had been making the rounds through campus for the better part of a month, so you weren’t completely surprised. Closing your laptop and shoving your books in your bag, you texted Peter as you left the library:

Got the flu. You and Ned go without me. I’m gonna go to bed.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t long, but it was a near-impossible task in your ever-worsening condition. Every step felt like you were trudging through molasses. Your legs were as heavy as cement and you prayed you wouldn’t trip because you weren’t sure you’d be able to get up again. Tears clouded your vision. Rubbing your eyes didn’t help. The only thing on your mind was downing half a bottle of Nyquil and passing out as soon as you got back to your room.

Much to your relief you walked into an empty apartment. Peter and Ned must’ve already left for dinner. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag at the front door. There was no doubt in your mind that this was the flu: you felt like absolute garbage as you shuffled to your bedroom. As you flopped on the bed, clothes and all, your body felt like it was made of lead. Bone-crushing fatigue consumed you as you shivered on top of your bedspread. You prayed that you’d be able to get a little bit of sleep to help dull the pain.

When you woke the following morning, you were surprised to find that you didn’t feel sick at all. In fact, you felt better than you had in a long time. There wasn’t any evidence that you felt so poorly only a few hours ago. You swung your legs around to the side of the bed and stared at the floor as you thought about what you were going to do all day, but when you tried to stand up something was off. As you stretched your arms above your head, you felt something engulf you: it was your blanket. It was stuck to your hands.

Did I spill Nyquil on my hands? you wondered as you tugged at the fuzzy fabric. No, I didn’t take any Nyquil last night.

It took a considerable amount of effort to tear just one of your hands away only for it to stick on the wall as you balanced against it for support. Paint flaked away as you ripped your hand away. At that point you weren’t sure if you were still asleep or not. Squeezing your eyes shut, you reopened them to find flakes of drywall still attached to your fingers. What the hell? You shook your hands, trying to free yourself of the debris, but as you flicked your wrist downward, you heard a loud thwack. The sticky white residue covered Marty McFly’s face on the Back to the Future poster that hung next to your bed. That same white residue balled up on the inside of your wrist. When you tried to pull it off, a long spindly web came with it.

Oh fuck.

The implications of what just happened were huge to say the least. The vial you broke yesterday wasn’t yours: it was Peter’s. His blood contaminated yours when you cut yourself and now you had…spidey powers? It couldn’t be. This all had to be some sort of nightmare. You were just a normal guy trying to make it through college relatively unscathed. Sure, your roommate was an Avenger and that was a little weird, but other than that your experience was pretty normal. You had no interest in having superpowers or saving the world whatsoever.

“Everything okay in there, man?” Peter asked as he rapped on your door. It momentarily snapped you out of your panic.

“Uhh yeah, yeah. I’m good,” you hollered through the door, still looking at the web in your hand.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m okay. Just, uhh, knocked my blankets off the bed.” You wiped the web up with a tissue, praying that it wouldn’t stick to your hand, too. It didn’t, much to your relief.

“How are you feeling?” he called as you started taking off your clothes from the day before. A long shower would help you figure out what your next move was.

“Good. Great actually. I feel fine,” you responded, throwing your dirty t-shirt on the ground. “How was dinner?” “It totally sucked, man. You didn’t miss much,” Ned’s voice was faint as he yelled from the kitchen.

“Bummer. I told you that you should’ve done Indian instead.”

“Well hey if you’re feeling better why don’t we go for lunch?” Your stomach grumbled at the thought, but images of getting stuck to the subway pole loomed in your mind. “Yeah, sure,” you responded absentmindedly while kicking your pants off and grabbing a clean pair of sweats off your bed.

Wearing nothing but your boxers, you opened the door fully intending to go straight to the bathroom. The second Peter and Ned saw you their jaws dropped.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed.

“Wha-?”

“Woah! Y/N, when did you get ripped?” Ned asked. You were thoroughly confused. None of your hobbies included going to the gym or working out. What were they talking about? The lights came on in the bathroom and as your eyes adjusted to the brightness you were shocked. It was like someone took a chisel to your body overnight. There were muscles in places you didn't know there could be muscles. The reflection in the mirror showed you defined pecs, swollen biceps, and the faintest outline of a six pack.

“What the hell?” you mumbled in disbelief. Your fingers traced over your chest, taking in the new body you’d inadvertently fallen into. It was a surreal experience seeing an unfamiliar body in the mirror. It was almost like you were watching someone else live your life while you watched from outside yourself.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Y/N?” Peter asked as he wheeled himself in front of the bathroom door.

“Yeah. I’ve just got spidey powers now.” It didn’t even feel like you were the one saying those words. Haze clouded your periphery, forcing you to focus on the newness of your body. It was an out-of-body experience in every way. There was no way to really process the profundity of the situation.

“You WHAT?”

Time stopped. Everything stopped. Peter’s face contorted with dozens of emotions in the blink of an eye. Glass shattered on the kitchen floor as Ned’s glass slipped out of his hand.

“Umm, yeah I guess. I’m starting to think that was your blood that I cleaned up yesterday.” You half expected Peter to be furious at the truth, but the beaming grin on his face told you otherwise.

“It worked! Holy shit it WORKED!” He spun his chair around excitedly, whooping all the while. “Mr. Stark, oh man, he’s gonna be so excited! He’ll want to meet you. Man, now he doesn’t even need to look for someone to be the next Spider-Man because…oh this is great, I can teach you everything! That way you’ll be WAY ahead of where he thinks you should be and he’ll let you onto the team fas-”

“The next Spider-Man?”

“I mean yeah, Mr. Stark will definitely want to talk to you about it,” Peter replied.

“Dude, I’d kill to be Spider-Man!” Ned added, sweeping up what remained of his glass.

“No way, absolutely not,” you groused as you stormed out of the bathroom. “No offense, Pete, but I don’t want to be an Avenger.”

“You don’t have to make a decision now. I don’t even know if he’ll ask. I mean he probably will but that doesn’t mean anything. He might just want you to come in to do, like, more testing or something.” Peter gingerly walked back his excitement. The prospect of training the next Spider-Man brought a sense of optimism back into his life that had long been forgotten. Losing his identity as the local neighborhood web slinger stripped away a core part of his identity: Peter Parker and Spider-Man were one in the same. Sure, he still used his powers and webs when he could, but it wasn’t the same. Tony had offered to make him an exosuit after the accident, but he knew that he couldn’t do it anymore. One close brush with death was more than enough for him.

“Look,” you sighed, “I’m not you. I don’t want to go out and swing through Manhattan and stop burglars or fight weird lizard things. I just want to be a normal guy doing normal guy things with my normal guy friends if I can even call the two of you normal.” Peter chuckled half-heartedly.

“Wait, can you stick to the ceiling?” Ned suddenly asked. You sighed again, shaking your head as you extended your arm up and jumped: you stuck. “Woah! That’s sweet!”

“Yeah, it is kinda cool I guess,” you chuckled as you watched your fingertips completely suspend your dead weight from the ceiling. Getting used to your new body was a curious sensation. Everything felt sharper. Colors were brighter and bolder. You saw incredibly small movements even from the corners of your eye. Your body felt stronger and faster and more agile. It was strange, spending your entire life as a regular human being and then waking up one day twenty years later with these weird spidery feelings tingling inside you.

“Do you want one of my web shooters?” Peter asked as you dropped down.

“Web shooters?”

“Yeah,” Peter replied questioningly as he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can actually make webs, do you?”

You responded by mimicking the hand gesture Peter frequently showed you, flicking your wrist downward as a raveled strand of webs flew out of your wrist. Peter ducked his head out of the way in the knick of time while Ned’s jaw dropped in amazement.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?”

233 notes · View notes

kurozu501 · 10 months

Text

near as i can tell the sequence of events on social media with gwitch recently is:

-magazine interview where suletta’s va openly states suletta and miorine are a married couple at the end of the show (confirming what the text already made extremely obvious with the rings, them cuddling, and eri calling miorine “sister in law”)

-(btw ever since the show ended the writer okuchi has been on twitter liking sulemio art and tweets where people thanked him for the gay representation)

-this interview causes sulemio to trend on twitter. apparently a lot of people on the jp side still felt it was ambiguous until this explicit statement (lol this really is jp korrasami)

-a week? a few days? later, the digital version of that magazine interview is released and kana’s statement on sulemio being married… has been conspicuously edited out.

-this causes uproar and backlash on social media

- today the official gwitch twitter released a weak statement of appeasement trying to play both sides and say the relationship is “up to interpretation”

typical homophobic executives meddling and stepping on the work of all the artists that made the show. its so dumb, but i cant say im surprised. ive had some criticisms of gwitch’s queer rep, like how miorine says gay romance is normal in this future yet we never see any other explicit gay pairings, or how the show spent a lot of season 2 keeping the girls separated from each other. but its obvious now the kind of restrictions the anime’s team were operating under when you have suits like this at the top. clearly they had to fight hard to get as much as we did. it sucks, but it doesnt really change my feelings on the show. its over now and the dumb old men at the top cant really change the text of the show even if they want to.

#gundam the witch from mercury #gwitch #sulemio #i kind of expected something like this to happen since its gundam #a franchise this old thats had nothing but male protags for 40 years #there was always gonna be some dumb out of touch old men at the top who'd feel uncomfortable with gwitch's everything #if anything this makes me appreciate okuchi ichinose kana lynn and all the rest of the cast and crew who gave us so much all the more

132 notes · View notes

blues824 · 1 year

Note

may i request the scarabia duo with an dancer!s/o who dances to pop and other stuff if you want to add (gender neutral pls)

This is a tad bit on the suggestive side, but nothing too horrible. I don’t write smut, but if you look at my rules I do write suggestive things.

Kalim Al-Asim

Is most definitely supportive. He’s a part of the music club, and the fact that you’re a dancer just convinces him that you’re both meant to be together. Also, dancing is an important part of his homeland.

He doesn’t dance since he’s a bit clumsy, but he will definitely try to learn if you want him to. He gets a bit flustered when you adjust his body for a certain position you’re trying to get him into.

If you ever perform for either a school event (halftime show at the Spelldrive tournament) or at the Mostro Lounge, he will be front row to watch and cheer from the bleachers.

Now, I know this isn’t my usual writing style… but if you decided to give him a private dance AS A JOKE, he wouldn’t really understand why you’re laughing so hard after. Poor baby doesn’t understand what you were trying to do.

Jamil Viper

You both dance, so everyone would think it’s like the ballroom dance sequences in those romantic fantasy movies, but no. You both dance to pop and hip-hop, which is a tad more sensual.

You both like to practice together and even compete against each other unofficially. You are definitely one of the best dancers he has ever met, and he considers it an honor whenever you ask him to dance with you.

If you perform at the Spelldrive tournament, he gets a bit jealous. All the guys’ eyes are on you as you move so gracefully, and some of them are blushing. He’s the one who helps you off the stage and off the field, and will even kiss you on camera just to prove that you’re his and he’s yours.

If you decide to give him a private dance as a joke, he will play along. He will most definitely be dancing up on you. In the end, you’ll be the one flustered. What did we learn today, kids? Don’t prank Jamil because it will backfire.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #disney twst #twst wonderland #kalim x reader #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #kalim #kalim al asim #twst jamil viper #twst jamil #jamil viper x reader #jamil #jamil viper #twst jamil x reader

297 notes · View notes

domtheforestgnome · 3 months

Text

Some moments in season 3 of Young Royals that stand out for me ep.4

Now, when I'm sharing with you my reactions, I can see that as the season went on, I calmed, so there wasn;t as much screaming and gasping after three first episodes. But also, I made 2h of a break before watching another 2 episodes. Also, the atmosphere in a season visibly changed. So here I'm talking about ep 1 and ep 2 and here ep 3. And here is episode 4 moments that made me burst in laugh, gasped, made me forgot how to breathe or wanted to puke.

Wille quoting Kristina

I had so mixed feelings about it. I felt sorry for him, but I was also angry but also sad. It felt like arguing with my parents, and hearing them say some idioms or sayings, bc they are left out of logical arguments.

2. Jan-Olof and his advice

I waited. I knew he will say something that will make my (and SImon's) blood boil.

And he did.

3. Strike in Hillerska

As a burnt out climate activist who were arrested by police for some non-violent action, I find it hilarious to see students of Hillerska doing sitting. The whole sequence was very funny too me and my friends with pretty similar background. As we have this experience in making strikes, we have to say that it wasn't very best way of preparing strike (the was not any preparing actually). This is not how you do it haha

4. Wille joining the strike bc he won't face any consequences

Simon summed up Wilhelm here so well... And I love how Simon makes Wille hear what he's saying.

5. Getting more in Eriksson's family story

This felt like very important information, and I like we keep digging in their family dynamics. Like - he wanted to have contact with Micke! I think it hits different bc we get to know something new about characters even though the series is ending and it's so surprising and doing things to me. Young Royals creators, why are you so genious?

6. Simon once again summing up

I love this man.

7. This conversation

This conversation happening in their window spot and as i was reminding my friend that they kissed there for the first time, the music from that moment started to play.

They needed to remind me I have to breath.

But the events made me somehow hungry too. But for more talk, which didn't happened, bc Simon cut it. I mean - instead of sayin "Me too" after Wille's "I don't want to hurt you" - he could talk more about how deleting his accounts made him feel. That day was clearly difficult for him from the moment it happened...

8. ...yet goofy Simon made me forgot for a minute about it

happens

and I like this site of Simon from the season 1.

9. Those rich kids are crazy

But we laughed loud, while watching it.

Yeah, do exactly bc of what the school has problems o.O

10. Those sleepy puffy faces

so smoll and tiny <3

11. Rosh & Ayub

I will miss their trio

12. When August said what I left was comming since he spoke with Nils 2 episodes earlier.

I felt full.

I love this show.

I'm not ready for today. There won't be a post about ep5 bc it's still too much for me. I won't be rewatching it today before final episode.

I'm so grateful for this show. And the people that were involved in making it.

Sending love to them today.

#young royals #wilmon #simon eriksson #crown prince wilhelm #edvin ryding #omar rudberg #young royals season 3 #yr s3 spoilers

29 notes · View notes

jennazed · 1 year

Text

So today I was kinda bored and decided to read the "Be More Chill" book to see if there were any differences between the book and the musical.... and OH BOY WERE THERE SOME DIFFERENCES!!! I wrote down some of them, enjoy (beware spoilers obviously)

Jeremy has humiliation sheets to quantiatively determine how much of an incel he is

Madeline is now Elizabeth?

Who tf is Mark, why does he exist, and why is Jeremy friends with him?

Everyone knows Jeremy wrote the letter to Christine, but now he wants to give her a chocolate shakespeare bc he is a total flirt (TM)

Jeremy's mom is around and has a divorce lawyer-ing firm with his dad now

Michael is a white boy with an asian girl fetish

JEREMY IS A THEATER KID! JEREMY IS A THEATER KID! JEREMY IS A THEATER KID! JEREMY IS A THEATER KID! JEREMY IS A THEATER KID!

Mr Reyes doesn't microwave his own hot pockets, he uses child labor to do so instead

Christine is super angsty like she needs an anger management therapist or smth

Michael's brother got a squip apparently and is going to Brown University

Oh btw, Jeremy's dad doesn't even wear underwear around the house he just lets his son see his junk?

Michael also has a knee fetish apparently???

Sadly, the play is the actual Midsummer's Dream and not a Midsummer's Nightmare about Zombies

Ok Christine is no longer angsty?

Nvm she is angsty again that was quick

Jeremy goes "Heh-heh." a lot

According to Michael, all girls are shirt thieves and should never be trusted

Ok Christine is no longer angsty again and apparently she is very specific on how relationships are supposed to be formed bc of course she is

The whole Halloween party is now a school-sanctioned event

Is Jeremy a furry? what does "sometime tonight I’ve got to find pics on the Internet of girls with tails" mean???????

Instead of dressing up as Juliet, Christine dresses up as a prostitute angel for the halloween party

Btw michael knows all about the squip from day 1, his brother has one

Rich does his whole ITS FROM JAPAN moment at the halloween party instead of while pissing

Rich's halloween costume is marijuana

the squip is no longer "top secret can't even look it up on the internet shit" bc there's like 361 results for it on yahoo apparently

Jeremy's dad might have been gay for Ben Franklin

Instead of using his Bar Mitzvah money, Jeremy steals his aunt's beanie babies to finance his squip

LORE!! The guy from the lady's running shoes place who gives Jeremy the squip, his name is RACK LMAO

Jeremy keeps his squip-shenanigans secret from michael so we don't get the awesome sequence "try to say something cool" "i think i just blew my bar mitzvah money on a wintergreen tic-tac" "yeah not cool" :(

RACK instead of the squip says the "You can also set me to Sean Connery, Jack Nicholson, Sexy Anime Female hehehehe" line. This change is devestating

"The gayer it feels, the better your posture" YOU HEARD IT HERE FOLKS GAY PEOPLE HAVE BETTER POSTURE

In the book, the squip can see into parallel universes bc quantum physics

Brooke is Anne

Jeremy flirts with Chloe instead of Brooke/Anne man they really changed a lot of stuff around yk

Eminem dies like immediately. That squip DEFINITELY killed him lol

Fun fact: Jeremy is NOT circumcised!

Apparently you just think about the squip turning off to turn it off wow

Jeremy now does pushups whenever he sees an attractive guy on tv instead of whenever he thinks about sex

SQUIPS CAN CONTROL YOUR DREAMS? THATS SO COOL!

lol the squip hates singing

Jeremy instead of the squip says "up up down down left right left right B A start"

wait Brooke is in the book? Then who tf is Anne???

Madeline is now Katrina?

The squip becomes murderous if you drink, i love it!

how does jeremy not know what a pheromone is but is perfectly able to memorize monologues about how humanity has stopped evolving?

Jeremy is a professional boxer and will punch you in the neck and make your gameboy say "dont fuck with me >:(" if you mess with him, remember that folks

Apparently the squip thinks acting like a dog is cute?

NOOO! Some dude named Jason Finderman is the one who has his parents on the run for money laundering and hosts the party instead of Jake

Huh, no optic nerve blocking of Michael? Maybe this version of the squip is actually trying to help Jeremy

Poor Jenna :( she just wanted to talk about how Elizabeth is a slut and Jeremy turned her down

Apparently the squip is also a certified drivers ed instructor! Who knew?

JEREMYS DAD SAYS THE N WORD OK ITS PROBABLY FOR THE BEST THAT ONE GOT CHANGED

Ok smth is up with Jeremy, why is he confessing to Chloe while on ectsasy that he constantly dreams of her with a tail? AND WHY IS SHE KINDA INTO IT??

Fun fact: ectsasy turns the squip spanish

Apparently Chloe's boyfriend in the book is named Brock. Imagine going through 9 months of pregnancy and deciding that your baby should go by fucking Brock lol

Hugging legs is Jeremy's coping mechanism

I love this version of the squip: "TODO LO QUE USTED ES BUENO PARA ES SEXO DEL INTERNET." lmao

btw rich has a belly button kink

Rich named his pp Li'l Cheese Head

No michael in the bathroom moment, instead its more of a michael in a bathtub with an asian girl moment

Michael, who is still buddies with Jeremy :), rushes to tell him of the rich fire

I think rich set the fire bc alcohol + squip = murderous rage in this universe not bc he was trying to get it out

YOOO CHRISTINE IS GONNA BE A PSYCH MAJOR

Jeremy gets a therapist bc his mom freaks out when he tells her about the squip but the therapist is also squipped lol

lol all hollywood actors have squips, awesome

The squip's plan is to have Jeremy confess his love to Christine during the play in front of everybody but she calls him a loser… oof

The squip plans to write Jeremy's life story in a book and then have it kill itself with mtn dew red :O

THE WHOLE STORY WAS A BOOK JEREMY/THE SQUIP WROTE FOR CHRISTINE????? AND THEN IT JUST ENDS??????

That was one way to spend like four hours

#be more chill #bemorechill #bmc #bmc book #be more chill book #michael mell #rich goranski #jeremy heere #christine canigula #bmc squip #squip squad

133 notes · View notes

pinkmoondoll9shihtzu · 3 months

Text

Lol how do i explain this chain of events...

there's no way i can make it brief xD So..today i was in an odd mood, feeling so sensitive that any time someone talked to me i almost flinch from how overwhelming it is. And a certain heaviness. sunday is slimbo's only day off tho so i wanted to hang out. We decided to draw, and as we were finishing setting up i suddenly remembered my stereo & how i havent used it all winter. i grabbed it from my room n put it on slimbo's bedroom floor , i was sitting next to it as we focused on drawing for a few hours n listened to CDs.

then as we were about to eat dinner slimbo suggested we watch sopranos. i was reluctant due to my mood today, and ok hear me out: Something about sopranos has like, consistently felt really psychic to me, cus i dont watch it that often but every time i do it's like. that episode will be freakishly synchronized w something happening in my life at that moment. usually in a metaphorical way. Could just be power of suggestion but ive never rly had that with a show before except for a few animes.

ANYWAYS..i agreed to watch it because i felt it to be fateful that slimbo suggested it. like Ok what message is this supposed to send me today, might as well see since i'm already in this strange mood. We sat on the ground where i was drawing and started watching. and ofc, (spoiler warning,) ofc the last ep we watched was the one where junior shoots tony, so this episode is the one where tony's dying in hospital (and having his prolonged dream sequence). Which, if you know me, you maybe know about my Core Wound, but if you dont, well, it definitely involves hospitals and death and fathers. So i'm just sitting there watching like LMAO 🙂 Ok Guess this is what's on tonight's agenda Let's Gooooo 🙂

and i can see slimbo keeps looking at me with an expression like "we can turn it off" but i was like nah im going to watch this im curious now. (i havent seen season 6 of sopranos in 6 years and its the season i have the least memory of because when i watched it i was high as fuck on opiates due to getting my appendix removed (awful experience) so it kinda feels like my first time seeing it). i keep watching and THEN. THE WEIRDEST SHIT OF MY LIFE OCCURED

the fucking scene. Where carmela's in the hospital room with tony and she receives a stereo from chris. she takes it out of the box and i'm like wait....it's only showing the back of it at first, but it looks so familiar, i look over to my right where my stereo is coincidentally sitting on the floor next to me with the back facing me. it's the same. then i see her open the cd slot. ITS THE EXACT SAME FUCKING STEREO SAME color SAME model SAME Everything !!!! and the part that freaked me out most is that my stereo is always just sitting on top of my tv i almost never move it even when i use it but at that moment it just happened to be sitting there on the floor RIGHT FUCKING NEXT TO ME !!!

idk. it gave me kind of an adrenaline rush. it freaked me out. like that is bizarre i dont know. especially with the context of the stereo in the show and how it's there in the hospital to play music for tony as he's basically dying. hospital scenes r always like, intense for me on a cellular level. but that just kinda blew my mind. i got this stereo from a thrift store 2 years ago i had no idea it was in the show lol. IDK. i feel like there's a message here. something to do with my dad and healing and music. See im telling you like.....sopranos makes me consistently feel that God is joking around w me, its ususlly just a feeling but today it was tangible. so.... o_o

#timing

29 notes · View notes

the-force-awakens · 11 months

Text

strange birds

Summary: Following a skirmish with a version of Kraven, you tend to Miguel's injuries.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings: referenced canon typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries, implied/referenced past bad relationships (nothing explicit, nor is the kind of relationship defined), hurt/comfort because it's my speciality.

A/N: I really thought I was done writing reader fic, but I got attached to miguel and I opened docs and this accidentally fell out, whoops. This has been cross-posted to ao3 on my pseud there.

Every spider-person has their own canon event (or sequence of them) that they have in common, but another similarity between most of them is their sense of humor, the ability to fire off a quip at the same speed it takes them to spin a web. It helps stave off the fear; enough bravado and you start to believe in your own confidence, that you’re not fighting against forces that could easily smear you off the face of the earth. Sometimes the jokes aren’t enough: sometimes the threat is so severe that the ability to summon any jocularity or wit vanishes entirely.

Since you joined the Spider-Society (one of the first recruits, you're proud to note), you've seen more than one of your fellow vigilantes sent to the medbay after a knock out, drag down fight with an anomaly. Ben was there for almost a week after pissing off the wrong Hobgoblin.

Today, you'd been tasked with helping Miguel, Kaine and Peter B with seeking out a displaced Kraven the Hunter and the results weren't exactly pretty. Most of you'd wound up briefly visiting the medbay (except Miguel, because of course he was willing to blow off his own injuries), with the exception of Kaine who'd been ordered to stay overnight for Lyla to keep an eye on him.

Once you’re officially cleared with a clean bill of health and wish Peter B farewell – the air crackling and thrumming around you both as you trade a hug, him having already opened a portal to home – you make your way to Miguel’s lab.

Compared to the rest of HQ, the lab offers something seldom found elsewhere on Earth-928B: the illusion of peace and quiet. It’s dark compared to the rest of the building to accommodate Miguel's light sensitivity, and it’s chillier here too, making it one of your favorite places to spend your free time. The fact that Miguel’s also there just happens to be a bonus, and since he hasn’t thrown you out yet, you’d like to think that he does more than tolerate your presence – that maybe, just maybe, he might even see you as a friend.

He doesn’t have enough of those, not here. You know that he has a brother, who had been this world’s Goblin and that he’d died sometime before Miguel had saved you from imminent death when he showed up in your universe to recruit you, but outside of that, you don’t know much at all about what Miguel’s life was like before the Collider incident, before he’d gone on that fateful journey through the multiverse, before his daughter –

As you step further into the laboratory, you see her face now: another video, recorded by Lyla, plays of her and Miguel on a loop on one of the many, many screens that encircle the platform that Miguel tends to hide away on, hunkering down for days at a time to observe the web of universes, on the off chance that one might snap and the whole thing fall apart again.

In the video, you can make out Gabriella laughing and running away from Miguel, who chases her, pretending to growl menacingly even though he’s grinning so much that the twinkle in his eyes are visible through the screen; he eventually catches her around the waist, spinning them both around as peels of laughter filter softly through the speakers, an echo of another life - another universe - that Miguel can’t ever touch again filling up the room.

“Lyla, shut it off.”

The soft glow of the video vanishes, taking with it the comforting orange glow and laughter, and filling the space with even more shadows and gloom. Distantly, you can hear Lyla trying to coax Miguel into something, which he doesn’t initially respond well to until she scolds him so thoroughly that you can make out a chastised Miguel conceding, “Fine”, and with a whir, the platform slowly begins to lower itself.

In the next second, Lyla appears in front of you, glitching out briefly before gaining a stronger connection. “He needed to stay in the medbay, but he’s insistent on doing things himself, so if you could do something about that, babydoll, I’d appreciate it!” With a wink, she vanishes again, and you blink to get rid of the afterimage of her fur coat and heart shaped sunglasses.

When the platform touches ground, you finally get a glimpse at the man himself: he’s slouched in a rolly chair that neither looks comfortable or like it should be able to hold his weight, and the accents of red on his suit look darker than they should: he’d taken more of a hit than he’d let on (another constant between Spiders, but outside of Peter Parkers, few were as obstinate about accepting help as Miguel was).

“Did Lyla go get you?” Miguel asks as you approach. His eyes aren’t open, but you know his senses are heightened - even more so than yours, what with his dna having so much spider in it - enough that he’d be able to keep track of you even with them shut. It’s uncanny and sometimes unnerving, knowing he can do things like hear your heartbeat, but it’s probably the easiest thing to accept of the turn your life has taken since the concept of multiversal travel entered it.

“Believe it or not, I actually have a vested interest in whether or not you come home in one piece, O’Hara,” you tell him, stepping in front of him and surveying the damage - it’s hard to tell, when his suit is holographic but the illusion of fabric is a good one: it automatically shifts the shade of colors to adapt to injuries on his person, even if the suit never adjusts to include actual tears.

“Why’s that?” Miguel asks, obliging you as you tilt his head back, searching his face for cuts and bruises, even as he points out, “If you’re looking for signs of a concussion, you could’ve just asked if I hit my head.”

“Right, because you’ve got such a long history of informing people of your injuries, I forgot,” you reply dully, flicking him in the sternum with your finger. “And I came here because you’re my friend, dunno how many times I’m going to have to tell you that before you get it through your thick skull.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, watches you as you go and grab a first aid kit from elsewhere in the room and as you return, the faint blue light from the ceiling far, far above you both turns your suit a deeper tone of purple. Once you step in between his legs and affix him with a pointed stare, Miguel exhales in capitulation, and a second later the top half of his suit flickers out of existence, revealing a gash in his side.

“And you didn’t have this looked at in the medbay because…?” you demand, looking considerably more ill at the sight of his blood, although you quickly get to work in cracking open the medkit and selecting the supplies you need.

“Ben and Peter B needed the resources. I didn’t, as evidenced by the fact that you’re using – what the shock is Neosporin?”

“It’s a miracle worker is what it is, especially when you’re a kid who has a bad habit of skinning up her knees,” you answer, slathering the now clean injury up with the medicine. It feels like the medical equivalent of splashing a cup of water onto a blazing inferno, but you know from experience that it helps until the accelerated healing can take effect and do the rest of the job for it.

Miguel grunts at that but doesn’t say more, letting you work in silence until you pull out some gauze to wrap him up with and he finally says, “I don’t make it easy.”

“Patching you up? I’ve noticed.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I meant – you said I’m your friend. I don’t make that easy, so - why.”

You straighten back up, assessing your work for a moment before looking up at Miguel; it’s not tidy by any means, but it’ll keep him from bleeding anymore until he can start healing on his own. Judging from the look of bafflement in his crimson eyes, you know that he wants something concise and logical, that he won’t accept any other kind of explanation for why you might possibly want to spend any amount of time with him, let alone consider him a friend.

(You decide to spare him from the knowledge that he’s probably the closest friend you have in the Spider Society, if just knowing you consider him one at all is enough to throw him for a loop.)

And with that in mind, you remain quiet for a minute, mulling over how best to answer him and summoning the words to do so. “You’re direct. I know when I’m talking to you, you’re never going to bullshit me on something, and I –” you scoff, lowering your gaze from his heavy, inquisitive one - “I’ve dealt with enough people bullshitting me, making me think…think I mattered more to them than I did, or making me question everything because they didn’t want to own up to something or - or they just didn’t want to tell me the truth.”

You never had to doubt with Miguel. Maybe you weren’t sure of how far his presumed affection for you ran, but you knew that he liked having you around. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have put up with you chilling in his laboratory and catching up on your reading while he worked, nor would he have allowed you to help him now. That was more certainty than you’d had in a long time when it came to your social circle, or what remained of it.

“Most people here say that’s what makes me a jackass,” Miguel points out dryly, but when you glance back up at him, his mouth has twitched into the ghost of a smile. “And it usually deters them from sticking around.”

“I’m not most people, and we both know you deter them on purpose.”

His mouth twinges up even further, revealing one of his canines. “How else am I supposed to keep this lab quiet?”

You can’t help but laugh outright at that, the sound bouncing off the walls and echoing throughout the voluminous space. “Too bad it doesn’t have any effect on me.”

“You’re not noisy - and even when you are, I don’t - it’s not -” Miguel briefly raises one hand helplessly, before finally getting out - “the noise isn’t bad when it's from…from a friend.”

You don’t throw your arms around him in a bear hug like you want, because you know he likes his personal space, but you do beam at him and squeeze his hand with yours.

Miguel O’Hara doesn’t have many friends, outside of Lyla and Peter B and Jessica, and from what you know of his past, you don’t blame him – better than anyone, you understand, you really do. The fact that he counts you as a friend, as someone he can rely on, is overwhelming.

Perhaps more than you realized, because Miguel reaches up suddenly and gently – always so conscious of his talons – wipes away a stray tear from the corner of your eye. “You alright?”

You nod a couple times. “Yeah, just - not used to hearing that, anymore.”

Miguel hums, the noise rumbling with its disapproval, but he doesn’t say more on the matter, just jerks his head in the direction of his screens and says, like he’s pulling teeth, “Could use some help here, if you’re up for it.”

You know he’s only asking for help to give you a distraction, but that small sacrifice has something warm blooming in your chest, that he’d swallow his pride to help you. ”Yeah, I’m up for it. You got any popcorn?”

The side-eye you get tells you all you need to know, but within an hour, you’ve got a bucket of it from the cafeteria plopped between the both of you as you watch, and you can only hope that your presence takes some of the burden off Miguel’s shoulders, in the way that being near him has that yawning mouth of raw wanting and loneliness inside you dulling into an almost bearable white noise.

You think, when he smiles for a third time at one of your anecdotes, that it just might.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #myfic #reader fic

95 notes · View notes

dialovers-translations · 1 year

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS GRAND EDITION Yoyaku Tokuten Drama CD “A Heated Battle! The Ball-Game Competition’s Preliminaries!?”

Original title: 熱闘！球技大会前哨戦!?

Source: Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION Yoyaku Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Toriumi Kousuke, Katsuyuki Konishi, Midorikawa Hikaru, Kaji Yuki, Hirakawa Daisuke, Kondou Takashi, Takahiro Sakurai, Kimura Ryouhei, Tatsuhisa Suzuki, Kishio Daisuke

Translator’s note: This is definitely one of those CDs which would benefit a lot from visuals. There’s the background noises - of course - but those can be rather vague. During the dodgeball sequence, you can constantly hear the boys making random ‘hah’ and ‘ugh’ noises as they throw the ball. I didn’t actually translate all of it though because at times other characters start talking on top of it and it would just become a mess. ^^;; Overall this was a pretty fun CD though. Personal highlights being Shuu doing a slam dunk and the MC outsmarting the boys not once, but twice. She’ll probably end up regretting it afterwards though, poor girl.

Laito: Hey, Bitch-chan! Have you decided which event to join at the upcoming ball-game tournament? (1)

You shake your head.

Shuu: You still haven’t made up your mind? Still the same old Slowpoke, huh?

Subaru: They’re all mixed teams with students across all three different grades, right? So why can’t we just let the people who want to participate do their thing and call it a day?

Reiji: If this was a normal school, the different classes would be facing off against each other. However, Ryoutei Academy does not have a large enough number of students to apply said system.

Shuu: They should just cancel it already then. What a drag…

Kou: Per usual, you guys lack any kind of motivation, huh? Oh well, that only plays in our advantage, I guess.

Ayato: Keh! Those Mukami bastards…!

The Mukami’s approach them.

Ruki: What a rude way to greet someone.

Azusa: Good…evening…

Kanato: What brings you four here today?

Yuma: Isn’t that obvious!? ーー Oi, Sow! You’ll be joinin’ our team for the ball-game competition!

Azusa: I’m sure…you’d have a much better time with us…than if you were to join the Sakamaki’s team…Justin wants you to team up with us as well…

Kou: I’m sure you would want to make the best of the day, right? We’re actually going to try our best so I’m sure you’d be able to enjoy the different events as well!

Ruki: There you have it. If you understand, come with us.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Che…Don’t be decidin’ that by yourself now!

*Rustle*

Ayato: Chichiashi’s gonna be on my team. …Right?

Kanato: Ayato. She will obviously form a team with me. That was your intention all along, wasn’t it? You’re always so indecisive, so I’m being so kind as to make the decision for you. You belong to me after all. … Right, Teddy?

Laito: Look who’s Miss Popular all of a sudden! What will you do? The choice is yours~

Shuu: Haah…What a drag…Then why don’t you just participate in all categories?

Ayato: Oh! Mr. Sloth actually has a decent idea for once!

Reiji: I suppose that would fix the issue.

Laito: Nfu~ I like the sound of that. I can’t wait to pamper you after you’re all worn-out and exhausted from having to participate in all games~

Ruki: Heh…You guys never change, do you?

Kou: You should just leave these tyrants and come with us instead! We’ll treat you much nicer, you know?

Subaru: Fuck off…Oi, come here!

Reiji: You should team up with us. …If the message is clear, thenーー

You make a suggestion.

Reiji: Haah? We should all form one big team together? …Are you out of your mind?

Shuu: …Hah. You really have a few loose screws.

Kanato: You really think our families would gladly team up together? You can’t even figure out that much?

Laito: I’m impressed, Bitch-chan! You’re being loved by so many different men! …So, what will you do? Will you choose us? Or the Mukami family?

You frown.

Azusa: You can’t…make up your mind…?

Laito: You really are indecisive, aren’t you?

Kou: In that case, why don’t we use the different categories of the ball-tournament to decide on the matter? Whichever team wins gets to have M-neko-chan on their team!

Ayato: A showdown, huh? I like the sound of that!

Reiji: If we’re going based on the ball-game tournament, that would be five different sports in total, being basketball, soccer, table tennis, softball and dodgeball, correct?

Kou: Exactly! We’ll hold five different rounds for each category with one member of each respective family participating at a time. Whoever wins a total of three rounds first is the winner! The rules will be the same as during the actual tournament. That’s fair enough, right?

Reiji: I see. That does sound reasonable.

Ruki: It’s settled then.

Shuu: Pwaah…Whatever.

Ayato: Hehe…I’ll make you regret challengin’ me!

Reiji: Well then, to keep things fair, let us decide who shall play which sport by pulling straws.

Ayato: Haah!? I’m goin’ for basketbal, obviously!

Kou: It wouldn’t be fair if you get to choose the sport you’re best at, right? I figured we’d have to decide it this way, so I’ve already prepared a lottery!

*Rattle*

Kou: Voila!

Laito: You thought of everything, didn’t you. Well then, I suppose I’ll draw first.

Kanato: Excuse me!? Who said you could go first!? I’m going before you!

Ruki: No redraws. You have to settle with whichever event you pulled on your first try. Am I clear?

*TIMESKIP*

Reiji: Well then, let us start with the table tennis competition. Subaru, Azusa. Please get ready.

Subaru: Che…Why me!?

Azusa: Good luck…

Subaru: Tsk…I’ll get this over with real quick. Hah!

*THUD*

Laito: Wow! Look at that ball go!

Subaru: Hell yeah!

Ayato: Keh…Don’t just send the thing flying!

Reiji: Haah…Subaru. Do you know the rules of table tennis? When you serve, the ball has to bounce once on your side and once on the opponent’s side of the court.

Subaru: Wha…!? O-Of course…!

Ruki: So you were playing without even knowing the rules?

Subaru: N-No…! I just went a lil’ overboard, that’s all!

Azusa: Well then…My turn next…There!

*Thud*

Azusa: Ah…It got caught in the net…

Reiji: That’s minus one point for the opponent as well. I suppose that covers for Subaru’s blunder from earlier.

Ayato: Oi, Subaru! Don’t mess up on the serve this time!

Subaru: Fuck off! Just you watch! …Hah!

*THUD*

Ayato: And there you go fuckin’ up again right as I warned you!?

Azusa: Then…I’ll try one more time as well…There.

*Thud*

Yuma: In the net again!?

Ruki: Haah…Azusa as well, huh?

Subaru: Che…This time I’ll get it right for sure! Hah!

*THUD*

Azusa: This time for sure…I’ll get the ball to the other side…

*Thud*

Subaru: I’m only just warmin’ up!

*THUD*

Azusa: Why can’t I get it over the net…? …There.

*Thud*

Subaru: Hah!

*THUD*

Subaru and Azusa continue to fall to land a proper serve.

Shuu: …Say, what is this sport called again?

Yuma: Table tennis…I think?

Laito: Heeh~ I had no idea that in table tennis, both parties just continue to exchange serves forever and ever~

Ruki: At this rate, a winner will never be decided…

Reiji: I suppose that leaves us with no other choice. Let us decide on a winner through rock-paper-scissors.

Subaru: Hah!? Don’t decide that without us!

Kou: What’s the point in continuing at this point? We’re all bored of watching you two, Subaru-kun. Azusa-kun, you’re good with rock-paper-scissors, right?

Azusa: Mmh.

Ruki: It’s decided then.

Subaru: Fuck…!

He tosses his racket away.

*Thud*

Subaru: Guess I have no other choice then. …Oi, let’s hurry up and settle this score.

Azusa: Oh…Sure.

Subaru & Azusa: Rock…! …Paper! …Scissors!

Subaru: Fuck yeah!

Azusa: Ah…

Yuma: Azusa lost, huh?

Azusa: I’m sorry…If this was a fist fight instead…I would have gladly taken the L…

Yuma: No you should win that one!

Laito: Well then…Basketball is up next, right? Let me think…I guess we can make this a one-on-one shooting show-off?

Ruki: Yes. Each person gets three attempts and whoever lands the most shots wins, okay? …I am up next.

Reiji: From our side…It’s Shuu.

Shuu: Haah…Why me?

Reiji: It was decided in a fair manner. Go ahead and make use of your height for once.

Shuu: What a drag…

Azusa: Ruki…Try your best…

Ruki: Yes, I will. …Well then, I shall go first.

*Woosh*

Kou: Wow~! Nice shot!

Ayato: Tsk…That bastard, I can’t believe he landed from far away like it was nothin’! ー Oi, Shuu! Don’t you dare miss now!

Laito: Good luck, Shuu~!

Shuu: Haah…What a drag…

*Woosh*

*Thud thud thud*

Shuu: …

Laito: …Ah.

Kou: …Ah-ah~ He missed.

Ayato: What are you doin’, lazy-ass!?

Reiji: Haah…You’re putting us to shame as the eldest son of this family.

Ayato: Lame-o!

Shuu: Shut up. Why must I even do this? ーー Besides, why would you even try to land from far away? It’d be much easier to just put it straight through the ring, right?

Azusa: Eh?

Shuu dribbles towards the ring and performs a slam dunk.

*Thud*

Ayato: Oh…!

Azusa: Wow…

Kanato: I think…this is the first time in my life…I’ve seen Shuu move around this much…

Reiji: I suppose miracles do happen after all. I just hope this isn’t a bad omen for what’s to come.

Kou: However, Ruki-kun takes the victory here, right? Slam dunks are forbidden according to the tournament's rules after all.

Ruki: Yes. …Too bad for you, Sakamaki Shuu.

Ayato: Haah!? That doesn’t matter right now, does it!?

Azusa: We’ll hold five different rounds for each category with one member of each respective family participating at a time….and the rules will be the same as during the actual tournament…That’s what we decided on, no?

Ruki: Breaking the rules leads to disqualification. I am fairly certain we established that beforehand.

Reiji: We most definitely did. We take this loss.

Laito: Nfu~ Shuu tried so hard too. What a shame.

Ayato: Tsk…!

Kanato: I do not mind. We just have to win the next one, that’s all.

Laito: So, what should we do next? Soccer? Softball?

Ayato: I’ll go next! ーー Oi, Yuma! Compete with me in soccer!

Yuma: Heh! Ya sure have a big mouth! I’ll crush ya real quick!

Reiji: ーー Listen carefully. You will compete in a penalty shootout and alternate to take single-shots at the goal in a penalty format. Whoever has the most points after five turns is the winner.

Ayato: Bring it on!

Yuma: Hell yeah! Gimme yer best shot, mate! …Ey!

Ayato: …In your dreams!

*Thud*

Ayato: How’s that!? I won’t let a single one of yer shots through!

Yuma: Che…

They switch places.

Ayato: How’s that!? It’s my turn next! …Ugh!

Yuma: Heh! Ya think ya stand a chance with a weak shot like that!?

They switch places again.

Yuma: I’ll show ya what a real shot looks like!

*Thud*

Ayato: …Ugh! Yours is just as weak!

Ayato: The way you talk like you’re the shit really gets on my nerves!

*Thud*

Yuma: …Ugh! Ayato…You can kick like ya mean it, ya know!?

They continue switching places and successfully stopping each other’s shots.

Reiji: …They’ve long surpassed the five shot mark.

Laito: This back-and-forth is giving me flashbacks…

Shuu: Just having to witness it feels like a chore…

Azusa: Should we resort to rock-paper-scissors again?

Ruki: We already had to rely on it earlier, so it wouldn’t be ideal.

Kou: In that case…Ah! Look! There’s takoyaki over there!

Ayato: …What!?

Ayato looks away.

Yuma: Hah! You’re wide open, mate!

*Thud*

Ayato: Aah…!!

Kou: Goal~!

Ayato: You bastard…Kou!

Shuu: Who is even so stupid to fall for that…?

Subaru: Oi! Doesn’t that go against the competition’s rules as well!?

Ruki: There is nothing in the rules which mentions it is prohibited, therefore Kou’s actions are perfectly legal.

Reiji: Haah…With Ayato’s loss, it is now 2 against 1 in their favor. We cannot afford any more losses.

Azusa: Fufu…Aren’t you glad, Eve? You should be able to take part in the ball-game competition together with us…

Kou: Pwaah~ I want to go home already…So let’s quickly take the victory home.

Kanato: Ugh…I do not like this one bit. Whether it’s Ayato’s sheer stupidity…or the way those Mukami’s are acting as if they have won already. Softball is next…I shall turn the tables by winning this one.

Ayato: Haah? Kanato, you can play softball?

Kanato: It’s your fault for losing! That’s why I have to step up now! So let’s hurry up and get started already! Who is playing from the Mukami team!?

Kou: That would be me~

Kanato: Okay. …Please watch me, okay, Teddy?

*Rustle*

Laito: Kanato-kun, huh? …Do we think we have a chance at winning?

Reiji: It’s not like we have much other choice, do we?

Laito: I know but…Do we consider it a win for Kanato-kun if he can hit one ball?

Ruki: Yes. The other competitions already took far too long after all. If Kanato gets three outs, Kou is the winner. However, if he can hit one ball, Sakamaki Kanato takes the W instead.

Laito: You heard him! Kanato-kun, what do you think? Do you think you can hit it?

Kanato: Oh, shut up, Laito! That would be a piece of caーー

Kou: Here it comes!

*Woosh*

*Thud*

Kanato: Ughー!

Ayato: A miss right away?

Kanato: Shut up! I

Kou: Here comes number two!

Kanato: Wha…!?

*Woosh*

Kanato: Ugh…!

Shuu: Pwaah…I guess this competition is as good as over, huh? Which means I finally get to go home, thank god.

Reiji: What do you mean, ‘thank god’!? Good grief…The Sakamaki house must never lose to the Mukami’s!

Laito: Right? They’ll take Bitch-chan away from us as well. …I suppose I have no other choice. ーー Kanato-kun! Subaru-kun just told me that he’ll throw Teddy out if you don’t hit the next ball!

Subaru: H-Haah…!? The fuck!? I never said anythin’ like that!

Kanato: I won’t let you…lay a single finger on Teddy, Subaru!!

Subaru: But I never said I would!!

Reiji: Not a bad provocation coming from Laito…Kanato! If you don’t want to lose Teddy, you better hit the ball and end this showdown!

Kanato: Hic…Throw away Teddy…Uu…Outrageous…

Kou: That’s three outs for you!

*Woosh*

Kanato: Not in a million yearsーー!!

Kanato hits the ball.

*Thud*

Kou: Hah…!

Ayato: Oh!

Laito: A homerun~!

Kanato runs up to Teddy.

Kanato: Teddy~~~!!

*Rustle*

Kanato: How foolish of me to leave you alone with that brute of a Subaru, Teddy! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are never in danger again…by locking that guy up!

Subaru: For the millionth time, it wasn’t me!

Reiji: We’re not even with two points each.

Ruki: Only dodgeball remains.

Reiji: How about all ten of us compete in this one?

Azusa: All of us…? So four against six…? Shouldn’t we get some kind of handicap then…?

Reiji: Oh dear? Are you implying that you stand no chance against us otherwise?

Yuma: Haah!? Don’t be spoutin’ bullcrap!

Kou: Exactly! That sounds a bit unreasonable, doesn’t it? …You agree, don’t you, Ruki-kun?

Ruki: Like the others are saying, I do question the fairness of it. However…Right. We are willing to compete under those circumstances but if we do manage to win despite the disadvantage, I assume we will be rewarded accordingly?

Reiji: Very well. If your team wins, not only will she join your team but we will grant any one of your requests.

Ruki: Hmph. Deal. It’s settled then.

Ayato: Heh! This time we’ll crush you for sure!

They start playing dodgeball.

Laito: Ahーah~ Everyone’s totally fired up…

Azusa: Ah…The point of this game…is to avoid getting hit by the ball…right? …That seems really difficult…

Yuma: Oi, Azusa! Don’t ya dare jump in front of the ball!

Ruki: Kou, Yuma, Azusa. We should aim for Sakamaki Shuu first since he is the least likely to try and dodge. The middle triplet is second on the list.

Kou: Roger!

Yuma: Let’s get this over with and settle the score! …Take this!!

*Woosh*

*Thud*

Shuu: …Ah.

Yuma: Hah! Bingo!

Reiji: Ah! The ball’s in the opponent’s hands again!

Yuma: Next!

Kanato: Ah! Teddy, watch out!

*Thud*

Kanato: Guah!

Ayato: …The fuck, Kanato!? Why did you let yourself get hit to protect that stupid bear!?

Reiji: We’ve lost two members because Shuu failed to claim the ball…I cannot believe he allowed himself to get hit so easily. Pathetic…Good god.

Ruki: It’s four against four now. We’ve evened the playing field. …Let’s go!

*Woosh*

Azusa: …Woah. That was close…

Reiji: Hah…!

*Woosh*

Yuma: Wait, you little…!

*Woosh*

Shuu: Pwah…I’m sleepy…

The remaining eight boys continue playing dodgeball.

Kanato: Nobody’s getting hit…It will be morning soon. Just how much longer until this is over with?

Shuu: You really think there will be an end to this?

Kanato: There better be! We can’t even return to the manor like this! …You feel the same way, don’t you? ーー Ah!

Shuu: Hm?

Kanato: …She’s gone!

Subaru: Hm? What’s wrong, Kanato?

Yuma: …!! The Sow’s gone! What’s going on!?

*Thud thud thud*

Ruki: This is…?

*Flip*

Ruki: A letter?

Ayato: ‘...I’m sorry. I just can’t.’ ーー Chichinashi! She made a run for it!

Ruki: Kou, Yuma, Azusa. Split up and search for her.

Reiji: You lot as well. Hurry up and find her!

Subaru: Don’t tell me what to do!

Yuma: Che…Who does that damn Sow think she’s dealin’ with, huh!?

*TIMESKIP*

Laito: Haah, haah, haah…Bitch-chan! We finally found you!

Yuma: Sow! Explain yourself!

Azusa: Haah, haah…Exactly…I tried so hard…to stay in the game…and not let myself get hit by the ball…

You explain.

Ayato: Haah!? You already decided to join the girls’ team!?

Ruki: …!?

Reiji: What do you mean!?

Azusa: So…We can’t get hurt together at the…ball-game competition…?

Kou: No, I don’t think that was ever the intention…

Ruki: I see…If she has already submitted her application to the school, then there is nothing we can do about it. Let’s go home.

Yuma: Tsk…I can’t believe we got played like this…

Laito: Ah-aah~ I never thought you out of all people would do this to us. I guess today was just a wasted effort then. I better get plenty of blood in return to make up for it, okay? So, Bitch-chan, why don’t the two of us ーー Hold up…She’s gone again!?

Subaru: Where did she go!?

Shuu: Guess she ran away? Actually doing the smart thing for once.

Reiji: She sure has some nerve to run away from us not once, but twice.

Kanato: Kuh…I can’t forgive her. I better punish her thoroughly after this!

Ayato: Fuck! You best believe I’m suckin’ you dry next we meet, Chichinashiiiiーー!!

ーー THE END ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #shuu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

295 notes · View notes