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tojisun · 6 hours

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Angsty thot on the the ghost x reader x soap blurb;

I've been thinking about the what if Soap did actually reciprocate Ghost's advances? For a moment, he forgets reader. Finally, FINALLY, Soap thinks... until the bliss dies down and he remembers reader and guilt sets in. Ghost's only all too happy to show off to reader. Being affectionate with Johhny, leaving whatever marks were left visible, staking a claim that he won.

Reader, of course, is dismayed and feels betrayed. But how much can she really feel? It fucking sucks, it does, that Ghost doesn't care what she thinks or feels and she wasn't in a committed relationship with Soap. So if they were to pursue a relationship, what can she really do about it?

HOW I AM AFTER READING THIS anon i wanna crawl into your mind and poke around your brain because how could you (ext)

johnny knows he hasn’t been honest with himself lately. that, in the face of ghost’s desires—because nothing less could describe the fire in his lieutenant’s eyes; it’s all so heated and leashed. hungry. aching—he denies himself and pretends he cannot see what is crystal clear.

he pretends that every brushing touch was an accident, that every heavy look was a trick of the light. that the way simon calls his name—johnny, with the ‘y’ dripping from his mouth like honey—was all circumstantial.

friendly. platonic, truly.

but it’s becoming more frequent. more passionate. more territorial.

of course, it was all a matter of when, really, was johnny going to fall. and the answer, apparently, is right now.

his shirt is torn off his body, fatigues falling beside two pairs of boots. warm lips, fever-hot, are on his skin, tracing scalding trails that has him trembling. he feels jittery, bones rattling within his flesh. he feels untethered, floaty. nirvana pinched between his fingers.

then, he falls, body thudding against the mattress. the metal of his bed posts creaks, a gunshot in the silence, and johnny freezes. his mind catching up to his heart.

this isn’t—

simon towers over him, his scarred chest heaving in his ragged breaths. the mask is off, discarded to the floor, and johnny, he—

well.

he sees the man that his soul sings to—cheeks flushed, bright cherries, and eyes dark with yearning. simon looks at him like johnny’s all that matters in the world; like all that he’s fighting to live for is johnny.

johnny feels this bloating in the back of his throat, something in his heart swelling until all he tastes is his breaths. his lips wobble, teeth chattering. they stop at ghost’s tender touch, his callused hand cupping johnny’s cheek.

simon's thumb swipes at the skin just underneath his eyes. his lips, crooked, tug up in a smile. “y’r much too gorgeous, johnny.”

johnny doesn’t know what happened next, only that he was stuffed with a burn that scorches from within and engulfed whole; devoured every way possible until simon's marks—from teeth and just his overall brute strength—took. his throat aches, scratchy, and his skin throbs with the memory of their love-making.

he, well, he wept. he tucked his head on the crook of simon's neck, breathing him in, unable to explain the euphoria simmering in the pit of his stomach.

simon loves him. he desired him every way possible so who wouldn't—

who wouldn't lose themselves?

(johnny thinks of you and the memories blur; what had been fiery passion morphs into something ugly. into something cruel.)

there was something different in ghost's gait—that's the first thing you noticed upon walking into the mess hall. he was more relaxed, more open in a way you have never seen from him before. he even met your eyes as you walk towards their little huddled group, the first time in a while, and you are unable to look away because there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place.

it still spoke of danger, of a walled barrier that he firmly put between you two, but it was undiscernible.

still poised, though, for the hunt.

kyle greets you first, kind and gentle, but before you could reply to him, johnny's tugging you away. a protest builds on the tip of your tongue, ready to slip past your chapped lips, but you freeze, feet stumbling as the air is knocked out of your lungs.

"bonnie–"

"oh," you say, a whispered gasp, your eyes unable to drag from the bruises on johnny's neck. not made with unkind intensions, if the teeth mars were any indication.

briefly, you wondered if johnny's met someone else to satiate his desires. if, in your absence, he sought to snuff the burning need from someone else. you've been away for three months, after all, chasing a lead in shanghai and tracking them all the way to tianjin. it must have been too long for johnny too.

(you wonder why your heart twinges at the idea of johnny finding comfort in someone else that isn't you.)

but the thought is doused by an ice-cold realization.

"it's– you know that i–"

"oi, 'tavish," ghost's voice rings from behind you.

you tip your head back just enough to see him, to see with your eyes what must he must have done, but he's back to ignoring you again.

it seemed like now that you've noticed what it was that had him elated, ghost no longer wanted to interact with you. not a word nor a touch. not even a glance.

johnny bites his bottom lip, shoulders hunching into himself.

"i'm sor–"

"i have to go," you say, your voice even sounds foreign to your own ears. "i have to, uhm, to report."

you shuffle away from between them, your palm rising to press onto your chest as though that could truly stop the splintering of your heart. as though your heart was truly wounded and that the pressure could stop the bleeding.

but it aches. dear god, everything aches.

ANON THIS HURT ME SO BAD AND I COULDNT HELP MYSELF FROM RAMBLING IM SORRY!! god im wailing so much like i literally was bug eyed staring at ur ask bc OW??? (btw reader is gn in this ghoap x reader angst)

#anon #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x ghost #ghoap x reader #cod x reader #ask #suns

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roguelov · 2 days

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Crimson Stained Petals (Chapter 4)

Summary: Set in the 1880s, rumors and mysteries swirled around a quaint town, mostly about a lord tucked far into the woods. Arriving in town, you could not deny your curiosities, but you were not here to stay. Or so you thought. Low on funds, and a job for a live-in servant advertised in the paper, you now found yourself in the home of Lord Morpheus - the source of all rumors. Passions and tensions will grow. Questions will be answered, but may come at a hefty price. And a promise may be broken. But, is Lord Morpheus, and those few residents, truly as scary as they seem?

Words Count: ~3.4k

Reader: Fem

Warnings: minor angst (dealing with nightmares and depression), mostly fluff, pining, blood (reader gets minor cut)

Chapter 3 and more chapters to come!

Over the few days, Morpheus had noticed a dreary cloud forming and seemingly growing over your head. It casted its gloom and rain dampening your radiance. Your smile was not quite as bright, it barely reached your now sullen eyes. Your presence was no longer felt in every room. Your laughter, your occasional humming, your musical-like steps were gone. You were a shadow, a husk. And big by bit, you retreated from him; you actively avoided him, or so he believed.

“Lucienne,” Morpheus asked one evening.

The pair was in the study. Papers littered all over the desk along with uncapped inkwells and used fountain pens. They poured and poured over the dull necessities of maintaining the bookshop - going over profits, bills, shipments, and new orders.

Lucienne peered at her lord over her glasses quizzically. “Yes?”

“Have you spoken with our dear mortal recently?” Morpheus still stood over the desk and continued to scan over documents, trying not to look bothered by his inquiring question or your sudden change.

“No, I haven’t.”

A tension set in his jaw. “I see.”

Lucienne quickly picked up on Morphues’s displeasure. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. She was not oblivious to her lord’s far more chirper attitude since welcoming you into the manor. “May I ask what brought up this question?”

“Curiosity,” he replied nonchalantly.

Lucienne hummed, unconvinced. “Curiosity? Or concern?”

Her question stirred a reaction out of him. Morpheus whipped his head, now facing Lucienne directly. “And if I am, is there anything wrong in worrying about her?” His question was one of concern for you, yet his tone in which he spoke was biting - what exactly was Lucienne implying?

Lucienne’s smile only grew. She calmly responded, “No, sir.”

Upon seeing Lucienne’s calmness, Morpheus’s shoulders instantly dropped. His anger was misplaced. All the fight was drained from him, and soon the truth spilled out. “She -“ he sighed - “she does not seem happy and … and I do not know if it is because of living here or because of troubled nights.”

Lucienne thought of how there was an easy solution to his conundrum: he should speak with you. However, she held her tongue this time and instead opted to ask a question regarding you. “Troubled nights?”

“The other night, she spoke of having a nightmare.” Morpheus’s eyes shone with a heavy sorrow. “She … she was utterly frightened, Lucienne. Her fear nearly choked me.”

Lucienne frowned. “I was not aware, but a nightmare is a nightmare. There is not much one can do.”

Morpheus sighed, dropping into his chair. He tipped his head back and stared blankly up at the high ceiling. His heart - ancient and heavily barricaded - ached to see you smile. Just once more, just for a moment. In such a brief period, you had invaded his thoughts. He did not realize he craved it, sought it out, until it was taken from him.

Taken.

It seemed many things were taken from him in recent years. He pushed aside those thoughts and painful memories. He ran his hands over his face then through his tousled hair. Such complex feelings swirled inside his chest and constricted his heart.

“You care for her.” Morpheus lifted his head, looking towards Lucienne. She continued, “Which is never a bad thing, sir. She has brought new life here.”

And in you, she thought.

“I care for all of you,” he answered, dismissing her comment.

“You do, and we appreciate it.”

He raised an eyebrow at the weighted pause at the end of her sentence. “But?”

She smiled to herself. “I believe the care you feel for us and her are different.”

Morpheus frowned. Was he truly so easy to read? Did he truly become enamored with his housekeeper so quickly like a tale of forbidden romance? Did he truly want a partner … or did he want something else? He turned his head away, grumbling to himself.

Care? If one could call it such.

Does a farmer not care for his slaughter? Care, hunger, desire, it all can twist together. They can form into complex knots, making it impossible to tell where one may begin or end.

“For you, my lord.”

A beautiful picturesque rose dripping in a passionate red appeared in front of Morpheus’s face. He was working tediously in his study, and surprisingly failed to hear him. He just appeared, a magical and strange habit of his.

Morpheus blinked, gently taking the rose out of his hand. “Oh, uh, thank you.”

He smiled warmly like a sunny day. His wondrous new grander had already made such a change in the once dismal manor. Colors of all sorts were injected into the very foundation. Flowers bloomed wildly and freely, life blossomed with a new fever. “I thought you might like it, sir. Red suits you perfectly.”

”How do you do it, Lucienne?” Morphues whispered softly, changing the conversation. His voice was filled with sorrow as memories resurfaced. Sweet, painful memories, ones he wished he could forget yet also wouldn’t trade anything in the world for they were more precious than any gold or jewelry.

“Meaning what, sir?”

”To be close to her, to not be affected by her?”

Ah.

”Well, someone taught me control.” Lucienne slowly organized papers. “Someone had once found me in an awful state and was able to bring me back to my senses. Now, part of me cannot bare the smell of human blood without my stomach twisting into disgust.”

Morpheus’s eyes softened.

Lucienne gathered up the papers, ready to part of the night. “A solution to your problem: perhaps you can try to talk to her and cheer her up, sir. I’m sure she would appreciate the gesture.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And how would I do that?”

She chuckled, almost in a knowing way, and strolled out of the study. “I believe you will figure it out, sir.”

The soft click of the door echoed in the now quiet, lonely space. Morpheus peered over to the window with its curtains drawn. Even drawn closed, the setting sunlight streamed through the cracks trying to warm the earth in its last moments. Tilting his head, he saw the surrounding woods fade in the dying light. As his gaze darted around taking in the surroundings, it landed on a corner of dark greens and deep reds. Lucienne’s words replayed in his head. He was on his feet, already looking for you before he fully understood it himself. His feet carried him downstairs towards your room, however he stopped in the dining room. Looking ahead, he instead saw you sitting in the sun room. You were on the couch with your back to him and your head bowed. He immediately changed course.

Quietly, he opened the door. The potted trees and fauna stretched its shadows and created unique jagged shapes. A soft orange bathed over the room. The fractured soft light shone through the glass and casted you in an ethereal halo of twinkling gold.

You were a goddess of light.

As he walked towards you, you did not stir. You had heard him by the high pitched squeak of the door and the faint clacking of the heels on the tile floor. He stopped by your side, peering down at you. “I see you are still reading that book from before.”

You laughed, a quick huff through your nose, and closed the book in your lap. You glanced up at him with a forced smile. “Trying and failing, sir.”

His eyes swept over your face. Gaunt was the first word to come to mind. You appeared gauntly and ragged. Bags were carved under your eyes, and your skin had lost its glow. He pushed on, trying not to dwell and stare at your new appearance. “And what has your mind occupied this time?”

The other night. The nightmares. An unpleasant past. You.

“I suppose a lot of things,” you answered with a heavy sigh.

Morpheus frowned slightly. Yet, he quickly wiped it away, replacing it with a small endearing smile. He extended his hand down towards you. “I know a place to help clear your mind, would you care to join me?”

Your eyes flickered up. His dazzling blue eyes - contrasted against the golden dazzling air - only showed kindness and a hint of concern. You should refuse, you should stay or perhaps return to your room for the night, but … but how could you say no? Not when he looked at you in such an alluring way, and not since he piqued your deep rooted curiosity. You carefully set the book aside on the plush cushions, and placed your hand in his. “I would love to.”

Morpheus’s smile grew as he drew you up to your feet. “Wonderful.”

He hooked your arm through his and guided you forward. Together, you walked out through the back entrance of the sun room, heading directly for the rose maze. The sun had dipped below the horizon, however its last bits of rays faintly colored the sky. Oranges and pinks still stained the vast canvas known as the sky. They desperately clung behind as rich purples, dark blues, and an all consuming black began to drip down coating all corners. The moon, perfectly sliced in half, already shone in the dimming sky. Its companions, stars, began to twinkle and fill the empty space for the moon was never alone. The rose maze, under this changing light, was mysterious. The greens almost appeared black, while the reds were embers of a dying fire. Excitement buzzed across your skin. Your heart flipped, nearly dropping into your stomach. It was all so thrilling to finally set food inside, and to be by Morpheus’s side as your guide.

Even if you shouldn’t, even if a logical part scolded you.

Morpheus drew you close as you approach the entrance of the maze. “Now, stay close. At night, it can be tricky to navigate.”

There was a hint of humor in his voice as if he was trying to spook you. You chuckled, shaking your head, “Really? Is that your plan? To take me in and do what you want without anyone seeing?”

He laughed, a deep rich laugh that vibrated in your own chest. “You have me figured out.”

You smiled, a true genuine smile. It returned as if it never truly left. It was nice to be joking and laughing with him. It was surprisingly so easy, like two friends and nothing else.

No titles, no past.

Stepping into the maze was stepping into another world. The maze hedges were easily seven feet tall and two or three feet wide, it fully blocked out the world the further you walked in. The hedges were cut and trimmed to perfection. No branch stuck out, only roses. And the roses? Gorgeous with no flaws. There were full roses with their petals spread out to greet you, there were buds still closed waiting for their time, and there were roses in every stage of blooming covering almost every inch of the hedges. The sweet floral aroma tickled your nose and filled the air.

You hummed, pleased by the scent.

Morpheus peered over at you, taken by your wide curious eyes. Your eyes darted all around, fascinated by it all, memorized by its beauty. Strolling further in, he followed the correct path leading to the center of the maze. His stride did not hesitate, but only slowed when your eyes longingly lingered back on all the passing flowers.

Best of all, and to your surprise, there weren't only red roses.

No, the deeper you walked the red stayed, yet yellows, pinks, and whites were slowly incorporated into the mix. A beautiful blend, and various shades, of warm inviting colors. It was like a storybook, a scenery plucked from a far off prosperous kingdom. Tempted by their beauty, you reached out, running your fingers along the soft petals. It was fine silk, or like a cloud.

“Careful -“

You hissed, stopping in place. A thorn had pricked your thumb.

Morpheus instantly frowned and moved in front of you. He carefully took your hand, examining your thumb. It was nothing to be concerned about. An insignificant prick, no worse than a paper cut. A small dot of blood began to well up. The dot sparkled like a certain ruby pinned to his tie. Before he could stop himself, Morpheus brought your thumb up to his lips. His lips - soft and gentle - pressed into the pad of your thumb kissing it.

Your heart flipped in your chest.

Morpheus’s eyes glanced up, locking with yours. A look flashed across his eyes, a look which could only be described as hunger. He nearly knocked the wind out of your lungs by such a simple look. He pulled away and dropped your hand. Turning his back to you, he mumbled, “Apologies for my behavior.”

He licked his lips, tasting the tiniest bit of your blood. He had to suppress a groan. It was truly addicting, like a newly discovered liquor he could happily get drunk off of each and every night.

“I have an older sister who used to do such a thing if any of us were injured. It’s a habit I unknowingly picked up,” he explained.

No, not explained but excused. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. However, it was a lie he told himself and you, rather than admit the aroma of your blood tempted him to act.

“It’s okay,” you muttered, feeling your heart skip in a way you had never felt before. “I should have known better.”

Morpheus wanted to say something, wanted to do something. He wanted to draw you close, he wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, he wanted to nuzzle his face into your neck, he wanted to hear you say his name over and over, he wanted to -

“Please,” he cleared his throat, “I would refrain from running your fingers over them. The thorns are quite sharp, and we needn’t any more accidents. Come, the center is up ahead.”

He walked - no, marched - ahead, and did not bother looking back to see if you were following.

Your lips thinned in thought. You silently followed him as this bizarre tension hovered in the shared space. The only sounds were the crunching of both of your shoes against the pebbled path. You eyed Morpheus’s back curiously and with some trepidation. He had once again pulled away from you. He showed you such kindness, yet almost scared by something he backed off. Why? What frightened him? What thoughts floated around in that head of his?

Why do you care, a voice called out.

You tensed a little. Why did you? It was so pointless and idiotic, especially when -

“We’re here,” Morpheus said. He rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Skirting around the hedge, you let out a small gasp. The pebbled path opened up. The space was carved into a perfect circle, with patches of lush full grass that tempted any tired feet to rest. One could lay and gaze up at the stars, or have a picnic in the high sun. However, most would turn to the concrete benches that surrounded the showstopper: a fountain at the very center. The fountain - smaller than the one in front of the house, yet had four tiers compared to the three - had dozens upon dozens of rose petals floating across the surface. Peering up, the moon looked back down at you in this secret oasis smiling. Its light rippled in the water, scattering its reflection. With the various colors from the roses, and the moonlight’s, it glittered here like a treasure trove.

It was breathtaking.

Morpheus glanced over his shoulder back to you. His heart lurched forward. You looked so beautiful under the moonlight. You slowly approached the foundation, dipping your fingers into the cool water. You picked up a petal, admiring it before setting it back into the water. A smile never left your lips. Any issues, any problems from before, were gone. Each of you solely existed in this moment. Morpheus felt his heart being drawn to you, bound to you. Anything you wanted, anything to keep you smiling, he would do.

What a frightening and thrilling feeling, so familiar yet so foreign to him.

You moved and sat down on the bench, watching as the water spilled over the tiered edges and as petals spun and danced on top of the water. The sounds of the water splashing, and trickling, was hypnotic and soothing. You sighed dreamily and murmured to yourself, “What a beautiful place.”

“It is.” You turned your head, looking up at Morpheus. His eyes were directly on you as he spoke, you always seemed to get his full attention. He smiled softly. He produced a rose from behind his back - a pure white rose that glittered like snow under the moonlight. He sat beside you on the bench, “May I?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, tucking the roses behind your ear. As he drew back, his nimble fingers skimmed along your jaw. His eyes softened. You truly were a fresh change in his life, a well needed change. You had taken his heart in the short time you worked here with your humor, your wit, your curiosity, and your kindness. He was smitten for deep in his heart he was a hopeless romantic.

He turned away from you, looking to the fountain. Your heart skipped. His touch burned across your skin. You reached up, touching the soft pure white petals. A smile crossed your lips as you stared at the multifaceted lord.

“I suppose I have to admit I do have an ulterior motive for asking you to join me,” he began.

“Oh?” You titled your head. “And what would that be?”

To see you smile again, he thought.

“I have a question to ask, a request, and I did not want anyone else to listen in.”

You leaned forward, silently waiting.

He bowed his head, and dare you say appeared to be almost shy. It surprised you to see him in such a way. He peered up at you with a cluster of unreadable emotions on his face. “I would like to ask if you would join me to attend my dear friend’s party.”

“What?” You breathed out.

“I want you to accompany me to Hob’s party, if you so wish to join me.”

“I … I am unsure. I am just taken back by your offer.”

“Do you truly find it so surprising?”

“Given my employment to you, I suppose I do,” you joked lightly.

“If you wish, think of it as a bonus for your wonderous upkeep of the manor.” He searched in your eyes hoping to find his answer. “So? Do you accept?”

You smiled softly, “How could I pass up such generosity? Yes.”

Lucienne was right. Morpheus knew exactly what to do.

Shortly after his surprising offer, Morpheus explained he will take care of anything. He will find a dress for you for the night, and pay all expenses - you reluctantly agreed after much arguing.

Soon, arm in arm again, he guided you out of the maze, and towards your room for the night. He paused in front of you, hovering slightly as if something weighed on him, as if he wished to say something else. His lips parted, but he just bowed his head. “Goodnight, I hope you have sweeter dreams tonight.”

“Thank you,” you bowed your head.

Say something, do something.

Instead, you just simply smiled. “Goodnight, sir.”

You twisted around to go into your room when a hand latched around your wrist. You suppressed a shiver at his cool hand. You peered over your shoulder looking down at the hand then slowly your eyes trailed up to see Morpheus’s wondrous blue eyes.

“Please,” he whispered softly, “when it is just us, call me Morpheus. No need for such formalities.”

Your heart fluttered, like a hummingbird. “Of course. Morpheus. Goodnight.”

His eyes twinkled, utterly overjoyed. A smile spread over his lips. He gently let go of your wrist and stood back with perfect posture. He bowed his head again, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

You turned, finally stepping into your room. You gently shut the door as a giddy feeling washed over you. Morpheus’s footsteps soon faded away. You sighed, dreamily. Taking the rose from behind your ear, you floated over to the nightstand by your bed. You gently laid it down. Your fingers traced over the petals, unable to stop smiling. Maybe later you will get a cup and water for it. Your eyes, however, soon caught a folded piece of paper on the stand. Your smile faltered. Picking it up and unfolding it, your mother and father smiled back up at you. You folded the picture again. You tucked it under the beautiful white rose.

Just a little longer, you thought. I promise.

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #the sandman au #vampire!au #vampire!dream #vampire!morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #vampire!morpheus x reader #vampire!dream x reader #x reader #fem!reader

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 days

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Hype Boy | I.N x Reader

-> Pairing: Yang Jeongin x F1 Racer!Reader

-> Request: from @mirlisfreespace

-> Synopsis: Jeongin makes the best hype boy for his girlfriend. Part 02 to I Promise You

-> Warnings: Self-doubt. Anxiety. Negative thinking.

-> Word Count: 390

-> Requests: Open.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

Jeongin spent nearly five minutes searching for his girlfriend when he finds her in one of the side rooms designated for when someone needs to take a break. Her knee is bouncing anxiously, as she bites her lip, and looking as if she's mentally a million miles away.

"I've been looking for you," Jeongin says, letting her know that it's just him. "Is everything okay?"

"I don’t know why I’m even doing this," she replies, avoiding eye contact by looking down at the floor. "I'm not even that good. There are so many other racers that are better than me, faster than me, and more experienced than I am. What am I doing here? I don't deserve to be here."

"I think your full of shit," he tells her sitting next to her. She glares at him, her eyes glossing over. "You deserve to be here.” he continues, taking her hand in his and making her look at him with his free hand. “You've worked your ass off to get where you are today, and I couldn't be prouder of you. Don't let anyone make you feel or think otherwise."

"You know how competitive Formula One can get," she sighs.

"Which is testament to how hard you've worked to get here. It's proof that you deserve to be here just as much, if not more, than the others," he counters. "Now, stop doubting yourself, get in that car, and show them what you're made of. Show them why you deserve to be here."

"What would I do without you?" she asks a faint smile on her lips as she looks at him loving.

"You don't have to worry about that because I'll always be here, supporting you and reminding you of your worth," he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hand.

"I love you," she says pressing a kiss to his lips.

"I love you too," he says and stands up, her hand still in his, and leads her out of the room so she can prepare for her race.

As they walk back towards the main area, Jeongin can't help but feel a surge of pride for his girlfriend. He’s witnessed her dedication and passion for racing firsthand, and he knows that she has what it takes to succeed even further in the competitive world of Formula One racing.

TAGGING: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings-library - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry

@rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson - @laylasbunbunny - @skz1-4-3 - @pinkies-things

@kayleefriedchicken - @everythingboutkpop

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marvel-starwarsfangirl · 2 days

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Why I Love Crosshair- A Story About Persevering

I talk about Crosshair so much on my blog. With TBB ending in a few days, I wanted to share with y'all why he resonates with me so deeply. This show and these characters have touched the hearts of so many in this fandom. I'm curious, which Batcher has resonated with you? Anyways, here we go!

Crosshair's hot. That's it. I'm a simple woman. Moving on.

He's really freaking cool- I'm not gonna like, seeing Crosshair make those trick shots has me on the edge of my seat. It's just so much fun to watch someone do an incredible skill whether it's dance, playing music, or in Crosshair's case, take out several battle droids with one shot. I love it.

His character arc- Crosshair is one of the most interesting and complex characters I've met in recent years. I'm not going to lie, it's refreshing to see a really well-written morally grey character. Crosshair's one and only loyalty is to his family (plus a few others). He will do anything for them. However, Crosshair isn't drawn to some bigger cause like Echo or Omega are. From my POV, it's something interesting to think about. What makes a good person? How far is one willing to go for someone they love? At what point does that loyalty and love turn selfish or self-destructive? These are all questions that Crosshair's character brings up.

I also appreciate the love and passion put into his character. Jennifer and the team took their time to give Cross a proper redemption. It wasn't as simple as "Crosshair just flips on a dime" or "he dies proving he still loved them." No. The change had to come from Crosshair. Crosshair had to be the one to make the steps towards coming home. It had to be his choice and his choice alone, not something that was forced onto him. I really appreciate that tbh. People are so complex and we all make mistakes. Crosshair made some pretty bad choices (not that he was 100% in control). Still, he had to figure things out for himself and when he was ready, he decided to come home.

His story- Crosshair's story is one of struggle and persevering in my eyes. "The Outpost" is one of the best depictions of what it's like to struggle with mental health. It's why I love it so much. I see a lot of myself in Crosshair. So often, it's much easier to just lie down and quit. But Crosshair doesn't quit. No. He fights. He fights so hard and in the end, he makes it. To see Crosshair come home after so long meant the world to me. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. You can and will make it. And he didn't do it alone. Omega continued to be a light in his life. Crosshair reminds me to never give up. Even when it all seems impossible, we need to keep going and there is hope for the future. When he meditates with Omega, I almost cried. That episode reminded me of my mom because she's constantly encouraging me and supporting me. She always tells me that I have to be the one to help myself. It's difficult and she will be there, but I can't just expect things to fix themselves. Similarly, Omega told Crosshair that he needed to help himself. I don't think I've ever related to a SW character as much as I have with Crosshair.

Crosshair has taught me so much about myself. Through him, I've learned that there's a lot going on in my head that I need to work on. I realized why S1 Hunter pissed me off so much. Because like Cross, there are times at home where I feel like no one listens. He taught me to keep going, to keep fighting, especially in times of great uncertainty. Crosshair and Omega's relationship shows just how special the impact of one person can have. I see their relationship reflected in my life in many ways. There's so much more I can say about Cross, but we would be here forever lol.

I am so grateful for Crosshair. I am so grateful for his story. He might be just a character, but he's really helped me tackle some rough times in my life. I love him with all my heart and will forever be thankful to TBB team for bringing his story to life.

Thank you DBB, Jen, Brad, Michelle, and everyone on TBB team. Thank you for everything ❤️

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair

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captainkurosolaire · 1 year

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I’m always impressed by the quality of your writing and the sheer creativity that you put into everything you do. If I could be one tenth as talented I should count myself blessed indeed. Plus you are kind and supportive towards others in a manner which does you great credit.

ANONYMOUSLY TELL ME YOUR HONEST OPINION ABOUT ME. I CAN’T REPLY, JUST PUBLISH.

#asks answered #I've never honestly saw myself talented or skilled #What I am is completely universal #It's just passion #Anyone is most likely more put together than me in many fields #When my friends went to parties and drugs #I was home making scenarios in my heads and writing in absence #Playing house with girls as a kid #Games or LARPing #Like my entire life has revolved around creating #And that's because I am passionate towards it #I nurtured my imagination #Emotions are powerful they are the instruments to storytelling #Reserving it for strictly for writing works in my favor #And I will always benefit more if I have my fellow peers #I want everyone to soar and fly with me! Their diverse one-of-kind wings are too brilliant to not flutter.#There's no point to have ego in the world of art #I have a strong belief in the old mentalities living in the perspective of old bards #Just create be so open-minded to everything #Do it just for a bed for the night #Travel to the next destination and take in the sights #Entertaining and smiling and relieving others or invoking emotions that may benefit or connect that's what I aspire to achieve.#While never ever losing myself to anything or anyone

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nyxofdemons · 7 months

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this was going to be like a mile long essay but i just realized the most concise way to say it is that "it feels like a retcon that blitz has been so resentful and hostile towards fizz all this time since he was supposed to feel guilty" is simply not a good criticism when we have been shown, time and time again, that blitz's number one defense mechanism when he feels guilty or judged or attacked is to lash out, to deflect and ignore all his responsibility, and to shift the blame to someone else. that's like. his defining character flaw

#- and that's WHY it was such a major THING for his arc!! that he apologized to fizz and accepted responsibility for what he did!!!#like. the fact that he said; EXPLICITLY; the words 'you're right; it was all my fault; i should have done better; i am so sorry' IS #SO BIG!!!! LIKE THAT IS SUCH A HUGE THING FOR HIM!!!!!#mine #helluva boss #blitzo helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #blitz #e: oops #analysis #also its entirely reasonable that blitz would have gone spiraling down the thought process that maybe fizz always hated him if he could #blame him so easily when fizz was probably the one blitz was MOST counting on to hear him out #and the fact that fizz went on and got SUPER famous and successful after he was no longer performing with blitz - who i'm SURE had #only been given more and more shit for not being as good as fizz as they got older (by his dad and by himself) - he probably assumed fizz #blamed him for that too - holding fizz back with his own poor performance #which is why his insults towards fizz had always been 'overrated sellout' and insisting he slept his way to the top with ozzie.#he'd tear down fizz's quality as a performer because BLITZ feels insecure about his OWN quality as a performer #these tags have gotten so fucking long but that's the gist of the essay i was gonna write about this fjfdjjfghf #MEDIA ANALYSIS IS MY PASSION

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thelostgirl21 · 4 months

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Ever since realising that Joey referring to Jaskier as sapiosexually connecting with Radovid was likely 100% intentional, I've literally been losing my shit over the potential implications...

Like... new headcanon!

What if Jaskier has always approached the act of having sex with someone else as a form of performance art, driven by his desire to please his "audience", and making other people passionately respond to what he's doing for them?

Like... what if what normally sexually interests him isn't so much inspired by the other person, but more by the general idea of being wanted, needed, and the anticipation of the positive feedback he might get from sexually interacting with them.

He readily experiences primary aesthetic attraction towards other people, finds them interesting, becomes curious about them, and feels instantly affectionate towards them; but he's not sexually aroused by / attracted to them, per say.

He really wants to make them feel good, and bask in that sense of intimacy, togetherness and praises he receives from being sexually involved with them (yeah, because he's that good at figuring out what pleases them, and offering it to them).

And somehow, audience response/participation tends to really inform how good or "smooth" he is when it comes to his ability to seduce someone, and convince them to become sexually intimate with him in the first place?

For example...

So... what if Jaskier is a bard and an artist through and through? Not just on stage, but in the sheets as well?

Turning sex into poetry and something very deliberate, where it's all about a sense of artistic expression, and a pure melody of various physical sensations and emotions!

Sexually? Jaskier is an artist, a creative, a free thinker... All is fair!

But it's not something that he usually feels any urge or need to engage in based on the way someone else inspires him any sudden desire to have sex with them specifically.

He loves his sexual partners, he's intrigued by them, he wants to connect with them - even if that connection lasts but a night - and sex allows him to do that.

But maybe he has no idea that sex might be experienced differently by others.

Maybe he just thinks they're like really really REALLY expressive and appreciative of the sex itself, or something, whenever he notices how hungrily some of them appear to throw themselves at him, or at each other.

Also, I've somehow always found it a bit weird how Jaskier seems to fully remain clear minded during Yennefer's magical orgy.

Yennefer comments on how Geralt seems to be immune to her spell, as if it's some kind of big deal!

But then, there's Jaskier...

He just waves at them as if he's totally unaffected by everyone else fucking each other around him, and being surrounded by a bunch of naked bodies having sex...

And/or looks like he's not quite comfortable with the way someone's hand is moving closer to his crotch at some point...

Grant it, he's slowly being suffocated to death by a Djinn's magic, and likely has other priorities than sex in mind!

But that's just the thing...

Isn't Yennefer's spell supposed to override people's ability to think rationally or fully understand what's happening? Everyone snaps out of it looking confused, and poor Jaskier just basically passes out, but he's never once looked like he stopped looking at what was happening around him from an outsider's P.O.V.

Whenever the camera cuts to him, he seems to be sharing the same reality as Geralt and Yennefer, not the kind of sexual haze everyone else appears to be happily trapped in.

Would being affected by the Djinn just make him immune to the whole "sex weed magic thingy" as well?

Or would the usual lack of primary sexual attraction towards other people make it a bit harder for Yennefer's spell to take a hold on him?

(Another headcanon theory I came up with - should Jaskier be revealed as being the direct descendant of Fjall and the Lark - would be that, perhaps, the small touch of magic in his blood would be enough to make him more resistant to certain types of spell... On top of being able to eat whatever he comes across without freaking poisoning himself, I swear!)

But yeah, let's just imagine, for a moment, that sapiosexual Jaskier would have no clue (or very little clue) of what it actually feels like to specifically be sexually attracted to someone (rather than the sex itself, and all it may represent to him) in a way where you are viscerally craving that sexual contact with that specific someone, and you feel like you might go crazy if they don't finally have sex with you.

Then, along comes Radovid, that he develops a sapioromantic and sapiosexual attraction for...

And, for a while, Jaskier thinks he's just losing his freaking mind, because there are moments where Radovid is just there, simply being all sensitive and insightful while discussing dwarven politics with Yarpen, for example...

... and poor Jaskier's never been so sexually aroused in his life!!!

But Radovid is not even technically doing anything that's supposed to be "sexually charged"!

He's fully clothed, being all smart and sensitive, talking about a topic of interest to him while having lunch by the side of the road...

...and Jaskier is just there, casually eating next to him while listening to him talk with their friends.

It's 100% casual and totally trivial, day to day stuff... No plan for Jaskier to try and seduce him and have sex there!

So, how come does he suddenly feel the urge to pounce on him and beg Radovid to just take him right here and there, in front of all their friends at camp, and it's taking all the self-control he can humanly muster not to act upon that impulse?!

Instead, Jaskier stands up, awkwardly excuses himself, and decides the best way to manage the situation is to go take a random dip fully clothed in the nearest river.

"Why?", they ask. Because he was getting hot, that's why!

And no, he couldn't just remove his clothes instead! He liked them really baggy an concealing that day, thank you very much!

As a matter of fact, he might decide to just start wearing his shirt over his pants from now on, because he's starting a new fashion trend! No other reason!

Oh...

Oh, no...

NO.

Don't you dare look at me all concerned while trying to read into my behavior, you stupid prince... Wait. Is that a smirk?

You're smirking aren't you?

How do you look like you've figured it out, when I've no fucking clue what's even going on with me?!

Great! And now the river's cool water is not even working anymore!

That's it! I'm never walking out of here again, and I hope you know it's all your fault!

No. No, don't take off your shirt and get into the water with me, that's not...

Oh? Oh! Everyone else is going and leaving us alone? Okay, nevermind! Fuck! Why's it so hard to walk while standing waist deep in water? Surely there must be a way to get to you faster...

And I'm just imagining poor Jaskier trying to ask Yennefer if Radovid might be some kind of sorcerer with latent magical abilities or something... Because, whenever he's around, there are moments where he randomly feels this overwhelming urge to make love to him, even if the context is not appropriate for delivering a sexual performance of any kind!

Like yes, it has happened to him before to have "the muses" whisper in his ear that sex with a certain someone might be good, and he's typically very open to sudden bursts of inspiration and unplanned sexual improvisation!

But that's not the same thing!

It only happens specifically with Radovid - especially when he's saying or doing something really witty, sensitive or insightful - and it's like his whole body suddenly catches fire, gets all tense and trembling with need; and being touched by him and having sex with him feels like finally being able to breathe after someone's forcefully been holding your head under water for a while...

Radovid must be bewitching him, somehow, for sure!

And Yenn is like "You know that what you've just been describing is simply what regular sexual desire feels like for most people, right?"

And Jaskier's just going:

#Jaskier #Radovid #Radskier #Sapiosexual #Sapioromantic #Sapiosexual Jaskier puts so many things into perspective and opens the door to so many new and juicy heacanons!#How the fuck did I miss this?!#Yeah for the record I still think I'm a complete demisexual idiot!#Fuck am I an idiot...#That's likely also sapiosexual so the fact that I genuinely thought Jaskier couldn't be sapiosexual is even more bewildering to me!#I guess I'm still mostly hesitating on calling myself sapiosexual because I'm not entirely sure if the way I'm exclusively attracted toward #geeks is based on how I perceive and respond to the way their intellect works...#Or to other factors like a combination of personality traits often displayed by geeks for example...#But yeah getting specifically “turned on” by your partner in the most awkward of times (ex: boyfriend is animatedly explaining to someone #how the lithium batter on their phone works while being so creatively imaginative and passionate about it) is a highly relatable experience #I've just gotten used to it...#and can manage it without going to jump into rivers now...#Jaskier will be fine! He'll get the hang of it!#My Stuff #My Posts #My Thoughts

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