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mostlysignssomeportents · 9 months

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Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

#pluralistic #trustbusting #big tech #gift guide #kickstarter #the internet con #books #audiobooks #enshitiffication #disenshittification #crowdfunders #seize the means of computation #audible #amazon #verso

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luveline · 4 days

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omg jade i heard you asking for hotch reqs and i RAN to your inbox

what about hotch taking care of r after they have a lil baby?? i think if i saw that man hold a new baby id die!!!! he could hole their whole head in the palm of his hand 😭😭😭

Every time you move, your hips and more intimate regions hurt like a hot poker. You probably won’t cry, but you require some tylenol and some sympathy to carry on. “Hotch?” you ask.

Silence. You tip your head back over the armrest to find him. Even upside down, he looks handsome, sitting in the two seater with your little bundle of agony in his arms. Or, arm. The baby rests neatly in the curve of his forearm, his free hand dedicated to the baby’s small back.

“Hotch?”

“Who is she talking to?” Hotch asks your baby gently. You know what he’s doing immediately.

“You get so hung up on the Hotch thing, if you didn’t want to be called Hotch, you shouldn’t have introduced yourself as Hotch.”

You’ve been calling him Hotch for years, you aren’t going to suddenly kick the habit now.

“She was my subordinate,” Hotch tells the baby. “She couldn’t have special treatment, even if she is the prettiest subordinate I ever had. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

“I wouldn’t mind some more tylenol.”

He raises his gaze. You twist into a painful but better suited position to watch him move the baby closer to his collar, his hand covering the entirety of the baby’s small head. Hotch said Jack was a little baby too, but you’d been terrified regardless, and no matter the size, it was too big for you to come out of the ordeal unscathed. Tylenol isn’t so much wanted as required.

“I’ll get it for you,” he promises.

“Thank you, Aaron.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, honey.”

He stands and shifts your tiny baby further into his chest, little snores pressed to his collar. “You okay to take him? I’ll make you some lunch at the same time.”

“I can’t eat.”

“Just chips and a sandwich, honey. You can manage that.”

You open your arms, letting Hotch lower your baby down into your arms and the surrounding nest of blankets. “You need to go see where Jack is,” you say.

“I know,” Hotch says, kissing your cheek quickly. “I’m gonna make his lunch too. I’ll be right back.”

You cuddle your baby to your chest and lean back. Your baby Hotchner is, as previously stated, so tiny, but he’s a nice weight against you, and he sleeps like a champ. You thought easy babies were a myth until now. So far he’s done nothing but sleep and stare at you whenever you talk. You think it’s love, or the surprise of seeing the voices that talked to him nonstop while he was in your belly now out in the open. He does the same to Hotch whenever he’s awake.

You haven’t named him yet. You asked Jack for help, but he’d recommended you name your new baby Mister Awesome, so you’re at a loss for now. It doesn’t matter, though. He’ll have a name eventually. Until then, he’s the baby. And he’s very well loved.

You wish he hadn’t hurt so badly to bring into the world, is all.

Somewhere deeper in the house, Jack tumbles down the stairs, to Hotch's audible horror. “Are you alright? What are you doing, buddy?”

“I’m being quick!”

“Please be careful!” There’s the sound of a kiss. “You sure you’re okay? Yeah? Gonna go and keep Y/N company?”

“Yeah, dad.”

“Okay, thank you. I’m gonna make your lunch now, any requests?”

“Peanut butter. And chips. And pretzels. And orange slices? And–”

“How about I bring you lots of everything, bud?”

“Yes. Please. Hug?”

They must hug, though you can’t see or hear it, as Jack walks into the living room with wildly tousled hair and a smile. He climbs over the back of the couch even though he shouldn’t, dropping onto your feet, a tangle of arms and legs. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi baby. You hungry?”

“Dad’s gonna make me a sandwich.”

You reach over to collect his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers gently. You’d thought for sure that having a baby in the house would upset him, if only because his usual routine was disrupted —he’d had to make room for you first, and now suddenly there’s a new baby taking all the attention? it’s not what only kids usually want— but Jack’s an easy kid too. He squeezes your hand back, shimmying up the couch to lean on your leg. It aches, every touch to your lower half a reminder of the pain further inward, but he’s not rough. He climbs further onto your leg and rests his cheek on your shoulder.

“Is this a cuddle?” you murmur.

“Pretty please.”

“No please required.” You frown to yourself, trying to juggle the baby into the opposite arm so you can wrap the one closest to Jack around his shoulders. You manage it poorly. “Dad makes this look so easy.”

“He has longer arms,” Jack says with a shrug. His nose jabs the skin just above your chest. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t. Thank you, babe.”

Jack touches the baby’s back. “He’s sleeping?”

“Yeah. Must be weird getting to sleep all the time and then suddenly being born. At least he’s not crying.”

You and Jack lay with each other for a while, watching the baby snore as you whisper about what Hotch is making for lunch. You wish he’d brought you the tylenol before he started, but he’s got a lot going on. You’re glad he’s the one making lunch (though you can’t be expected to right now, considering). The idea of having to stand there and butter a sub roll sounds like a low level of torture.

“Don’t let me fall asleep holding the baby,” you tell Jack, your eyes drifting closed as Jack snuggles closer to your face.

“I can go get dad.”

“I’m here,” Hotch says swiftly. You drag your face to the side to see him in the doorway, two dinner trays balanced with ease in his hands despite their obvious weight and full glasses on either side. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m coming. Sorry about the wait.”

Hotch puts your trays on the coffee table and scoops the baby from your chest, leaving behind an awfully warm patch of skin.

“Tylenols on the tray,” he says, smiling at you lovingly. “You okay?”

“Fine. Jack’s gonna feed me.”

To his credit, your lovely stepson offers to really feed you, but you’re not so tired now there’s food in front of you. Your stomach groans in want.

Hotch stands looking down at you, baby somehow even smaller looking in his arms. “Need anything else?”

You hold half of your sandwich up to him. “Eat that.”

“I’m fine. My hands are full.”

“I’m not asking, Aaron. Take it.” You force the sandwich on him. “We both know you only need one hand.”

He’s cautious not to rain crumbs down on the baby. You make no such fuss, bread and lettuce falling down into your lap as you eat. Jack can’t stop giggling, “You’re not s’posed to eat like that!”

“Sorry!” you say, “I’m just so hungry!”

“It’s okay,” he says. “Dad will vacuum you.”

Hotch’s mouth is full to bursting, but his nod is vehement. He swallows hard. “I’ll mop you, too.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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buckttommy · 21 days

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I need buck to be in danger and tommy running into the danger to get buck out safely. I need tommy to hold bucks face in his hands and tell him that he needs to look at him and tell him what hurts. I need tommy to be a worried boyfriend

whoops

"I'm okay."

Evan doesn't actually know if he's okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He's not entirely convinced he doesn't have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that's not currently attached to the hand that's gripping Tommy's wrist like he's scared he'll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he's got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that'll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he's not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he's not dying.

That's all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he's losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he's not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it's a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn't know which one of them it's hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. "When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt..."

"I know." Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. I didn't mean to do that to you."

He doesn't mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can't take it or doesn't want to hear it, but because he doesn't know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he's honest, he's still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he's not complaining. He knows what it's like to be the one waiting for information, to think you're about to live the worst day of your life.

He's glad he didn't do that to Tommy.

This time.

Tommy's eyes rove over his face, his body, like he's trying to catalogue for himself all the places in which Evan is broken. He loses the fight against his hand and gently grabs Evan's jaw, tilting his face toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. He clucks his tongue and drags his thumb along the edge of a gash scored across his cheekbone.

"You're going to need stitches on that."

"I know, I know. Just—" Evan sways on his feet. He's tired, suddenly, the adrenaline passing and fear taking roots in it's place. "I thought I was going to die today."

Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. "Evan."

"No. I know. It's just that—if I hadn't somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that's the job. You know? It's—it's what we both signed up for." He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend's orbit. "But I'm just really—I'm really glad I get to come home to you again."

Tommy's face softens. "Oh, sweetheart."

Evan's boyfriend is massive. It's one of the things he loves most about him. Tommy can (and has) manhandled him with ease countless times before. But the way he touches him now, careful of all his broken parts, is so gentle that Evan almost feels like crying. He melts into the warmth of his embrace as he feels Tommy's nose press into the soft hairs at his temple, followed by a quick brush of his lips.

"I'm glad you get to come home at all. I—god. You have no idea, Evan. You just don't know." He huffs a laugh that's not really a laugh at all and holds him slightly tighter. "I know it's the job, like you said, and I never really minded when it was me running into burning buildings. But now it's you, and—" he pauses. Swallows. "Well. It's not really as fun from this side of things."

"Says the guy who flies helicopters into hurricanes for a living."

Tommy's laugh is actually more of a laugh that time. Something eases in Evan's chest. He tips his chin to look at him.

They're standing far too closely, far too intimately to be considered casual. He's not out to anyone at the station except his family, and he can feel curious eyes roving over them every now and again.

But Tommy is shaking.

It's a small tremble wracking his body, clearly suppressed (or at least trying to be), but it's there and it's breaking Evan's heart to pieces.

Maybe it's that that gives him the courage. Or maybe it's the fact that he almost died. Or maybe it's the fact that Tommy smells like his laundry detergent and, this close Evan can see the edge of the hickey he left beneath his collarbone, or maybe (most likely) it's all of those things. But before he can think about it, before he can stop himself, Evan is murmuring,

"Can I kiss you?"

Tommy's eyebrows raise to his hairline. His gaze darts around, but they're tucked away from the largest portion of the crowd of first responders that arrived at the structure fire. The only person that's even sort of nearby is Hen, and she's so obviously giving them privacy that Evan wants to hug her a little bit.

Later.

Right now, he just wants to kiss.

Tommy frowns. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes. You can. I always want to kiss you but you're not out."

This is true. Evan considers this for a moment and decides that, right now, he doesn't care. Everyone he cares about already knows he's bisexual and they love him regardless, have loved him all this time.

He doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

"We don't have to," he says after a moment. "But I'm tired. And everything hurts. And when I was under there, all I could think about was—was you and getting back to you and kissing you, and so I—"

He's cut off by the feel of Tommy's mouth on his, tension gliding from his shoulders as their lips slot together.

Finally.

This is what he's been needing ever since he emerged from the rubble. Ever since Hen dragged him to the ambulance and sat him down to tend to his wounds. Ever since Chimney told him he called Tommy to let him know what happened.

This is what he's been missing.

Tommy's heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest.

It's an odd thing to be able to feel someone's heartbeat, to be pressed so close together that you can literally feel the thing that's keeping them alive. Evan has never felt anything more sacred, he thinks, and the fact that this heart—this beautiful fucking heart—beats a litany of fear for him through Tommy's veins is overwhelming.

Humbling.

He adores this man.

He lets go of Tommy's wrist and slides his hand up until it rests over Tommy's heart, and then he waits and waits and waits until the beat starts to slow down. Until Tommy exhales a sigh against the side of his face.

There it is, that's what he was waiting for.

Tommy pulls back first, far enough to press their foreheads together.

"You need to go to a hospital," he murmurs.

"Later."

"No, now." His laughter is soft. "Hen is glaring daggers at me. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain she's about to pry you out of my arms and strap you to the gurney herself."

Evan snorts. Yeah, that sounds like Hen.

He takes a step back out of the warm circle of Tommy's arms. A bout of vertigo nearly knocks him off his feet, but then Tommy is there once again, holding him up.

Evan's own heart beats just a little bit faster.

Together, they walk over to the back of the ambulance, Tommy helping him get settled on the gurney once they get there.

Evan meets his eyes. "Come visit me in the hospital?"

"Visit you? I'll be right behind."

Tommy presses a kiss to the back of his hand, and this time when the vertigo hits again, he's not entirely sure it's just because of his injuries.

He's never felt so adored, so treasured before. It's intoxicating.

Tommy looks over his shoulder, his face earnest. "I know I don't have to ask, but please take care of him."

Hen's voice is immensely fond. "Relax, Kinard. He's in good hands."

Tommy nods. He meets his gaze again and then holds it until the ambulance doors close. It's only when Evan leans back that he remembers, oh, right. Everything does kind of hurt after all.

Definitely not okay, then.

"Ow."

"Yeah, I know." Hen's voice is still soft. She fusses about the back of the ambulance, plying him with bandages and medicine and whatever the hell else she's doing. He's not entirely sure. Reality is starting to slip away. Her face appears in his field of vision. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Close your eyes."

"Tommy?"

"Buck, I'm pretty sure not even a natural disaster could keep that man from being at your side." Her tone is teasing, but she's sincere. Something warm settles in his chest even as his eyelids drift closed. "Rest. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can see him."

Evan's not sure about that logic but he's too weary to question it. He closes his eyes anyway, lets the rock of the ambulance lull him into a relative sense of peace, and he falls asleep imagining the warmth of Tommy's body beside him.

#ngl I giggled to myself SO MANY TIMES WHILE WRITING THIS OH MY GOD #*screams and kicks my feet*#anyways #bucktommy #jack answers mail #tv: 911

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alientee · 2 months

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Alastor x Jessica Rabbit Reader Part 2

You and Alastor are walking down the street and you couldn't help but hold him even closer if possible. Everyone was staring at you, some even stopping in the middle of the street to gawk at you both. You look at Alastor to see if he's noticing the same thing but he couldn't be bothered. "Honey where are we going" Alastor smiles down at you "A lovely little place called Cannibal town. Is similar to our time line."

You look up at him nervously. "Are you sure its alright for me to be there darling... will someone try to..eat me" Alastor stops walking lifting your chin up. "Well darling you are delectable enough to eat, but rest assured anyone who comes near you with that motive will be slaughtered where they stand. Besides there's someone I would like you too meet"

You sigh placing a hand on his chest "I trust you honey" He pats your head "Good now look alive we are almost there." You walk into a nice clean town that looks true to his word somewhat similar to when you and Alastor were alive. You see many of the people working and keeping the town clean, it didn't seem like hell at all. Alastor brings you both into a nice looking shop and opens the door for you. You walk in the store and it seems so nice and cozy on the inside.

"Alastor?! oh alastor what a surprise!" A grey woman with black eyes and sharp teeth comes up towards alastor hugging him tightly "And who is this you brought with you, your such a charmer Alastor this is the second time you've come to my store with a woman in tow. And a angel no less what a surprise this is. " Alastor brings you closer to him "This treasure is my lovely wife, y/n this is Rosie one of my good friends and one hell of a overlord." Rosie looked at you with shock on her face "Your wife?! And here I thought you were an ace in the hole." Rosie laughs while Alastor just looks confused. "I still don't know what that means" You snicker. “Hate to break it to you but he still is.” Rosie grabs you both. "Come in come in we have MUCH to discuss."

Rosie takes you two to a back room with more privacy. She pulls out a small box offering it to you. "Would you like some pinky fingers hun, not that you need them your figure is to die for." You quickly but kindly refuse. "Ohhh no thank you I don't have my husbands taste for flesh hehe." Rosie put them away looking at Alastor smugly. "Oh Alastor don't tell me you thought she looked pretty enough to eat but you just couldn't do it could you? You fell too hard to soon haha"

Alastor looks at Rosie smile still on with his eyes closed. "I can assure you I never thought of such a thing" Rosie scoffs a little "You can't fool me Alastor a doll like her, you must've fantasized about a taste once an a while." You can hear the static in Alastors voice rise. "Rosie, do believe me when I say I have not, please." Rosie seems to pick up on the change of mood. "I see well tell me how you to met, I can't imagine old alastor here pulling a gal like you he's so reserved when he wants to be, no offense hon"

"Oh well we met in a jazz club and he was just dancing his heart out. I guess he had had to much whiskey because he asked me to dance and I said yes. He pulled me all over the dance floor. I was surprised I could keep up with him, next thing you know he's coming to my shows given me flowers with full blushed face and a nervous wide smile. He had me charmed being such a gentleman especially with that accent." Rosie looks even more intrigued "Alastor has an accent? Now this is news to me, where is it." You gave Alastor a look."That's what id like to know, honey?"

Alastor's smile drops a little but not by much "Well in radio you have to talk proper and clearly to give your audience a good show" You roll your eyes but let it go and keep talking to Rosie. You like her she's very kind and inviting you can see why Alastor is fond of her. Rosie gives you a hug saying if you ever saw each other again she had to get all the gossip on Alastor. As you and him are leaving he stops for a moment lifting up your chin with his finger. "So ya missed this cher?"

You blushed moving your head away. "Alastor don't you start" All he did was chuckle at you. "Why not? ya missed my accent so much. I remember how I made you shiver when I talked to ya nice." You looked at alastor a playful glare in your eyes. "Its been to long since we've been apart but I think we both know your not…. How the kids say, about that life." He looks at you funny before linking your arms. “I’ll never understand all the phrases that come up today always a diffrent one each time.”

When you roll your eyes at him his smile gets wider kissing your forehead. "Lets go to our next destination" You feel him put his arm over your shoulder leading you forward. "Which is?" "A theme Park named LuLu World, we didn't have one of those when we were alive." you nodded "Oh yes the first one came out when I was in my 80's. I could never go see it for myself." Alastor pulled you along faster "Well wait no longer here we are!" You look around and its nothing but bright colorful lights, contraptions you'd never seen and loads of food everywhere with people in costumes.

"Oh wow this is a lot to take in" Alastor grabs your hand holding it tighter than you would've wanted. " Stay very close to me who knows who's watching. Wouldn't want my mon amour to get lost or hurt." You smiled slightly a little worried but ready to have fun.

"I don't know Vox I don't think Tv's should be on rides, you could shatter If your not careful haha" Vox rolled his eyes eating his cotton candy. "Oh fuck you Val, maybe you shouldn't get on a roller coaster, might fly away with those fat ass wings." Valentino flinched " Oh you take that back you wide faced B-!" Velvette pushes herself between both of them. "Hey you lot, while you two are ova here bitchin, that radio demons got a bad bitch on his arm, looks like a angel literally."

Both of them look over to where she was talking about and she was right. There was Alastor walking hand and hand with an angel. Vox pushes forward he couldn't believe this shit. "What the fuck is someone like that doing with Alastor! I'm following him, that old timey prick is up to something. I refuse for him to get ahead of me in what ever the fuck he's doing." The other V's roll their eyes following his league. They ended up following behind the two for a few minutes not realizing that Alastor's shadow had noticed them.When the shadow warned Alastor he clenched his smile, he refused for these idiots to ruin what was a lovely date to his wife.

Alastor uses his shadows to stop them in there place making them all fall on there face. Alastor pushes you on your lower back, speeding up your movement. "Come dear there is so much more to see, look over there a clown show." You turn your head intrigued at the many tricks the clowns showed even if they looked deadly.

Vox gets up angry , his screen slightly buffering. "That fucking coward, I'll give that piece of shit something to smile about." Vox starts looking around trying to find anything heavy but only seeing stuffed animals. Growing frustrated he grabs the first thing that looks heavy and throws it at Alastor. Alastor feels a heavy object smack him right in the back of the head making him fall forward, he catches himself picking up whatever Vox threw ready to smack him in the face with it. He turned around to see Vox flipping him off. "Thats what you get bitch"

His antlers grew with his eyes turning into dials, voodoo symbols surrounding him. " Oh Alastor is that for me!" Alastor turns back to normal, he finally looks at what's in his hand. It's a multicolored glass sculpture of flowers. He took the opportunity to shove them into you with a smile larger than usually. "Of course sweetie, anything for my baby" He pulls you closer flipping Vox and the other two off while walking away.

Both Velvette and Valentino look at Vox while he's fuming. Velvette speaks up first "You know you helped him rizz right?" Vox turns around making a scene "I CAN FUCKING SEE THAT. How in the fuck did he land someone so out of his league, that prudish jackass! It's not fair!" Valentino just looks at them walking away raising an eyebrow. "That virgin is so not hitting that right"

As you and Alastor walk through the theme park you couldn't help but feel a little clingy. Spending this much time together is making you nostalgic. It made you feel like you and Alastor where as happy as you used to be. "Come on Alastor, let's go home, I'll make you some jambalaya." He looks at you with a smile as wide as his eyes right now. He lowers his face to your's his radio static making his voice deeper. "That sounds lovely."

@fairyv-ice @sirens-and-moonflowers @cannibalcoyote @jyoongim

#hazbin hotel #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin x reader

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fyorina · 7 days

Text

ᡣ𐭩 KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER (ALL I WANTED WAS YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: he can't stop himself from calling; you can't stop yourself from answering. he never speaks, but he doesn't have to—just knowing he's there is enough to lure you in. that's how it remains for weeks. that is until you mention that you're going on a risky mission and dazai has to to make an equally risky decision to keep you safe.

(wordcount: 3.1k; fem!reader, pm!reader, post-defection, angsty but not awfully so (again, sorry, i swear there's happier ones coming), implied alcoholism, dazai gets a bit jealous, ango cameo)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: OKAYYYYYY this was actually my first pm!reader and pmzai fic, believe it or not, it's been in my notes app for ages. i tried to fix most of the inconsistencies. as always, can be read as a standalone butttt for the people following the pm!reader universe, this comes directly after death by a thousand cuts! i hope you guys enjoy!! im actually rlly excited to finally get this fic out here!

He calls you sometimes.

Well, you don’t know for sure it’s him—he never speaks, if you’re lucky sometimes you can hear soft puffs of air from the other line, and the number is always unknown, but you know in your heart that it’s him.

The first call came three days after you found him drunk in an alley—seven months after his defection.

The unknown caller ID popped up on your phone while you were drinking with Chuuya in his apartment, trying to forget all about Dazai Osamu and all of the pain he’s brought you. You answered it irritably and when you got no response from the caller, you promptly told them to fuck off and die if they’re going to waste your time with prank calls. You expected them to hang up right away but they didn’t—in fact, they only hung up when they heard Chuuya shouting for you to get off the phone so he can open another bottle of wine, as if he wasn’t going to anyway.

The next call came another three days after that.

You were in a meeting with Mori when the unknown caller popped back up on your phone screen. You excused yourself to answer the phone only because you were desperate for a reason to get out of the meeting—you think that he might’ve somehow sniffed out that you ran into Dazai and if he outright asked you, you didn’t know if you’d be able to lie without him catching you in it.

Regardless of the reasoning, you were even more pissed off than you were the first time when you heard the silence on the other end, accusing them of fucking with you and demanding to know how they got your number—again, the person didn’t say anything, and you hung up even more irate than you were the first time.

It takes three more calls for you to put the pieces together—it’s a bit embarrassing how long it took you, but in your defense, you were trying to put Dazai Osamu as far from your mind as possible. Honestly, you weren’t even sure of it when you first guessed his name. It’s a shot in the dark when you answer the unknown caller for the fifth time and whisper, “Dazai?” so very hesitantly. Your confirmation comes in the form of a sharp inhale on the other line before it instantly goes dead.

He doesn’t call again for two weeks, and when he finally does, it’s in the middle of the night. The buzzing of the phone woke you up, your alarm clock glowing a bright 3:15 am. You don’t even look at the caller—you figure it’s Chuuya, who has yet to return from his mission in Sendai—as you answer with a groggy “what?”

You get no response besides the sound of a shaky breath on the other end and suddenly you’re wide awake as you realize who exactly called. He doesn’t speak, even as you make yourself sick with anger—he’s conscious and coherent this time, unlike the time you ran into him in the alley, so you take the opportunity to unleash all of the pent up rage and hurt that you’d withheld that night. You cry for the first time since he defected and he stays on the line the whole time, until you eventually exhaust yourself and fall asleep. When you wake up in the morning, he’s hung up, but the call time reads four and a half hours.

It becomes a weekly occurrence—occasionally biweekly.

Sometimes, you tell him about your day, rambling on about how you were irritated because Mori made you deal with Ace or complaining about recent territory issues that the Port Mafia has been facing—something that you probably shouldn’t be sharing on an unsecure line with someone who defected from the mafia, but you can never bring yourself to fully care because it’s Dazai.

Other times, you just lay in bed quietly, exhausted after a full day of work, the phone resting next to your ear as doze off to the comforting sound of his steady breathing.

You don’t tell anyone.

If anyone knew you’re keeping in contact with a traitor, you’d be executed. You think that Chuuya might know—the two of you now share the penthouse of the westernmost skyscraper of the five buildings of the Port Mafia’s base and you know he’s smart enough to have put together who you’re talking to late at night. But if he does, he doesn’t say anything, because he too knows what the consequences of your actions would be if it were true.

You let out a soft puff of air as your phone begins buzzing—it’s well past midnight and you’re half asleep, but you roll over and pick up the phone with heavy eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

Dazai doesn’t respond, he never does, but you can hear him breathing on the other line, closer to the speaker than he usually is. You can’t help but notice that his breath is heavier than usual too, a bit shakier.

He’s been drinking, you realize. You figured that he usually drinks on the nights that he calls you, but he never lets himself close enough to the speaker for you to figure out if it’s true. You just hope it’s not as bad as….

“I won’t be able to answer for a while after this,” you say quietly after a few moments, rolling over in bed to shift your face closer to the phone. “Mori assigned me another mission. An infiltration one—first one since you’ve been gone.”

Dazai would know the implications of that, and from the way he inhales sharply at your words, you know he does instantly, even in his drunken state.

Whenever you were sent on infiltration missions, Dazai was always the one in your ear, making sure that you got in and out safely. You refused to take infiltration missions unless Dazai and his freakish prophetic ability was the one on comms for you because you knew he’d be able to figure out if you’ve been compromised before the enemy have even figured it out for themselves.

But you had known it was only a matter of time before Mori put you back on them. You’re the best suited in the Port Mafia for them and the recent issues with that gang that’s been moving into the northern wards from Asakusa all but demands interference from the inside lest you guys will be dealing with another major gang war and the city can’t handle that.

“I’m nervous,” you admit for the first time, voice little over a whisper. “I don’t trust anyone but you to be my eyes and ears. Plus this mafia is... They're very violent. Kawabata leads it. I faced off against him in Osaka before he moved into Tokyo, back when I was still in Kyoto. It's... risky. It's been years but I'm worried he'll recognize me. I don't know why Mori is insisting on me being the one to go in.”

You swear you hear Dazai take in another breath, as if he was about to say something this time, but he doesn’t. Your throat feels swollen and your eyes feel misty, jaw tight. Not for the first time, you miss Dazai. You miss him so desperately that you swear your chest caves in at the thought of him.

You want to hate him but you know you can’t. You've come to accept that already. But you think you still might like to pretend you can.

You told yourself after you ran into him that night that you’d push him from mind, you’d forget about him. You knew that one day you��d meet him again—you and Dazai Osamu have been entwined since the day you met, fate has a lot left in store for the two of you for things to just so abruptly end—but until that day, you have to focus on what matters. And what matters is the Port Mafia.

But how are you supposed to forget him when he can’t even bring himself to fully leave you behind? You think it’s cruel of him, and you think that you should ignore his calls until he finally gives up, but you can’t bring yourself to because no matter how much you preach about forgetting him, if the choice of keeping contact with him arises, you’ll always choose it.

“I miss you,” you breathe out, voice cracking over your words. “I miss you so much that it hurts, Dazai. i-“

The line goes dead.

The words on your lips die as soon as you realize he hung up, heart sinking. You sigh as you stare up at the ceiling before curling over onto your side, hoping to at least get a little sleep before your early wake up call for mission prep.

But it’s a naive hope—you know that you’ll never sleep tonight, not with thoughts of Dazai Osamu racing through your mind.

Dazai shouldn’t be doing this.

His knuckles are white as he sits at a row of monitors in a locked down ex-government facility. On each of the screens are different vantage points of the main base of the Scarlet Gang, the mafia that had been run out of the Asakusa ward of Tokyo by the Sun and Steel and is now challenging the Port Mafia.

Ango is pacing somewhere behind him, expression tight and arms crossed against his chest. Dazai knows that he’s livid over this, but Dazai also does not care because he doesn’t think that Ango has a right to be livid about anything that Dazai does anymore.

He’s been here for three days already. His knees are tucked to his chest as he sits on the spinning chair, bags heavy beneath his eyes and hair matted and oily after days of sitting in front of the screen without budging an inch. He doesn’t dare take his eyes off the screen—not when your life is on the line, and especially not when he’s not even on a direct comms line with you. All he has is a burner cell and hope that you at least take a look at your phone if he has to send a text.

If this mission is like every other infiltration mission you’ve been sent on, it’ll be another two days before your planned extraction—and if you have the same luck you always do, the mission will go smoothly. But Dazai has a dark feeling in his gut, and he isn’t quite sure if it’s because he has no control over the mission or if something bad really is going to happen, there have already been some suspicious signs and he doesn't trust Mori. Your whole comment about his insistence on you going keeps scratching the back of his head like he's missing something, because there's no way Mori would ever risk losing your ability, especially to Kawabata. The man is always scheming, and Dazai is certain there's one simmering below the facade of this mission but he just can't figure out what. Either way, he knows he can't risk stepping away for even a moment.

“I thought you were done with this, Dazai.” Ango finally has the nerve to voice what dazai knows he’s been itching to say for three days. “I thought-“

“Maybe you should stop thinking,” Dazai says dryly, his head hurts and sweat is beading beneath his arms. Three days without drinking is affecting him way more than he thought it would, but he can’t afford to be inebriated for this.

“Dazai-“ Ango begins.

“I’m not doing this for the Port Mafia,” Dazai cuts him off, dark eyes dragging across the screen to where he sees you laughing with one of the members of the Scarlet Gang, leaning in close with a teasing smile.

You’re beautiful. Stunning. He can’t blame the way the man you’re talking to seems to gravitate closer to you, enamored by the sound of your voice and the way your eyes glitter beneath the room’s chandelier, but he still wishes he could put a bullet through his head.

He hasn’t seen you since the day before he left—well, he doesn’t remember seeing you since then, at least. He has some suspicions regarding the part of his ear that mysteriously went missing the night he woke up in one of your shared safehouses, but this is his first time really seeing you and it makes his chest feel sick and heavy to know you’re so out of reach and by his own doing, nonetheless.

His eyes narrow as he watches the man reach out to brush his fingers against your arm. His lips twist down even more when his gaze tracks down to your lips—this is always his least favorite part of being on comms for your infiltration missions.

“You won’t be able to oversee all of her infiltration missions anymore, Dazai,” Ango says, voice a bit more gentle and Dazai has a distinct urge to rip out the man’s vocal cords. “Once I get your records clear and you’ve joined up with the Agency, you’re going to have to leave this all behind for good. All of it.”

Dazai doesn’t respond. His lips press together tight as Ango’s words register. He knows that he’s right, that if he wants to honor Odasaku’s final wishes, then he has to leave everything behind—even you—but he can hardly even bear the thought of it. Never seeing you again, never hearing your voice again, he thinks that a life without you is not a life worth living.

He thought that he’d be able to do it, that he’d be able to cut you off just like everyone else, but it only took one drunken night at a bar when he stared at old pictures of you for a bit too long for him to give in to the aching feeling in his chest, the desperate need to at least hear your voice one last time.

Except one last time turned into another and another; as much as Dazai Osamu likes to pretend to be strong, he’s always been weak at heart for you. From he moment he met you three years earlier during the Dragon’s Head Conflict—sent with Chuuya by Mori to retrieve you after finding out the squad sent to escort you back had been decimated by an ability user—he’s known that he was out of his depth when it comes to you.

He was already curious to begin with, Mori doesn’t speak highly of anyone but he did speak highly of you, and at first Dazai assumed it was just because you were a girl, and a young one at that. Everyone knows Mori’s gross fascination with them. But when they found you mid-conflict with an ability user, trying to hold your own with only a gun and some rubble as shields to defend yourself from sweltering flames, he realized that maybe there was more that meets the eye to you.

You’re beautiful—god, he can never stress it enough, words don’t do you justice. Wicked smart. Can talk your way into and out of any situation. Have a bounty on your head high enough to rival his own. From the day he met you, Dazai knew you were everything he’s ever wanted. And yeah, maybe it took him too long to come to terms with that, but it doesn’t make the feelings any less powerful.

Sometimes, when he drinks just a bit too much and he finds himself staring at old pictures of the two of you that he’d taken, he wonders if you would have come with him if he told you what he was doing. He wonders if maybe he hadn’t been a coward, you would be with him right now instead of risking your life on an infiltration mission with some incompetent moron on comms instead of him. He wonders if maybe he would have kissed you on that same bridge he tried to kill himself during that first week he spent drunk and alone.

He doubts it. In his heart, he’s pretty sure you’d always choose the Mafia over him, but it’s nice to pretend sometimes.

“I don’t care” Dazai finally says, his voice rougher than he intended as he gives Ango a cold look from the corner of his eye. “I won’t let her die on a bullshit mission because some clown is on comms for her.”

Ango doesn’t get a chance to respond again because Dazai’s eyes are drawn back to the monitors, where a conversation is taking place on the far side of the room. A conversation that has them looking in your direction a bit too often for his liking.

Dazai inhales, rising to his feet, shoulders and arms tensing as his eyes trace the screen, trying to figure out if he should send you a warning. If he’s wrong, it’ll have completely blown your mission and it would put you at risk if Mori or any of the other executives start questioning you as to why you abandoned the mission for no reason.

But if he’s right…

Dazai is good at many things, and he’s always been quick to be the one on comms with you because he, better than anyone else in the mafia, is good at reading and predicting enemy moves. He always knows in his gut what’s about to happen, you would sometimes joke that it was his real ability, some form of foresight and you would be less joking when you nudge his shoulder and tell him that you’re glad you have his ‘freaky prophetic ability’ otherwise you’d have been dead a long time ago.

Dazai grits his teeth. He feels Ango approaching him from behind but ignores him, mind racing as he tries to calculate the best course of action.

Finally, he takes the burner phone and shoots you a short message: compromised.

And then he waits.

The longest and most tense minute of his life passes as he watches you on the screen, waiting to see if you’ll even bother to check your phone. He doesn’t think that he’ll be able to stay in the room if it turns out you are compromised and stuck in enemy territory—he’d feel helpless, unable to do anything but watch and pray to a god he barely believes in that you get out okay.

Come on, he thinks to himself as one of the men begins making his way in your direction, nails digging into his palms so deeply that blood began to flow from the crescents. Come on, check your phone.

And then you do.

He lets out a shaky breath of relief when he sees you pull out your phone, eyes tracing the message on your screen rapidly. A flurry of emotions rocket across your face, and for a moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to cry.

But then you smile again, leaning in and clasping the man’s hand and leaning in to brush your lips against his cheek before making your way out of the room. He doesn’t dare look away until you’ve slipped out of sight from the cameras littered throughout the building and out of danger.

Without another word, Dazai turns to leave the old facility.

“Dazai,” Ango calls after him.

Dazai ignores him, snapping the burner phone. You’re safe—that’s all that matters. Now he can go back to drinking himself away and dreaming of what could’ve been.

Two days later, Mori sends you away on a mission abroad that lasts the next three years. That night was the last time he had any sort of contact with you until you’re finally brought back.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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lychgate · 4 months

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Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

#my art #tbb #tbb echo

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satoruhour · 7 months

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not to be the bitch that makes everything abt me but i will. sometimes when we're at home and my bfs bored he'll just look at me and go "u want head ?" and i feel like gojo would do that, our little munch. dont even have to say yes cause he already knows u do lol

(also this is just a thought not an ask (im not sure if they're open so i wanted to clarify that :p ))

LMFAOOOO HE WOULD 😭😭😭😭 hes very impromptu like that and it varies from person to person but id def be a liiittle annoyed if i had plans bc i cant just cancel but also im pretty sure gojo gives heavenly head that i cant reject him.....

youd be lazing at home, a one day break from missions and youre so used to being busy that it feels odd to laze around. you can hear gojo’s whines from the living room just cause u decided to spend ur off day in a more productive way but by waking up early (and leaving him in the bed, hence the whines) but youre starting to regret it bc u can feel ur eyes drooping and staring blankly at the tv is NOT helping and gojo is just stumbling outside scratching his body under his shirt and woo wee he always look so good in the morning you have to change ur position to clench your thighs tgt

“morning baby” its cute and all but by your second movie gojo keeps yawning and hes tucked under your arm its adorbs. is terrible at timing bc he asks u when theres a main character death on the screen and youre like in a "no wait i liked that character" state. youre not ENTIRELY sad sbout it but the fact gojo asks ..... when said character on screen got shot .. LMFAOOOO???

“you want head?”

you groan, “NOW? i wanna know what happens to xyz character”

“stop lying you watched this movie before! i remembering coming home to the credits after i finished a mission.”

“man stfu”

you never can win against gojo though bc he traps u in his charm easy enough, interrupting your focus by kissing you and teasing you with words. he has no decorum 😭😭😭 soon enough hes easing you to lay back against the couch and peeling away your pants.

“youre such a bad liar baby! youre wet already”

“yeah from KISSING . not seeing han die in tokyo drift!”

“let that man GO his car isnt even all that anyway”

“you take that back right now!” it’s all banter LOL its usually like that with gojo but he cuts you off soon enough when he kitten licks your clit and you moan and youre already sighing in the middle when gojo emerges again.

“to be fair, he is pretty cute.”

“gay ass.”

gojo tsks and pouts, only laying on your thigh with a big frown.

“you wound me”

“shut up and eat my pussy.”

“okay damn!”

hello hello!

#asks #anon #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

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imtryingbuck · 6 months

Text

Come back

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: The team lose their friend (I’m bad at summaries sorry)

Word count: 3,919

Warnings: Angst. Sad times. Swearing. A grave gets dug up. Brock Rumlow.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

In Loving Memory Of Y/n L/n

Killed In Action Saving 5 Innocent Children

Dedicated Agent

Friend To Everyone

10/05/1990 - 10/05/2017

“Pass me a donut will ya”

Everyday since the plaque went up 5 years ago, Bucky always reads it. Everyday a small chuckle will leave his lips when reading the quote Tony made sure was engraved in the marble. ‘She always said it and she did tell me once that when she died to have it on the plaque they HAD to give her’ Tony repeated that conversation when they deciding what would be put on the plaque. It was true, did she always say it. He can hear her voice saying the words he reads every day.

Putting his two fingers to his lips he lightly kisses them, the gently places his fingers on her photo. Her ID photo took 8 tries to take because she wouldn’t sit still or she wouldn’t keep a straight face. In the end they settled on the final one, her with a huge smile on her face. She told Bucky once when he had asked-

‘why are you smiling in your photo?’

‘Because a smile a day keeps the dentist at bay’

‘That’s not an expression’

‘Well it should be’

He missed her more and more every day. Today however left a bitter taste in his mouth, today was the anniversary of her death.

Every year since they watched their friend die, the team makes sure they don’t have missions just so they can celebrated her death as well as her birthday.

Every year on that painful day they gather in the common room and watch all of her favourite films and play all the board games she went crazy over, they would order and/or cook her favourite food. Then they would each blow out a candle on the large donut Tony had specially made for her birthday.

He remembers that day when Tony surprised her with it a few years before her death. Her squeals made everyone laugh, she made everyone blow out one candle ‘it’s my birthday and I want everyone to get a wish’ and as the years passed they still did it.

They were halfway through the third film when director Fury walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but you guys need to hear this”

“What is it?” Tony asks sitting up from where he was slouching.

“Earlier today there was an attack at SHIELD headquarters”

“How many are dead?” Steve asks.

“The real question you need to ask is how many are alive Rogers”

“Well?” Natasha speaks up from where she sits next to Wanda.

“None. 28 people are in critical condition” each member of the team murmur their different abbreviations of ‘oh god’.

“Who was it do you know?” Steve questions.

Walking around the sofa and sitting down on the lone chair Fury sighs “There’s was only one person. With a symbol on their back, take a wild guess which one”

“Hydra” They all speak at the same time.

“Yep. Now heres the reason why I’m here. The computers were tampered with, the IT department has managed to find out what was deleted”

“Go on” Tony says when Fury trails off.

“The file.. the only file to be downloaded and deleted was Y/n’s.”

The teams reaction was different from one another’s however Bucky, Bucky’s heart stopped, he’d gone cold and clammy at the same time, so many questions circled his mind. Why hers? Why now? Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? Why her of all agents?

It was as if Steve could read his mind because it was him that asked “Why hers? She’s been dead for 6 years now. Why would Hydra want her file?”

“We-I don’t know. Now here’s the part you guys are not going to like. Ross wants Y/n’s body to be dug up”

Before anyone get say anything “Absolutely fucking not! You touch her grave I’ll kill you myself!” Bucky shouts.

“Then I’ll bring you back to life just to kill you again” booms Thor.

“Listen to me, I don’t want to do this! Ro-“

“I don’t care what Ross wants. It’s bad enough her headstone needs to be replaced every two months because of arseholes keep wanting a piece of it, now you want to dig her up? It nearly killed all of us watching her coffin go into that hole now you want us to watch it come back up?” Bucky’s left hand is balled tight in a fist as he paces back and forth.

“You don’t have to watch and you need to watch your tone” Fury shot back.

“What are you going to do with her?” Wanda asks before Bucky can say anything.

“We’ll put her somewhere different- safer. It’s just a precaution and we have no idea what they want with her file. We don’t know why they picked her out of all active agents and Barnes I don’t like this anymore than you do, Y/n was” taking in a deep breath “I miss her too. I’m sorry but I’m going to give Ross the go ahead on this. You guys don’t have to to be there when it happens and when we find out what’s going on we’ll bury her again. I promise”

For a full 20 minutes after Fury left they were sitting in complete silence each trying to wrap their heads around the information they were just given. SHIELD headquarters had been attacked by Hydra - using just one person to assassinate so many agents. Out of all the Agents of SHIELD alive or dead they pick their friends file, their friend who they loved and adored the same friend who always had a smile on her face no matter what, the one person who could light up a room just by walking inside of it. A person who was so full of happiness and sunshine yet deadly and damn right terrifying when she needed to be.

Now said friend who they have grieved for, for the past 6 years was about to have her resting place disturbed. Like Bucky had said to Fury, it nearly killed each and everyone of the Avengers and the Guardians - who came to Earth just to attend her funeral - they knew that the probability of dying on the job was high, of course they did, they just never expected it to happen to her, they had to watch as their friend, confidant, colleague, the better half to all of them lay in a box surrounded with 4 camera crews broadcasting their every move just so the whole world could watch them in their most vulnerable moment. They watched as her coffin was gently placed into the ground, knowing that it was going to be the last time they would ever see her after the soil would cover her.

They broke. Plain and simple, they broke. Worst part of it was is that the world lapped it up, the images of Natasha more famously known as the Black Widow standing at the grave of her best friend in bright colour clothing crying, was every where - people joked about how the deadly assassin was crying, saying she wasn’t as strong as everyone made her out to be because she cried. Y/n was undoubtedly the only person Nat felt comfortable with, the one person who saw Natasha as Natasha, not the Black Widow but her friend Natty. She was actually the first person in a very long time to see Nat cry, it was when the goldfish - that Y/n had brought her after she found out that Nat had always wanted one - had died, she felt so unbelievably stupid for crying over it but all Y/n did was hold her, told her to stop being silly for calling herself stupid. They buried it near the lake, just the two of them. Y/n even had bagpipes playing on her phone which made the redhead chuckle.

Wanda was called a crybaby because guess what? She was crying, she was crying because she was burying her best friend! The first person other than Steve to treat her like a human being. The first person to show her that not all people were bad, the one person who wasn’t scared of her that time when Wanda had lost control of her powers making people run in fear, not Y/n though nope she was the one who managed to help Wanda ground herself.

Steve was also mocked for crying for the loss of his friend, ‘Captain America weeps at funeral’, ‘Captain America is weak’, ‘Steve Rogers needs to give up the shield’. Y/n was the one who taught him how to use technology, showed him how the modern world worked and operated. She was the first person on his side when he wanted to track Bucky down. He loved her, not romantically, but he loved her so much. She made him feel normal, she never treat him like he was nearing a 100 years old who was missing 70 years of his life, like he actually was.

Sam just like the rest was called weak for crying at his friends funeral. The two of them drove the whole team insane when they were together (which was pretty much all the time) Like Steve he loved Y/n, she was his sister, his angel as he always called her. She was his best friend, favourite person in the world. The photo of Sam falling to his knees at the side of his angels grave was blasted all over the internet.

The photos of Tony clinging on to his now wife Pepper made front pages as well. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark cries at funeral of dead agent’. ‘Billionaire Tony Stark has to be held up by woman at funeral’. He saw Y/n as his daughter - shit she called him dad and he introduced her to anyone as his daughter. She didn’t see him as a bank, nope she hated it when he would give her money, one time she had to ask him if she could borrow money from him doing it with tears in her eyes because she felt ashamed of herself for asking. A few weeks later she gave him the money back with interest, when he told her to stop being silly and for her to keep it they argued for nearly 3 hours. She managed to slip the money into his pocket without him even realising it. Tony loved her so deeply, when he and Pepper found out they was having a baby girl they already had her name picked out - Morgan, Y/n’s middle name.

‘God of Thunder Thor spotted crying at funeral’ Like everyone else of course he was crying he lost his friend, she made him laugh, she made confused - once she convinced him that she was invisible and that he was the only person who could see or hear her, for 3 weeks he was absolutely convinced he was the only person on planet Earth who could see her. It wasn’t until Sam got back from a mission that the whole jig was up. He was truly captivated by her but even more so especially after she was able to lift Mjölnir higher up than Steve was able to, waved his hammer around like it weighed nothing. He, like Bucky, blamed himself for her death, he thought no believed it was his fault she was no longer with them. So yes of course he cried.

Bruce wasn’t allowed to attend his friends funeral because when she died he couldn’t control the big green beefy fella - as Y/n called him - from coming out. Fury and Ross said it would be bad and take the attention away from Y/n if the Hulk was there. He agreed. Y/n loved Hulk like she loved Bruce, she wasn’t afraid of the Hulk - Christ she once tried to have an arm wrestle with him! She didn’t once make Bruce feel like he was a freak or a dangerous monster as small minded people called him. No she treat him with respect and kindness. It took 2 months for him to go from being Hulk to being Bruce again.

Clint turned his hearing aids off for months after her death, he remembered her asking him to teach her how to sign language just so he didn’t have to always wear them. That was an interesting experience to say the very least. Clint adored her, adored the spark she carried around, adored the warmth and tranquillity she oozed. Her strength, willpower and willingness that no one could dream of having been one of the many things he loved about her, and what he misses. The day after she died he went home, home to his wife and children where he collapsed in Laura’s arms and cried himself to sleep that night. He too was mocked for being weak.

Then there was the photos of Bucky who was struggling to stand strong. ‘The world’s deadliest assassin cries’ was the headline on magazine’s for weeks or his personal favourite one ‘Winter Soldier more like Weak Soldier’ Like Nat he too was mocked because he wasn’t wearing all black but bright colours - hell they all were, it was what she wanted and whatever Y/n wanted, she got. Her death hit him the hardest. He loved her. He still loves her after 6 years of her being gone. ‘True love is what them two idiots have’ Tony would say. He blamed himself for what had happened to her, he had just turned his back for a second to hand a child to an agent when the whole building came down trapping her inside, he should of done more he always tells himself. Other than Steve she was his best friend, the one person who wasn’t afraid off his arm, the only person who could calm him down after a nightmare. She was the first person he opened up to and not once did she judge him or called him names, after he finished telling her all the things he remembered she got up and walked over to him and pulled him in for a hug, crying her heart out and apologising over and over again. The worst part for Bucky other than losing her was that he never got to tell her how madly in love he was with her.

“It doesn’t make sense” Steve was the one who broke the silence.

“Which part?” Tony asks.

“Everything. The attack, Y/n’s file, Ross wanting her to be dug up. Nothing makes sense”

“We need to figure this out. We can’t let them do this to her” Sam shakes his head, whilst trying to keep the tears he was fighting back at bay.

“Fury let me into his thoughts. They think they’re trying to find out how to recreate her genes.” Wanda finally speaks.

Once again the room went quiet. Y/n back story was still a bit of a mystery to the team. It was just something she never spoke about, they knew of the scars that covered the majority of her body and they did know of her mutant gene and that was it.

Y/n was exactly like Logan, better known as Wolverine. Though Logan’s a Beta level mutant whereas Y/n was an Alpha level, the only one of her kind. She had complete control over her abilities, her fighting skills were untouchable and unmatched. She was a part of the Weapon X program, when she was a young child she was taken from the orphanage she was placed at as a baby - and unknown to the team she was subjected to the worst abuse imaginable at the hands of The Facility. Unlike Logan though her Adamantium claws weren’t poisonous.

And what made Y/n even stronger was just like Wanda she had telekinesis abilities, though Y/n was a bit stronger than the other woman.

They didn’t know that Logan had found her when she was 16, with a chain wrapped around her neck that was connected to the wall, in a dark room that only had a toilet - nothing else. Logan had managed to get her out, which wasn’t easy considering she didn’t trust him and he wasn’t her handler. Logan kept her with him for roughly three years, moving around place to place, keeping each other safe. He was growing weak and unable to keep his promise to her, promise being he’d keep her safe. With a heavy heart he took her to Fury, begging the other man to take care of her. And since then she was a highly respected SHIELD agent and member of the Avengers.

They knew if Hydra were trying to recreate her genes they would have an army that would be unstoppable.

“But why dig her up? Hydra has her file so therefore they… they…”

“Tony? You okay?”

“Other than finding out my daughters grave will be disturbed, I’m fine”. He gets up and walks away.

One by one they follow his lead, leaving Bucky and Thor to blow out the candles - making the same wish as the previous years.

For her to come back.

The very next day they all gather at the cemetery and watched with a heavy heart as her grave gets dug up.

Three days later Fury gets a phone call “Fury you need to come to the Pentagon as soon as you can and don’t tell anyone”

“On my way”.

As soon as he got there he meets with Ross. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s not her”

“What are you talking about Ross?”

“Y/n… it’s not her in the coffin.”

“Hold on, you fucking lied to me you told me you wasn’t going to touch her!”

“Fury we brought a dead agent to the Pentagon for a reason”.

“A dead agent? Remember that dead agent saved you life how many times? Oh yeah six. Six fucking times she saved your arse Ross.” The anger coming off Fury made everyone in the room shift foot to foot.

“Sorry, we brought Y/n to the Pentagon for a reason”

“Why?”

“Simple. We wanted to make sure that they hadn’t gotten to her so we checked, and it’s not her. If-if you just look to your left Nick you’ll see the body that was in her coffin”

Fury stood there for a few minutes just staring at Ross before he looked over to where he had pointed.

There laid the decaying body of a woman, that was most definitely not Y/n.

“H-how is this possible?”

“We don’t know. It’s a possibility that Hydra got her body first, but it doesn’t explain why they would put this person in her place”

“Or she could be alive?” Fury asked hopefully.

“She’s not” Ross puts a hand to Fury’s shoulder “I checked the footage of the attack and it’s not her, I asked some of the agents that could talk if the person had claws and they all said no” Ross hated himself for calling her ‘a dead agent’ even if she was just that, but like Fury had said, she saved his life more times than one. When Y/n was introduced to him, he had to admit he was intimidated by her. But as time went on they gained each others trust and respect.

“Fury you can’t tell the Winter Soldier about this”

“James. His name is James and you honestly expect me not to say anything to the team?”

“We have no idea how any of them will react, especially him and Thor”

He hated to admit that Ross did have a point, there was no idea how the two men who blamed themselves for her death, would react.

Sighing “What are we going to do?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s just hope and pray that they don’t have her I guess”.

The screams of pure terror coming from civilians were muffled by the gunfire and explosions, the bodies of civilians and SHIELD agents scattered amongst the wreckage. Hydra made another attack on the Capital.

The Avengers were able to stop Hydra agents from pushing further forwards. But when the ground started to shake they all looked at each other.

Both Steve and Bucky gulped at the sight of the Uber Tank, memories of seeing it during the war flashed through their minds.

“What the fuck is that!” Tony questioned.

“T-that’s Hydras Tank - I thought I destroyed it” Steve answers.

The rain pour of gunfire came to a stop on both sides, agents of Hydra smirked, agents of SHIELD looked terrified. The rumbling stopped, the only sound that could be heard was rubble still falling in the background.

When the hatch came open they waited with bated breath. Rumlow.

Brock Rumlow climbed up and out of the tank, standing on top with a megaphone.

“Do you like her? She’s a real beauty isn’t she? Took us longer than I care to admit to rebuild her but here she is!” He laughs “Hey so the attack the other week on your headquarters, sorry about that. We just needed something, take a wild guess what” Not receiving an answer he sighs and tilts his head to the side “It was to get your friends file! Jesus do I have to do all the work around here?”

“I’ve got a clean shot” Voiced Clint from where ever he was at.

“Not yet” Steve says.

“Truth to be told guys we didn’t need her file, we just wanted to give you a heads up to what was going to come” Waving his arms towards to chaos “I knew if we took her file it would get your attention, and it did didn’t it. I also know that her coffin was taken to the Pentagon, and I also know that Fury’s been keeping a secret from the almighty Avengers”

“What are you talking about?” Steve shouted.

Rumlow chuckles “It’s about time you spoke Captain America, the secret is… how about I just show you huh?” Stomping three times on the Uber Tank “Little bird why don’t you come out so you can play”

The hatch comes open again, a figure all in black - very similar outfit that the Winter Soldier use to wear - emerged and moving their way to stand next to Rumlow.

“Our little bird here is even stronger than she once was. We gave her the serum and it just enhanced her strength.” Moving closer to the person he whispers something none of them could hear. “Look I’ve gotta go, don’t worry I’ll be taking this beauty with me so no need to cry. I’ll let little bird have all the fun, she deserves it” Placing a kiss to the side of the woman’s head, he pushes her off. “Good luck everyone, you’re gonna need it” Climbing back into the tank, the tracks started to rumble once again before leaving the same way it came.

Nobody moved even long after Rumlow and the Uber Tank had gone. That was until some Hydra agents started to drop to the floor with foam spilling from their mouths.

Little bird as Rumlow called her took one step in front of the other until she was roughly 100 feet on the Avengers.

Her hand slowly came up to her face, removing the bottom half of her mask then the glasses.

They couldn’t believe it.

They didn’t want to believe it.

“Y/n?”

Tags: @bethexo07 @doublebassallie

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

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sadnightforus · 5 months

Text

YOU MIGHT BE SLEEPING (LJY)

biker boyfriend!juyeon x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to surprise you for the 500 days anniversary, he took you on a ride to his favorite places that are far away from the city, after various complaints from you that you found nothing to do in Seoul.

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

WARNINGS: none… we reached this point guys (besides the mentioning of Eric being a super rich guy that’s all). too much fluff *insert the crying waterfall emoji because normal emoji does not cut it*

A/N: don’t know if y’all know this but I was inspired by that one particular fanmade video. the og concept was supposed to have a bad boy vibe but he looks too good in that middle pic so I have to comply with this one instead. so cute, I’m kicking my feet fr. also omg full on fluffy soft fic from me??? I Will Die. 😭😭😭

ALSO THIS IS THE FANMADE VID.

reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated!

You’re bored of Seoul.

Don’t get it wrong, you don’t hate the city at all. But Seoul always has something going on. The streets look amazing during the day and night and there’s modern technology everywhere. Everything seems so fancy and lavish. You’re proud of how far the world has come.

Even though it’s incredibly hard to earn a quiet time for yourself since it’s a really busy city and if you want complete silence, you have to block out their own voices. It’s hard to ignore the presence of others when there are loud noises and so many people at once.

However, for you, it’s also the city of love.

You met Juyeon when you both first enrolled into the same college and happened to closely share a semester together due to the duo group work your professor was making you do (and the deadline was well over 2 weeks). Those 2 weeks were blissful, you used to think he was a bit cold and even more so, a bit too full of himself, since he is immediately dubbed as ‘the dancing prince’ and he hangs out with the popular crowd. But your first impressions didn’t matter because he was incredibly nice and polite, and was so helpful when helping you with the project too, be it ideas or just offering to take places in completing the work. And you both ended up getting an A due to the outstanding efforts you put into your work, which you have to thank your amazing partner for.

And after the project ended, he still keeps in contact with you, insisting that you’re quite an interesting individual to know and hope to develop a further friendship. A total lie from him because he later admitted that when you both got into a relationship with the saying that by then, he already liked you and he just wanted to see if he has a chance with you.

Now back to the present.

It’s Saturday and you both are on a semester break. You live with your roommate/coworker and she’s off to work already, leaving you alone in this apartment as it’s your day off today. You were cleaning up your room and wiping off the dust off the furniture when suddenly you received a phone call. You look at your caller ID and you can’t help but smile when you see who it is.

So you pick up, pausing your cleaning process so you can talk to him just a little bit.

“Hi, my pretty baby.”

That name never fails to flatter you and make your heart jump out of your chest.

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

You think you do a pretty job concealing your flustered face and tone (rightfully, sue him for reducing you into a mushy lover). Otherwise, you would’ve been so embarrassed if he knew he had done irreversible damage to you.

“You don’t have any plans for anything today, right?”

“Why? You wanna take me to one of Eric’s father’s fancy restaurants?”

“Great idea, actually.” He laughs, humoring you along. It’s no secret that Juyeon loves spoiling you. He had a hard exterior, according to all of your friends and you yourself. But when you guys began dating, they were subjected to the PDA between you two and their opinions on him quickly changed because just who is this guy? And plus, he also likes to take you on a new adventure.

Somehow, it makes you feel like a naïve teenage girl who’s dating a bad boy and you always wanted to ask him if he is truly one (even if you know he works part-time as a barista for his parents’ café shop). It’s hard to believe that someone as perfect as him can possibly exist. It’s unbelievable.

“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for today's exploring.” He shyly explains and you can feel his shy smile tugs through his tone. What have you done in your past life to get a guy like him wrapped around your finger? Whatever you were doing, you’ve done it right.

“If it’s Seoul, I’ve practically walked through every shady alleyway. It’s no fun.” You whine, your wet cloth cleaning off the dust is long forgotten amidst the phone call between you and your lover.

“It’s not Seoul. I wanna take you somewhere else.” He keeps it vague and you suspect that he has a surprise for you.

“Okay, let me clean myself up a bit.” You exclaim, putting down the wet cloth and hanging it up to dry from your bedroom (in your defense, it’s not dirty at all. You have a habit of wiping off your dust often and you definitely don’t have enough time in your hand to clean it right now).

“Can you pick me up in an hour and a half?” You ask him, strutting around in your room to go to your bathroom to freshen yourself up.

“You can still show up in sweats and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He says, means every single word of it because he thinks you’re pretty. So goddamn pretty he loses his mind over you and he doesn’t believe that he’s the one who gets to have you all the time.

“Lee Juyeon, shut up. I think I stink. Do you honestly like it when I’m sweating like a dog?” You make a gagging face while you’re putting on your cleansing foam.

“The sweats can’t wipe away your beauty.” His reply makes you want to bang your head into the wall so bad.

God, he’s such a romantic.

“I’m showering. You can save that sappiness when you pick me up later.” You furiously blush, trying to get him to end the call so you can get ready to go wherever he leads you to.

“I’ll see you later then, baby.”

And the line is disconnected.

You sulk a bit before putting your device back as you snap back to reality. But you’re also beyond excited where he will take you to today.

So you divert your attention back onto getting ready and hoping that the new things you’ve been wanting to try out will work.

“You look absolutely breathtaking.” Is the first thing Juyeon says after he comes to pick you up.

You decide to wear a black big cozy jacket, combined with black jeans and white shirt, which goes with his similar casual wear that he chooses.

There’s a spark in his eyes as he scams your whole body. A boyish smile yet so much of a shyness ticks behind that expression. He hands you a helmet, to which you still remember that the particular item is a gift from his dad who bought motorcycle tools equipment as a present for his 19th birthday and that includes the helmet you’re holding in your hand. You check to see if it has been unlocked yet. Once you see that it does, you quickly put it on your head, adjusting it properly before locking it and you gently hop onto the vehicle, excited for the ride.

“Are you ready?” He asks, wanting to make sure that you’re seating yourself comfortably before the motorcycle takes off.

“I’m all done.”

And you hear the engine takes off, as the vehicle takes both of you far away from your place.

The air feels fresher than usual, the atmosphere and the feelings remind you of the old Hong Kong movies you used to watch with your friends as a teenager. You always dream of doing something wild and adventurous to feel the essence of the ‘neon & loneliness’— something that has been used to precisely describe those types of movies. And now it’s like you’re living your dreams out.

If it’s a dream then you don’t want to wake up from it.

His soft woody cologne that radiates from his body all makes you feel like everything is in a daze and you’re the main protagonist of those films that you always loved. How did you get so lucky?

The motor is being driven further away from the city and you’ve crossed numerous luxurious stores and fancy places as you hold on tight to your lover. You’ve seen different kinds of people today; the sad, the happy, the singles, the couples, the divorced, the kids, teenagers, adults and you think you might’ve driven past celebrities by accident too.

Your eyes are trained to watch the road and take your worries off the daily life you’re experiencing today. You think though, instead, it’s making you realize something very precious about life.

People can be in a state of anything, regardless of their age. And they’re diverse, they have something to tell. Behind every person, there’s a story that is waiting for a person to uncover those. Uncover the deepest, best and worst parts of themselves.

You think you’re lucky that your boyfriend is the most gentle and caring person who always brings out the best part of yourself. Never once had you ever felt as if you were held back or restricted from good opportunities. He always encourages you to chase after your dream, while he steadily works towards his goal.

The short breeze through the city now has long escaped. You both are going somewhere unfamiliar, although you’re not sure how exactly familiar he is with where he plans to take you. However, you know better than to doubt him when he is quite literally the very same person with a really great taste in everything.

Your thoughts do eventually come to a stop as he drives to a gas station and by that time, it’s around 3 and a half in the afternoon. The vehicle’s engine is no longer running after he shuts the power off and you know it’s time you get off the bike.

“I’d like to fill in the tank please.” Is what he says. His honey voice, ever so softly, makes you wonder how people aren’t falling for him already. The staff comes to him immediately and helps fill in the gas as per request.

“Do you want to buy something?” He turns to ask you. “Or do you need to use the bathroom?”

“Not really.” You respond as you shake your head.

You both stand while waiting for them to pump the gas and calculate the bill. And when you both are done, he gears up the vehicle to signal that the adventure is nowhere done. You hop on it, excited to see what will be waiting for you.

You both leave the place,

Your boyfriend’s scent soon lures you to sleep, with you being barely able to open your eyes. It hasn’t been that long that you fall asleep together with him, but you both are somehow always away with the college assignments and personal workloads that are being dumped on you. Having him really close for the first time in 3 weeks does nothing but really makes you want to rest up.

And you think to yourself, hmm, screw that. He’ll wake me up when we arrive at the place.

Then you lay your head and close eyes as you feel yourself drifting further away to the dreamland that has been long awaited for you.

You woke up once you felt like you were being carried.

You didn’t register it until you felt the abnormality of the said body pillow that you’ve been resting on start moving up and going even gradually higher. It’s only then that you open your eyes, consciousness not fully hitting you yet as your exhaustion keeps luring you to the dreamland. However, since you don’t have such a habit of sleeping when you are being moved around, you try your very best to open your eyes and pray that the sunlight will hit your eyes, although it’s unlikely as the sky beams with the color of soft orange and yellow, like a beautiful fire in flames.

“Ju-”

“Shh, baby. Just sleep.” He shushes you, continuing to give you a piggyback ride. You immediately protest and almost go feral and also, almost cause a disturbance to him too.

“I’m wide awake, you can put me down and I can walk.”

“Nice try, but no.” He chuckles and you can already imagine the most annoying yet such a beautifully crafted boyish grin plastered all over his face. He’s lovely– that’s just who he is.

“But where are you taking me?” You ask, eyes now can’t close on their own as your sleepiness already wears off from talking earlier.

“You’ll see.”

And several minutes later, you both reach a part of a town that you’re sure has never been here before. He seems to be lost, with the way he hesitates to take a step further as he walks.

“But Ju…” You whine. “Can’t you tell where you’re going?” You plead for him to give an answer, you so badly wanted to know what place he will show you this time.

“Nuh uh.” He shakes his head a bit, still insisting on being mysterious and vague with the direction you’re heading.

“But will you put me down? It’s uncomfortable being carried when I’m like, awake.” You complain and he finally gives in, sighing as he puts you down and you almost stumble forward and fall as the gravity feels new to you and if your boyfriend wasn’t there to catch you at all, you’d certainly slip by now.

“Thank you.” You mumble out.

“You good to go?” He asks, offering you his hand to hold as you busk in a new, unfamiliar place together. His eyes sparkle up, light of hope and love, so much adoration stores up in a gaze of his that belongs to a person that you’re proud to call him yours.

You’re losing track of yourself with the way you keep looking at him without a word, like a dumbfounded teenager that has no idea what they should do when they harbor romantic feelings towards their crush. But he lets you, until you gulp down to wet your throat and proceed with the next thing you’re going to say.

“Yes.” You have a dopey smile on your face. “I can’t wait.”

And you both take one step, two steps and more steps forward. Until you get inside the mysterious building.

Your boyfriend is not a man of many words, but his actions are always sincere. When he speaks, he always expresses his love for you.

You can even say that in almost two years of your relationship, you never have to doubt his feelings for you. That’s just how transparent he is. You don’t think you can find a greater love than him.

With more steps further, you make it past the door and you see many abstract arts and paintings being hung, scattered all across the wall. Each frame and piece, colorfully coming together to make a piece of stories that is waiting to be told. The lines that piece it together, asymmetrically perfect in a way that it never seems to be out of place, although if you separate it, it wouldn’t make much sense to the naked eyes that only saw the remaining pieces and never get the chance to witness the beauty of the completion and harmony that lies in the form of crafts that you see with your own eyes.

Similarly, that’s how you feel about your boyfriend.

Not many people know him and you always had the impression that he was rather cold and closed off. That’s how he appears to the outsiders. The description of him from fellow classmates and his friends are drastically different because they never get to fully see what he is like as a person.

A person who is full of love to give to others, the one who dotes on others and is full of adventures.

Life with him is never boring, he brings a new kind of joy in your life. The kind of excitement that is dangerous, but you’ll let him lead you to go anywhere, even if it’s a thousand miles away. You trust him to keep you safe because never once had you been harmed or run into dangers.

He instructs you to stand in front of him, you do so without a question. He pulls out a silky fabric and you already know what he wants to do– blindfolds you for the surprise. You let him as he carefully wraps the material around your eyes in a gentle manner to ensure that it doesn’t hurt you.

“Hold my hand and follow me.” He speaks to you softly and you nod your head. “I want to show you something.”

In a sight of darkness that is hard to break from, you let him guide you. He’s your light amongst all of this and you know he’ll never let you slip or stray away. With careful steps forwarding on the stairs and going up, further and further and then the floor feels smoother without the anxiety of reckoning, it only takes a bit to finally realize you’re past the staircase.

You feel like time freezes and you’re not sure how much time has passed by, although you think it’s not that much. It’s by far, the most anticipated thing for you.

Then you hold his hand tighter as he takes you in this unfamiliar place.

You’re not the only one with so much adoration for your significant other. Your boyfriend is no different from you.

For Juyeon, being with you makes him feel like he’s in heaven. There’s no greater feeling than your presence around.

You heal a broken part of him that he didn’t know existed until you become the most cherished and frequent presence in his life, which is no doubt, loneliness.

You’re calming, intelligent and intriguing. You’re an open book, but also, a mystery that he wants to keep uncover. He can lose himself in just studying about you and he wouldn’t care. You’re that someone to him who he trusts, with all of his life.

When he inherited a motorcycle as a present from his parents in 11th grade, he usually rode it everywhere alone, even when he had friends. He discovered many fascinating locations, hearing every kind of life story from strangers whom he met on the road when he did his little exploring and witnessed people going through many stages of life. He used to watch people flirting and he wished that he had someone else to share his perspective and sightseeing with.

You came along unexpectedly and stole his heart away. He can barely imagine a life without you now. The things you do to his heart is unhealthy. You’re the sole reason that his burning passion for life doesn’t become something he deeply despises.

The once cold seat of the motorcycle is now replaced by the warmth of you. And he wouldn’t want to have it in any other way.

He has seen many beautiful things that calm and heal his soul, but none of it were you.

He thought beauty lies in the empty roads of complete darkness, or constellations and stars in the sky. But it’s clearly you, who is a Venus personified.

He’s in love and he’s not hiding it.

Which is why he wants to show you this view.

By stopping in his track as he has reach the final destination, he reaches to slowly the blindfold off your eyes, all while tells you to still your eyes closed and only open under his command.

Both of you walk further and further away, with the help of Juyeon who guides you in the desired direction. Cold breeze hits you and you realize now that you’re most likely on the balcony and not in the secured walls of this building.

“Open your eyes, baby.”

You let the light penetrate your vision as the skin that covers your seeing splits apart.

The view is breathtaking.

The sky turns into a light beat of deep orange, pale blue, deep pink and purple. You see the simplicity, the complexity and something so lively.

You see how the sky slowly turns itself into a pitch black, as the colors start to beautifully blend themselves, creating an unforgettable view that spreads through all across the universe from your own eyes. The wind blows slowly, as if to celebrate the magic of your shared happiness with him, which makes the moment even more unreal.

The lights that hang from there only intensifies its beauty.

You see polaroids of you both together being decorated, some you weren’t aware that the pictures were being taken. There are books and a table for dining that are put together like high end restaurants and you have no doubt that it wasn’t just a one day of work at all.

“Happy 500 days anniversary.” He tells you, hand gently caressing you. “This house originally belonged to my grandpa. He has since passed it down to me.” He states so ever so softly and you’re shell shocked.

“He told me that if I find someone special, I should bring them here. Because this house witnesses how my grandma and grandpa love each other and everyday is always special to them. For a long time, I didn’t understand what he meant because the idea of a lover that exists in a lonely person’s story doesn’t make sense. But I met you, my special person. I want this house to witness our love, too.”

You have tears brimming in your eyes as you listen to him speak further, all while his gaze lovingly settles on you and his thumbs wipe your tears.

“I didn’t know what love was until I met you. When you’re away, I miss you. When you’re sleeping, I wish you’re awake so I can tell you some jokes that make you laugh.”

“Me too.” You lose yourself into the warm brown eyes of his. “When I think about you, all my sadness disappears. It’s cliché, I know. But.. I think I’m so lucky to have you.” You choke on your own silent sob as he presses light kisses onto your lips.

“I’m so lucky to have you too.” He says truthfully. “I never believe in destiny, but I think we’re destined to love each other.”

And under the now moonlight that slowly shines onto you both, he cups your face and kisses you with all his might, as fireworks go off in the sky, as if to be a witness of this beautiful love story.

You don’t care for any of that as he whispers ‘I love you’ and you whisper one back too.

COPYRIGHTED BY SADNIGHTFORUS, 2023

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dylan-o-yumm · 9 months

Note

Hi there! I just wanna say that I love your writing it’s so good 🫶 anyways I can’t stop thinking about Leon coming back from a mission terribly hurt, and the reader just worries over him and takes care of our sweet boy 🥺 giving him the love and comfort he deserves 🫶 stay safe out there and remember to hydrate! 🫶

Firstly, thank you for the sweet and kind words, anon 💜 you’re precious

Okay so I changed it up a little bit just because I have a longer fic in the works that’s exactly this request lol, so keep an eye out for that one! This one is more… moody? And the love and comfort is more... frustration and argumentative. Hehe

And I imagine RE6/ID Leon for this one but you can imagine who you want!

WARNINGS: wounds/gore, if you're squeamish then maybe don't read just to be safe. Reader is also kinda a bitch, but we all know Leon loves his challenging women lol

“Hey, kid. Mind if I come in?” He asks, already slinking his way inside your home, his hand clutching his right shoulder that was scratched and torn up, leaking blood down his leather jacket and spilling small droplets onto your floor as the blood slid down his bicep and trickled down his fingers.

“Leon, go to a hospital. You’re making a mess,” you grumble, shutting the front door that you had just opened to greet him, and turning around to glare at him with your arms folded over your chest.

“Nice to see where your priorities lie,” he quipped with a hint of humour in his voice. “I’ll clean up any mess I make, I promise.”

You watched him as he made his way to your bathroom, grumbling to yourself as you looked at the floor and saw the trail of blood that he was leaving behind him.

You’ll have to mop again. Even though you just mopped the floors this morning... Maybe you wouldn’t care about the mess if Leon was actually dying. However he loved to come to your house to patch himself up after, almost, every mission. This wasn’t a once off, this was a reoccurrence.

Last time it was broken ribs, which you got into a fight with him about. You were determined that he go to a hospital and seek actual medical attention, but he was adamant that he was fine and would heal on his own. The two of you had a screaming match— well, you screamed, he was pretty calm the whole time. You were paranoid that he would pierce a lung, and then what would you do? You had no medical practice aside from when he would visit, you’d have no idea how to help him. Turns out all he needed was some ice and lots of rest, so it wasn’t too bad.

The time before that, he had a pretty severe concussion. Which again, resulted in the two of you fighting about if he should or shouldn’t go to a hospital, but the night ultimately ended with you forcing him to stay awake so he didn’t die in his sleep. You realised fighting would probably make his condition worsen and he was too stubborn to give up and go to a hospital so you lost a lot of sleep that night, keeping him awake by talking since watching tv would also worsen his condition. So Google says anyway.

The time before that it was a dislocated shoulder. The time before that it was a nasty slice on his thigh that desperately wanted to get infected. The time before that— well, you get the picture. You are Leon Kennedy’s personal nurse whether you like it or not.

“Hey, kid. Come here,” he called out to you from inside the bathroom and you sighed heavily, ready to see whatever injuries he had. It was going to be bad and you were going to yell at him to go to a hospital and he would refuse and you would end up helping him. Rinse and repeat.

You made your way to the bathroom, dodging the drops of blood on the floor so you didn’t walk even more of a mess throughout the house. “I keep telling you, I’m not a fucking doct- oh fuck!”

The moment you saw him, you stumbled and fell back against the bathroom door, feeling your stomach drop while bile rose in your throat.

His jacket was off and hanging over the shower door while his shirt was half off, hanging around his neck and his left arm as he had freed his right arm. Though it wasn’t the lack of clothing that disturbed you, it was the pair of tweezers he was digging into his bloody shoulder, clearly trying to dig something out.

More blood was gushing down his arm and the sickening squelch of him digging around inside his own flesh made you very light headed.

“Hey, come here I need an extra pair of hands.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Come on, I can feel it, I just can’t get a hold of it. Need that bad boy outta me before I can stitch it up.” He barely looked at you, instead frowning deeply at his shoulder while he dug around his own flesh.

You were going to kill this man with your own bare hands.

“Bullet wound?” You ask, swallowing the bile in your mouth.

“Not sure.”

“How are you not sure?!”

“Just— help me would you?” He sighed, giving up on the task at hand as he took the tweezers out of his shoulder, handing them towards you. Both the tweezers and his fingers were covered in blood, warm and sticky. You wanted to cry. Or scream. Or punch him. All of the above.

You took the tweezers and grabbed the open bottle of rubbing alcohol off the bathroom counter, spilling some over your hands and the small tool. Leon watched you silently, sitting comfortably on the closed toilet lid, man-spreading and slouching as if he didn’t have a gaping hole in his shoulder.

“I hate you so much, just FYI,” you told him as you placed one hand on the top of his shoulder to steady him and yourself while the other hand with the tweezers came up and slowly dug into the hole. Leon hissed, probably because of the antiseptic, but he was soon calm once again. The man had probably been through so much pain in his life that this felt like a breeze.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you hated me,” he smirked, watching your face while you were very focused on finding whatever it was that was inside his arm so you could get it out safely. And also not throwing up on him as the squelching noises of the tweezers moving around inside him made it very hard to control your stomach.

“Maybe you hate me then. Having me do this for you even though you know how much I hate it, when you could just go to a fucking hospital.” You grumbled, frowning at his arm. You could feel the small piece inside him, scraping against it with the tweezers, you just had to grab it and pull it out without accidentally pushing it further inside.

“That’s not hate. That me being selfish,” he looked away from you, his smirk dropping and his eyes hardening. “I trust you more than some stranger to poke around inside me with a pair of tweezers.”

“You shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing.” You huff.

He was silent then but not because he didn’t have a response. He was more focused watching you pull out a small golden bullet from his arm, that was slightly crumpled from the impact at which it was fired.

“Well what do ya know? It was a bullet,” he sighed heavily, though relaxing further into his seat. The both of you looked closely at the piece that was once in his arm, but now sat firmly between the pincers of the tweezers.

“What the fuck else would it have been?!”

“Trust me you don’t wanna know.” He scoffed. “Anyway, time for you to stitch me up.” He clapped his hands once, wincing at the pain that shot up through his arm as he did so. He leaned forward slightly and rested his elbow on his knee.

“Leon. I’m not a doctor,” you huffed, dropping the bloody bullet into the small trash can beside the toilet. You then dropped the tweezers into the sink and ran some water to rinse them off. “I understand you trust me more, for whatever reason. But this isn’t fair. I hate doing this. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I thought you cared more about the mess I was making in your house.”

You rinsed your hands in the sink next, watching Leon’s blood swirl down the drain. Though his snide comment had you shutting off the water and turning to look at him with a hand on your hip and an unamused look on your face.

Leon parted his lips and avoided your gaze, sighing as he realised you weren’t in the mood for his playful attitude.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head and grabbed a handful of toilet paper to start wiping away the blood on his arm. “I know I shouldn’t put you through this. I know it’s unfair on you.”

You crouch down in front of him and place your hand on his knee. “Tell me why you do it. Why do you come to me instead of a professional?”

Leon continued to clean his arm, avoiding eye contact with you but the fact that he was being quieter and softer now made your frustrations ease a little. He was acting more unlike himself and more like a soldier, hardened by the many wars he faced.

“When I’m out there on the field,” he pauses what he’s doing and looks up, but he doesn’t look at you, instead his eyes remain distant, unfocused. Maybe lost in a memory. “I look forward to this. Spending time with you. It’s not the best circumstances I know, but after seeing the shit I see... coming back to see you is like a breath of fresh air. I guess I just wanted to be selfish about something, you know?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding and you looked down at your hand that was resting on his knee.

He didn’t get to be selfish a lot in his line of work, it made sense that he would just like to be doted on and cared for instead of being the one who cares for everyone else. This was his break, his vacation.

“I guess—“ you swallow the lump in your throat, refusing to meet his gaze, not that he was looking at you as he was quite flustered after what he just confessed. “I’ve been pretty selfish too. I mean you show up with a bullet wound, bleeding everywhere and I... I mean I’ve been pretty bitchy,” You chuckle but you don’t feel very good about yourself.

“Look,” you start, “what if you come see me more often? Preferably when you’re not bleeding. We can watch movies, relax. Give you the down time you deserve. Just... if you have a crazy injury like this, please get it checked out by a professional? That’s all I ask. I’ll pamper you as much as you need afterwards, okay?”

You’ll give him a vacation that he actually deserves.

“I’d like that,” Leon smiles, closing his eyes to take in the warm feeling for a moment longer. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn’t look away this time. His eyes were so blue, so expressive, so inviting.

You’re not sure what compelled you but your eyes lowered to his lips, so soft looking, only a little chapped, probably from being a little dehydrated after his mission, or maybe the blood loss. Either way you felt yourself leaning forward, inching closer and closer.

Until he cleared his throat.

“Do you mind sewing me up? I’m kinda bleeding out here.” He chuckled softly and you felt your face heat up and your eyes widen.

“Oh fuck, right,” you quickly jump to action, finding the needle and thread, cussing silently to yourself for being so stupid. “We could have talked after I patched you up, you know?”

“Ah where’s the fun in that?”

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cryptcoop · 4 months

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id love to hear what are some of your personal headcanons for moira and niran if they did ever get in a relationship

I will finally answer this ask with a few of my moiraweaver thoughts

For starters, I think they are playing a very dangerous game. Moira doesn't leave Iraq much, Oasis even more so. So they are usually together there. Oasis has incredible security.. they know when Niran is there, pretty much the instance he steps foot within the university. However, Moira, being minister, holds a lot of power within Oasis, and therefore is granted a lot of leeway.. but not that much. The only thing stopping Talon/Oasis from stopping their get togethers is the fact that it's hard to completely erase the existence of and replace the Minister of Genetics without a few heads turning. They aren't playing it safe either. She brings him to galas touting him around on her arm, outwardly affectionate towards each other, an act of defiance towards Talon. It wont last for long.

I think Moira is a very touch averse person, and Niran is very respectful of that. However she is usually quite comfortable with his touch. He'll usually test the waters, fingertips on her upper back, a light bump of their shoulders together, and if she doesn't bristle to the touch he will be more confident. He has very warm hands and I like to think it's comforting on her body.

I see Niran as a man and Moira as a woman, but they are both definitely playing outside of their roles often. I see Moira as more of the "man" of the relationship, especially outwardly, but they hold equal power within their relationship. To me they are two queer people having fun, they are definitely not a straight couple.

Given that Niran is often on the run, he travels quite a lot. He will send her little gifts from the places he visits and write cards. He often asks Sombra to deliver his packages to her to keep it discreet.

I like to think that Niran can grow a little bit of facial hair (He is typically a very well kept man when he can be ((he waxes/plucks)) but it can be difficult when you're an active vigilante) and if he returns after being gone for an especially long time, Moira cannot kiss him unless he's clean shaven. She can't stand the feeling of facial hair. Sometimes she will pluck/wax/shave him herself, a little indulgent thing for her. They will do each others makeup as well from time to time.

I think in the same sense that Niran will use his healing touch to soothe Moira's ailments I think Moira will also, on occasion, use her biotic grasp on him (I like to think she can do it without her pack to a lesser extent, given that she already has the attachments for it embedded into her arm.) It's hard for me to explain, as it's not something she does to actively hurt him, I think he probably asked her to do it out of curiosity. I think it's.. a trust thing. She has the ability to drain his life away, just as he as the ability to heal hers. A coming together of opposites. Metaphor, Metaphor, yatta yatta, you get it.

Every once and a while, Niran will engage in a game with her, where he will ask her to run away with him. It's a fruitless effort. Moira can't run away from her life. She's dug her grave, and she's actively laying in it. You do not run away from Talon, and you don't run away from the wrought you've wrung into the world. I wrote a little tidbit about it a little while ago :3 here:

Niran shifts to his side, propping himself up by his arm and looking down at Moira. He lacked his usual playful smile, instead opting for a more determined look. “Run away with me.”

Ah, this song and dance. “And where shall we go?”

He hums, considering his options. They’ve played this game a hundred times, and even if the outcome was always the same, he tried anyway. “Iceland is beautiful this time of year, and the hot springs are to die for. I’d love to take you.”

“No.” Moira glances towards him, not wanting to move from her comfortable position. “Much too cold, I prefer the heat nowadays.”

She watches as his hand strays from his side. It wanders to the buttons of her shirt, ever the indulgent one, unable to keep his hands to himself. “Australia?” He undoes one of the buttons, fingers slipping past silky fabric. “You know, the people living in the outback are quite nice when given the chance.”

“Those Junkers?” Moira fails to hold back a laugh. “Preposterous.”

“I’m being serious! They’re resilient and incredibly resourceful, like you.”

Moira rolls her eyes. “I’ll take your word for it.”

That smile of his comes back. “I think their queen would take a liking towards you. She needs someone to punch back her hotheadedness.” He idly feathers his fingers across her collarbone. She sighs, the warmth of his hand soothing her aching body if only for a moment. He’s starting to think he could be winning her over. “I could take you. Admittedly, it’s antiquated, but I think they’d accommodate you. Plus no one would come looking for you out there.”

Just as quickly as he believes to have the upper hand, she snuffs him out completely. “Too much sand. It kicks up and makes a mess of everything. And I would go mad without running water.”

Niran’s posture deflates, visibly dejected. “Just come out there with me, I promise you won’t regret it.”

He’s starting to beg. He knows the game is over, and he’s pushing it. She takes his hand from within her shirt and places it back to his side. “No, Niran.”

He stares at her for a long while before accepting his defeat. “Alright.” He says, voice quiet.

#I am the ceo of yapping about moiraweaver #I LOVE MY MEOW MEOWS !!! FUCK !!#SCRAWWWW 🦅🦅🦅#QNA

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celaenaeiln · 5 months

Note

bruh every single time u mention about bruce and dick it has me going “man id be worried abt them if they were real cause thats so unhealthy like they fight each other but they cant stand to be separated damn but good thing this all r fiction lmao”

I burst out laughing when I read this cause it's true!

Forever Evil Issue #5

The world is literally half gone. Things are so bad that villains have banded together to fight evil and Bruce is here saying that the world can die if it means saving Dick.

Not a single care if the world is blown up or millions lose their lives if it means keeping Dick alive.

But right after this,

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

He punches fights Dick while telling him he loves him!!

What do you do with with this man?!

"I trained you to live, and I watched you die!"

Bruce, don't you think the person who actually died has more truama than you watching them?!

But, no, of course not because this is Bruce.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

Spyral is an organization that even Bruce didn't know about. Something even more mysterious than the Court of Owls.

Nightwing (2011) Issue #30

He's literally beating Dick while simultaneously telling him how he's the best in the world.

But here's the kicker - Bruce is furious that Dick was taken away from him, hence the beating.

All this fighting, he's mad that Dick lost his life. How dare he lose something that's in Bruce's control.

And that's where the problem comes. Bruce wants 100% control over Dick. Over his actions, over his life, over his death. The level of control he wants over Dick - insane.

They are so emotionally attached and that's unhealthy but it's also really addicting to watch! Because Bruce just wants complete control over Dick while Dick wants to be on his own, independently but Bruce refuses to let Dick have that and they both know it which is why they devolve into arguments.

Right after Dick recovered from have his life brutally controlled by the Joker, literally right after, Bruce goes full throttle on manipulating Dick to come back into his side.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

All Dick wants is a small break so he can collect himself. He hasn't even changed out of his costume yet because the Joker mind controlled him with a memory crystal that rewrote his entire memory as if the Joker was the one who saved Dick after his parents died. That's insane.

But Bruce immediately does this-

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

HE MANIPULATED DICK TO GET HIM BACK. But when that doesn't work, when Dick still wants a break from Nightwing, Bruce pulls out his final card - his ace.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

He guilt trips him with Alfred's death, with Dick's other father's death to tell him that his dead dad wouldn't want Dick to live this way.

And that is how Dick becomes Nightwing again.

I used to think that Bruce used to hurt Dick emotionally by pretending to abstain from loving him but the problem really is that Bruce loves Dick too much to let him go. He cripples Dick's freedom because he wants Dick to always stay with him rather than letting him go and be free. And that's equally toxic on the other extreme of the spectrum.

#dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #the joker #cl anon asks #thanks for the ask!

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tramon81 · 1 year

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I've been thinking why the Arven Storyline is so good, and I think it's about pacing and delivery.

Pokémon SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also recalling this from memory so might be some inconsistencies but the spirit is there :) .

There's this mild mystery about this guy at the start, apparently he knows your Legendary Lizard and is responsible of it. He also seems that he'd rather not deal with said lizard, foreshadowing or a more classy term, setup. We also end up realising he is the son of the Professor with very little to go on of what this relationship is.

It is implied in NPC dialog that the Professor has been away from the public from a long time, but being the owner of the lizard that you own now he/she actually shows him/herself to you. He/She calls you by student ID, weird. And requests you sometime travel to Area Zero, the forbidden area, where he/she presumably has taken residence.

When you meet with Arven on the lunchroom he proposes that you embark on a quest for, ... Herbs? Herba Mystica that seem to have some weird healthy properties. It is known that he likes cooking but didn't think he was a healthy foods enthusiast, a healthy lifestyle guru. Anyway you consider it.

Later he gets into a fight with Nemona into who's path you should follow. He seems really aggro on keeping you to his mission. Weird.

First mission, after the fight, you find the Herb, ok seems more than just curative bogus, he cooks ya a sandwitch and Koraidon goes ahead and asks for yours. Arven seems apprehensive but you eventually give it to the bikemon and whoa! It got its powers back. So maybe Arven is helping his parent out? Or was this not planned? Wait "you can come out now"? What pokemon did he send and why was it kept a secret? Weird.

Now, for the first "delivery" on all these "setups" this guy's not just a crazy cook in search for the ultimate ingredients, the setup at the cafeteria has its answer in Mabosstiff, the pokemon he secretly sent out last scene. It is stricken with a weakening health condition and the reason his owner is gathering all these ingredients is to cure him before it's too late. This is great for two reasons: 1. We know there is a ghost dog Pokémon with a similar build to it's preevolution and it can evolve so the dog could indeed die and turn into that. Also we now have a reason why he's been so jumpy, he doesn't want you to help him, he needs you to help him. If you ignored him and went with Nemona or that wacky Hacker, He'd be all on his own, and may not make it.

After some more adventures, smth smth setup for weird futuristic/ancient form of Donphan he recognises. Mabosstiff... Is cured! The relief on his face and the tension of the story is relieved as the dog wears again its toothy grin. This sort of thing is actual good storytelling methinks. Simple but effective. What a great... Wait it's not over.

Apparently it is revealed that you must finally go to Area Zero, together with the other cast, it's exciting because there's been so much build up to it, mystery and weird new pokemon. However it is also revealed that, one of the strongest deliveries in the story, Arven has an absentee parent, which made him be on his own... With only Mabosstiff as his family. This is potent. Of course this makes you want to meet this prick, see what kind of character does such a thing, but more importantly, it gives weight to Mabosstiff's recovery, together you saved not a dog, but the only family left by his side.

After you completed all three routes, he shows you the way to area zero. Which you discover about the place and the Professor, fellow of science, too absorbed in it, made a time machine oh so that was the deal with that donphan, oh cool there's more where it came from. There's also some very cool banter with the three coprotags, specially love the one about parents, this stuff is more direct than even Sun and Moon sometimes.

The Professor is acting odd though. Arven is suspecting something's off but doesn't really like the implication. You get swarmed, paradox pokes at all flanks. Another Lizard. Arven also reveals that he was envious and blamed Mirai/Koraidon for his parent's absence as there seems some unknown trust finally building up between them at the end of the scene. You enter the lab and finally get to meet...

Oh.

AI Sada/Turo. The professor died in an accident, standing in their place is an imperfect cold and robotic replica of the deadbeat progenitor. This "delivery" if you didn't have it spoiled just, hits way different that all others, the person who you probably hate by now, is long gone, no happy or cathartic reunion, no Arven giving a piece of his mind. If he wasn't by now, your friend is now officially an orphan. This copy seems to garner regret from its actions, its work is too dangerous and wants you to destroy it. The one thing that came over its family, its true passion, it is at least able to do away with it. However, you have to battle it as the defence system overrides its AI with this... well, it's pretty much the part of it you hate, obsessed, distant(literally lol it's like a good story above you up there). You beat it as your friends and Arven come to see the machine terastalize its insides or smth and it blocks your pokeballs and send the aggresive Legendary agaisnt you, completely unarmed you try to do something but your Sandwitch friend the MotoLizard achieves his battle mode. This makes things even, however you tetastalize him into even more of a dragon and oneshot him.

Last scene, AI is defeated, however for the machine to be over, "it" has to be over too. Arven pleads for it to stay, but it decides to go to its paradise, its life work and creation takes it to a different time in a final act both selfish and selfless sacrifice, In front of its son. Finally, "the climax".

You see, this all lead up to this, every setup and every delivery. Arven has finally faced the memory of his Father/Mother and it, in consecuence, has faced him. A bit of a somber note, but hey this is a treasure hunt, what about his treasure. I can't believe I'm saying this but this is one of the best implementations of "The friends we made along the way" trope I've seen. You see Arven has this factor of "afraid of ending all alone" that is implied a bit through the game, he is a bit abrasive but has a good heart. The last scene(Not the Ed Sheeran one) shows him on a understandable horrid mood when suddenly both Penny and Nemona suggest to go to eat, he is hard to get at first but this sense of now, connection to these people, propels him to join (Also Lizard nudge).

This is actually, even if way more contained, a bit on par with explorers of sky for best writing pokemon ever had. At least in my view on the matter what do you think?

#pokemon spoilers #spoilers #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon #pokemon gen nine #arven pokemon #arven #pokemon sada #pokemon turo #nemona #penny pokemon #mabosstiff #miraidon #koraidon #paradox pokemon #character analysis #pokemon character analysis #pokemon story

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bitchysouljellyfish · 1 year

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“El día que me quieras”

Rodolfo Parra/Reader

Inspired by this and the incredible writings of @yeyinde because God their writings are to die for! Title is inspired by the song of the same name by Carlos Gardel! The indented writing is done by yeyinde!

Enjoy!

The ocean is a distant roar beyond the sprawling green cut into the fells. The scent of heliotrope and sun-ripened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses around you like a heartbeat.

Your finger taps the porcelain mug on the patio table, eyes soaking in the crystalline shore in the distance, basking in the sun. The warmth. The door slides open. Music from inside drifts out. Los Cojolites. He has a fondness for son jarocho. You can smell the sweet mole he's cooking waft through.

He comes up behind you, hands on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. You lean back, head pressed to his tummy as you squint up at him. He's bathed in ochre from the sun: a halo around him that bleeds into your retinas until all you see his the shape of him. Your pulse quickens.

He smiles down at you, lunar white. Love in shades of vermillion leak from the curve of his mouth.

"Want some company, cariño?"

As if you'd ever say no.

Alejandro introduced you to him.

You were the medic, part of the Task Force 141 that had came to Las Almas to assist with El Sin Nombre. You were dwarfed by the other two men who accompanied you, El Fantasma and Soap who had you tucked into the middle of them, protecting you from harm as you protected them from the Reaper.

"This is Seargeant Major Rudolfo Parra, my right hand man. Ghost, Soap, and Bog." He points to you last, and you give him a smile and a nod and he feels the sun on his face like never before. You were radiant, the stress and trauma gracing your eyes but it didn't stop the rays of hope that shined through them. He almost didn't notice the strange call sign.

"Tengo miedo de los fantasmas." He attempted to joke but got nothing but a flat stare in return. "And...Bog?"

You sighed in exasperation, Soap chuckling and slapping his knee in glee. "Feel free to call me Doc instead, Sergeant Major. Soap is terrible with call signs." And that is where it ended, the conversation going serious as he drove through the streets of his home with the gradual realization that eyes were on him, but they were not vicious.

The name Bog stuck much more easily than Doc, to your dismay he could tell, but he had to admit. It fit you. You bounced back from injuries and stressful situations like the soft ground you were named after, yet you could spew acid at those deserving.

"You be safe huh, Darlin'? Can't be too careful with our good ol'doc." Graves's southern drawl cuts through the comms.

You sighed, irritation and anger apparent in your voice. "It's Doctor or Captain, Commander Graves. I give you respect you give me respect."

"What about Bog?"

"Friends can call me Bog."

"We aint-"

"No."

Soap snickered through the ear piece, Ghost telling them to stay focused before the comms went silent again. You were waiting at headquarters with Rudy and the other members of his unit on standby in case there was any medical emergencies while the others went through the cartel compound.

"Doctor?" He asked, because you certainly didn't look old enough to have one.

You turned with wide eyes, doe like he recalled, before smiling and showing your ID card. "Got it while I was enlisted, then I went to Officer Candidate School and the rest is history."

"Your family must be proud, as should your team to have such capable hands with them." He turned his chair so he was resting his arms on the back, one eye and ear out on the cameras.

"Gaz thinks differently, says I'm a torturer with a needle but that's just because he's afraid of them." Then you put a finger to your lips and pursed them, winking at him so slyly that it made his heart leap into his throat. "But I'm not supposed to tell anyone that."

He laughed, resting his head on his hand and tried to keep the admiration out of his eyes. "You have my word, bonita, I won't tell a soul."

You and him spoke like that for ages, only breaking when the on ground team needed something. Your chairs were significantly closer together than when you had started.

He had become so smitten with you in the small time he had known you that when they were relieved of duty he didn't want to end the conversation. He walked you back to a room just for you, female soldiers weren't common in Mexican Special Forces, talking low and walking slow as to prolong his time with you. You had told him about your home in America, somewhere cold that got snow every once in a while and he had watched as you spoke animated about what you would do with your family.

"What about you Rudy? Any experience with snow?"

"Enough to know I am not built for it," he laughed, "No, my home is by the coast, with plenty of warmth for the rest of my days."

"Oh a beach man huh? Am I gonna get the chance to see you in a speedo?" You smirked at him, stopping at your door and peering up at him through your lashes.

"I am Mexican, Bonita, not European, but..." all of the confidence he had managed to keep throughout the night melted away suddenly. Shaking hands reached for your fingers, just enough for them to curl around your knuckles and you held them twice as tightly. "I could take you, some day, when this has calmed down. You would like it. I will make you so much food and drinks you would not know what to do with it all."

You stepped forward and kissed his cheek, feather light and petal soft but it was enough to knock him off his feet. "Its a date. Good night Rudy."

"Buenos noches, bonita."

He had watched you, passing glances through the time you spent with Los Vaqueros and became entranced. You were intelligent, witty, funny, beautiful, and strong, you had to be to carry wounded from the field but it did nothing to rough up the hands you had touched him so delicately with.

Yet those hands, oh those hands, were sculpted by angels he was sure.

You had patched him up after Hassan Zyani left him for dead and Alejandro, his brother in all but blood, saved him from the building, blood running down his head and barely able to walk he was so dazed. He remembered you laying him down, cold water on his face and you soft eyes and gentle hands on his skin and he thought it was heaven. You barked orders to get medical supplies, but made your voice soft and warm when you spoke to him. He noticed then that you always did that, when it was just the two of you or when the attention was away, you spoke to him as if he something soft and gentle to and by God he was.

He was clay in your hands, clay to be molded and shaped to fit into your shape so that your radiance could heat him and bring him back to life so that he may support you and hold you and keep you safe.

"I think a new call sign is in order, hermosa." He whispered, numb to the pain in his head as he raised a hand to hold your face.

"Shh, Rudy, hold still. I'm almost done." You caught his hand, squeezing it tightly as you wrapped the bandages around his head.

"I think Angel is much more fitting. Eres un ángel, esos suaves toques solo podrían pertenecer a una." You smiled and finished the bandages, looking down at him with fondness as you held his hand to your chest.

"I think you have a concussion."

"Perhaps," he shrugged and used his other hand to grasp your cheek. "Or perhaps I have died and the angels had no other choice but to use your face, although I hope that is not the case. I still have to take you to the coast." He struggled to keep his eyes open as the pain medication you gave him started to take effect.

Rodolfo felt something then, firmer but still soft as roses on his lips. "You better." He heard you say, another gentle touch on his forehead that he couldn't recognize before slipping unconscious.

The next time he would kiss you would be just before you left, Valeria in custody and the plane that would cart you away from him waiting behind you. You take his hand and press an envelope into it. "I'm a romantic." You explained, "Write to me?"

He cradled your face and pulled you close, kissing your lips with as much gusto and adoration he could fit into it before he could lose his nerve. The feeling of your arms wrapped around his neck would soon become a favorite of his.

"I will." One more kiss to your lips and you were away.

It would be another six months before he could hold you in his arms again, swinging you around once you came off the airport terminal and committing the sound of your laugh to memory. He wasted no time in taking you to his villa, one hand on your thigh as he drove and you resting against his arm.

And soon the ocean is a distant roar, muffled by the sounds of his Los Cojolites and the sizzling of breakfast he was cooking. The scent of heliotrope and sun-rippened tomatoes is heavy in the balmy air that pulses in time with his heart. His shirt open and revealing the marks you had given him the night before and that morning and he sees you, sitting on the veranda with a cup of coffee and tour own marks on display. Rodolfo smiles and walks out, settling behind you with a hand on your shoulder and another under your chin as he looks at you with nothing but love.

"Want some company, cariño?"

And he knows you could never say no.

#cod x you #rodolfo mw2 #rodolfo x reader #this is long as hell #not beta read #im obsessed with this man #fluff #so much fluff #love #waxing poetic #rodolfo parra x reader

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wooahaes · 7 months

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sharpshot

pairing: non-idol!mingyu x gn!reader

genre: fluff.

word count: 0.8k~

warnings: food mentions. reader and mingyu being flirty idiots. mentions of wonwoo getting the flu in the bg but he's not present.

daisy's notes: i hate him (said w heart eyes) !! imagine seeing his cute ass working at a darts booth. id die!

Fuck, why was the guy running the darts booth so handsome?

You had come here yesterday with a group of friends who had never gone to this particular festival before. To be honest, you had a pretty nice time! You won one of them a little stuffed frog since Minghao was rarely in the area for long and you wanted him to have a gift. You split a funnel cake with Soonyoung, who cheekily wiped away the caramel and powdered sugar from the corner of your mouth with a teasing comment about how you’d been distracted by ‘him’ again. Chan had gone on several rides with you when the others didn’t feel like going, happy to take one for the team and keep you company. Other times, Jun had been the one to sit out with you, enjoying a snack with you because you never gave up the chance to have festival foods.

And now… You had dragged along your two roommates with you. Seungkwan, who read you like a goddamn book after Chan told him what was up, and Seokmin, who knew the fucker.

“Oh him? That’s Mingyu!” Seokmin had said after Seungkwan pointed him out. “We went to college together. I can introduce you, if you want.”

Technically, Mingyu kind of knew you. He recognized you immediately as ‘the person from yesterday’ and asked about your boyfriend.

“Minghao isn’t my boyfriend,” you said with a little too much force. Fuck. Rewind. Backtrack—

“Oh, he isn’t?” Mingyu leaned against the counter. “Is he?” He nodded toward Seokmin.

“Roommate,” Seokmin had raised a hand, chuckling. “So is he,” he nodded over toward where Seungkwan was pouting a distance away. You had promised him hot chocolate first, and now you were ‘probably going to chat up Mingyu.’ “They’re single.”

Before you could say anything else, Mingyu chuckled. “Good.”

Oh, you knew a sign when it was practically neon lights flashing in front of you. You opened your wallet, shoving money into Seokmin’s hand and saying something about getting you a hot chocolate… and to take his time coming back (spoken under your breath where Mingyu hopefully didn’t hear). Seokmin merely chuckled and wished you luck, going back to Seungkwan and walking off with him. Which meant it was you, Mingyu, and whatever unfortunate soul came over to try their luck at the game.

Which, weirdly enough, didn’t work out too badly.

“My friend usually runs this,” Mingyu told you. “Wonwoo ended up with the flu this week, and since he already had the spot paid for and everything set up… I told him I could do it.”

Handsome and caring? “That’s sweet of you,” you hummed.

“He said I could keep half of what we have leftover,” he admitted after a moment. “But I would have done it anyway.”

You leaned against the counter, resting your arms on the metal as you gazed up at him in the trailer. “Why?”

He, too, leaned against it to gaze at you. If he wanted to, he could quite literally kiss you if he just leaned down. “You get to see people happy sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes they’re only getting small prizes,.. But they’re still cute. Like the frog you won yesterday.”

You hid a bashful smile behind your hand, Right. You chose it because Minghao liked it, but you’d found it cute, too—even though it was one of the smaller prizes. “Can I try again?”

His eyes lit up a little. “Oh?” He stood up. “Sure.”

You slid over the money, and he handed you the five darts before stepping out of the way. “Is it five to win one of the big ones?”

“Only four of the red balloons,” Mingyu said, pointing them out. “It’s supposed to be five, but I like giving them out. Three, if you’re a kid.”

All you had to do was pop four of the red balloons to get a big one. Gold ones would net you anything smaller, but there were far more of those than there were red ones. You weren’t horrible at darts, to be fair—yesterday you were more distracted by Mingyu than anything else. Today, you had a new goal. Pop! One red balloon burst as your first dart pierced it. Pop! A second…

“Are you some kind of expert?” Mingyu chuckled.

You shrugged. “My friend has a bar. I reign supreme at darts.”

Another chuckle, warmer than before. Endeared to you. You threw another dart through the air, popping yet another red balloon. And then another, before you looked at Mingyu.

“How many for you to say yes to a date?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the trailer wall. “Five.” You could see it in his eyes that he was lying. I’d say yes if you asked me outright, though.

With another pop of a red balloon, Mingyu had already written something down and slid it across to you. “I close up at nine,” he said. “And I haven’t eaten since lunch, so if you want…”

You’d treat him to whatever he wanted as long as you got to see his cute face again after this.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @staranghae @synthetickitsune @weird-bookworm

#wooahaes.fall23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #mingyu x reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x you

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