#if anyone ask wheres *insert character* im gonna bite you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munivrse · 7 months

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so 🧍I had a sudden thought abt experient bada n innocent reader where bada start trying out what kind of kinks turn on reader, but like, she does it cautiously, pet names here and there, trying out biting, risking some degradion maybe? hehe and she observe every reaction waiting for the time she can start abusing them until reader gives in🤭

this got me giggling and kicking my feet LETS GOOOOO

it really would start so cautious like she usually calls you "baby" "sweetheart"... throw a "honey" in every once in a while.

but then she starts calling you "princess" and like... its not necessarily out of character but you're like 😳 okay

your eyes dart up to hers the first time she says it and you get a little flushed so shes like! great!

now yall know i believe in corruption kink bada lee supremacy so

she thinks its so cute when she bites at your lip while you kiss

the first time she does it, its out of instinct- immediately she's like "baby- i'm so sorry. did it hurt?"

but then you were avoiding her eyes! so she grabbed your jaw a pressed a light kiss against your lips,

"did it hurt, princess?"

you look up at her, pupils dilated. you hesitantly nod but

she leans down and kisses you again, biting your lip once more.

this time you let out a small moan.

and bada just grins against your lips,

check!

she kisses down your neck, nibbling just below your ear

you grab at her hair and squeeze,

check!

now you're in the practice room.

she's just finished her joint class for "on my mama"

and you just kept staring at her through the entirety of her teaching, she was so focused.

you kinda got a little sad that she wasnt paying attention to you as much.

so when she's finishing up her choreo, she points at you and runs her hand down her hat (yall know wtf im talking about)

everyone is filing out and you're stood by the back mirror waving as people leave

finally the last student exits and bada closes the door behind them,

"how'd you like it?"

and you give her a passive "it was good."

she strides over to you, standing so close you were forced to lean your back against the mirror.

"just good?"

"it was great. i dont know what you want me to say."

bada mentally looks through her own personal kinks and- she found one!

she slots her leg between yours, grabbing your hips and pulling them towards her, effectively making you grind against her thigh.

your cheeks flush and she can see you gulp,

she leans down real close,

"my pretty girl wanted some attention, didn't she."

and you shyly nod- bada thinks youre so fucking cute like this.

she keeps her hands on your hips, moving you up and down her thigh.

"i'm so sorry baby, you want me to give you some now?"

you whimper and nod.

and thats how she eats you out on the floor of the dance studio!

check!

and her favorite one of all-

you've gotten so comfortable with her that you can ask her to have sex with you, but its still very hard.

she's got her headphones on, bobbing her head as she maps out her choreo.

her tongue pokes out every once in a while to wet her lips- she knows you're staring at her.

she specifically twirls her pencil through her fingers because she knows how much you like her hands.

so imagine her surprise when you insert yourself on her lap!

now shes the one blushing lmfao but she gathers herself!

she shifts her headphones so that one ear is uncovered-

"...yes?"

you are silent but your eyes are asking for something.

"think you can give me a couple more minutes?"

and this time you have the nerve to sigh and roll your eyes and oh-

lets test out another one!

"you're acting like a fucking brat."

bada scans your eyes for anything other than lust, but she doesn't find anything.

she continues,

"ready to slut yourself out whenever you want- you dont take into consideration anyone but yourself."

bada brings a hand to your jaw and pulls your face close to hers,

"i'm gonna teach you patience today. that okay with you, princess?"

and thats how you ended up getting edged for half an hour while bada fingered you in front of the mirror in your bedroom.

degradation... check!

edging... check!

this last one happened on accident.

you and bada finally went to a shop together and bought a strap- bada already had one but she wanted you to pick something for yourself.

she's taking you from behind, hands gripping your hips as she's rolling her own into you.

you're gripping the sheets under you, crying out so fucking loud that bada needs you to be quiet.

so she does what any sane person would do and she grabs you from the scuff of your neck, yanks you back towards her, curls her hand from the back of your neck to cover your throat and squeezes

"shut up and take it baby, take it like a good whore would."

and she didnt even mean for those words and actions to slip out

but when she sees your eyes roll to the back of your head, mouth drop open in a silent moan, drool ready to spill from the corner of your mouth-

she knows you were made for her.

anddddd scene!

#smut #bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada lee smut #bada lee req #bada lee fluff #bada lee texts #lee bada x reader #lee bada #bada x reader #swf 2 x reader #swf2

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sweethq · 4 years

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♡ how you become friends // headcanon

𑁍 Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Kageyama Tobio, Kozume Kenma, Ushijima Wakatoshi

»»—Trigger warning(s): none—-««

➶ Genre: hmmm fluff?

-ˏˋ A/N: I’m eventually going to do one of these for all of the boys I write for so feel free to request who you want to see next! ˊˎ-

even though iwa seems like a big tough guy on the outside, we all know that he’s a softy and such a kind person

soooooo if he ever sees anyone being mistreated, he’s gonna want to put a stop to it

you didn’t have very many friends at school, none, actually

girls at school would always torment you for no reason, calling you a freak, an outcast

you didn’t really understand why they felt the need to be mean to you, but you learned that things were never going to change and that trying to stop it would make things worse

it was typical for them to make it a point to ruin your day in any way possible

whether it was steal your lunch money, trip you while you’re walking to your desk, or ruining your homework, they didn’t have a problem with doing it

things like this have been happening for a while, but iwaizumi never saw these events happen until one day when your paths happened to cross

it was in between periods when the same group of girls shoved you into a nearby locker, making you drop your textbooks and papers all over the floor

iwaizumi turned at the crashing sound, seeing you on the floor quickly trying to gather your belongings, the group of girls snickering as they walk away from your shaking figure

he started to make his way over to you, wanting to know if you were okay

before he could reach you, the bell rang signaling the start of next period

you grabbed your belongings and hurried off to class, not giving iwa the chance to approach you

the only reassuring thing about the torment is that they limited it to only once a day

unfortunately for you, they were feeling especially mean today

you had just bought your lunch and sat at an empty table, silently excited to eat your meal as you weren’t able to have one yesterday (they stole your money again :/)

but before you could take a single bite, they approached you once more

“you bought me lunch? how sweet!”

proceeded to take the food that sat in front of you before walking away, leaving you with an empty table and an empty stomach

iwaizumi also noticed this event, he had been keeping a close eye on you all lunch period to make sure that nothing else would happen, but it did

he quickly made his way over to your table, soon hating the sight of your frowning face

when he sat down in front of you, you both just stared at each other i mean, i would if that big chunk of man was sitting across from me hhh

“are you okay? i saw what those girls did, are they always that mean to you?”

you just gave a small nod, wondering why the vice captain of the volleyball club was suddenly so interested in you

“here, we can share my lunch.” he handed half of his sandwich to you

“n-no, that’s okay!!! i’m not hungry..”

deadass rolls his eyes at you haha

“yes you are. eat it. oh, and if they ever bother you again, just let me know. i have no problem with telling them off.”

ha the way you meet kageyama is the best

it was like any other day, you had just inserted the money into the vending machine to grab yourself your daily box of milk

because you need your ~ c a l c i u m ~

however, you were not aware that this routine also belonged to another, and that other person happened to be standing right behind you, watching you purchase the last milk carton

you grabbed the milk from the vending machine and took a step to the side so that the person waiting behind you could take their turn

you noticed that the boy didn’t step closer to the vending machine but rather stayed glued to his spot

you shrugged and continued to detach the straw from the box and insert it at the top

as you were about to take your first sip, the boy spoke

“w-wait”

he was staring at you, eyes wide and meeting your confused ones

“uh, can i help you?”

“can i have that?” he was pointing at the milk carton that you held in your hand

you looked at the boy before asking him why he couldn’t just buy one himself

you even showed him the other milk cartons in the vending machine window after he tried to argue that you took the last one

“but i don’t want those ones”

“why not?”

“they... they don’t have an animal on the box…..”

you lOst it

you couldn’t breathe knowing that this tall, intimidating boy just told you that he only wanted to drink milk out of the boxes that had cartoon animals drawn on them

it was easily one of the most hilarious things you had ever experienced thus far

you decided to give him the milk that you had just purchased, not wanting the boy to have a permanent pout on his face

“okay, you can have this one. but, you have to buy me two tomorrow”

unlike the others, you actually met kenma when you guys were kids

you had just moved into a new neighborhood so your mom wanted to greet your neighbors and made you go with her

honestly, you didn’t really mind

i mean, all a seven year old wants is to make new friends, and this was a great way to do that

kenma lived in the house across from yours, which happened to be the last house you decided to visit

you were kinda bummed because the other three houses you had already went to didn’t have any kids your age; they were either too young, too old, or nonexistent

after your mom knocked on the door, a woman around the same age as your mom appeared

your eyes lit up when you noticed a boy your age sitting in front of the TV playing a video game

the lady, who you assumed was his mom, saw your bright expression and called the boy over to say hi

he slowly walked up to the three of you, his golden eyes peering through his long black hair

he stuck to his mother’s side like glue, his small hand firmly clutching the bottom of her blouse

“hi, i’m y/n! what’s your name?”

he just stared at you lmao

you were not going to give up. nope. you were gonna make a friend today if it killed you

“do you like video games? i like them too. whatcha playin?”

“dO YOU WANT TO COME IN AND PLAY WITH ME?”

to this day, this is the most emotion you have ever seen him display ha

it was like a fricken switch was flipped lol

poor boy didn’t have any friends to play video games with

so he was more than happy to invite this strange kid into his house just so he had a playmate

and ever since that day, you and kenma have been the closest of friends

you are NOT a morning person

so it’s no surprise that the first place you go in the morning is to the coffee shop down the block for your daily pick-me-up before school

you’ve had this routine for so long that all of the workers know you and have your order already made by the time you walk through the door

and likewise, you always have the exact amount of money ready to hand to one of the workers

everything was the same as all of the other days, except one thing

you had stayed up all night working on your studies and thinking about all of the problems that were occurring in your personal life wow its as if i’m writing this about myself

that said, you were 1000% more tired than you usually were

so tired that after you paid and picked up your iced coffee from the counter, you decided that it was a good idea to close your eyes for a couple of seconds while you were walking out the door

wHatS tHe wORsT tHiNg tHaT cOUld hAppEN

yeah so to your surprise, you end up running into a rather large figure

by ‘large figure’ i mean absolutely ginormous

and by ‘running into’ i mean completely knocking into them and pouring your drink all over their chest

you continuously apologized to the person in front of you, not even bothering to look up at them

but when you did, oh boy

that was one way to wake yourself up

ushijima wakatoshi stood in front of you with a blank stare on his face, his shirt soaked with coffee

if there was ever a time where you wanted to crawl into a corner and cry, this would be it

you had seen him around school and new that he was the captain of the volleyball club

you also knew how hard he can spike a volleyball and that he was notorious for being extremely intimidating

you were hoping that he wasn’t picturing your head as a volleyball

you were more than confused when he asked you if you were okay

you just stared at him like he was crazy

i just ran into you and got coffee all over your uniform but you ask me if im okay?? tf

even offers to buy you another coffee??????????

you start to believe that he wasn’t as bad or scary that people made him out to be

he’s just a giant teddy bear who wants friends uwu

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu social media #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu writers #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader

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ckret2 · 5 years

Text

Like Lover and Owner and Worshiper

anonymous asked: If you are still taking requests about Ghidorah... Can you make one where the monster is having admirer /human/ and he didn't killed her, because she is the only one who like him... Felt like I need something sweet like this :) thank you in advance :)))

So apparently read mores don’t work in asks anymore so this gets its own post! *jazz hands*

I kinda feel like u mighta wanted to ask for a reader insert but didn’t wanna say so lol; so in case u did I left the main character unnamed, so it could be anyone. (In my head it’s AU Vivienne Graham who’s really really into Ghidorah, because from now on all Sally Hawkins characters have a thing for monsters. BUT you can substitute in anyone.)

It’s slightly bittersweet—some relatively surface-level talk of going through Seasonal Affective Disorder because Antarctica, some Ghidorah being like really super absurdly lonely, some kinda obsessive levels of affection—but it’s mostly sweet.

This is gonna get proofed llllater because im tired but wanna get it out. There’s a high chance that some pronouns got messed up because nobody has names and the pronouns switch between viewpoint characters. feel free to lemme know if you spot any of those. (or any other typos. always open to typos.) but don’t feel obligated to since this ain’t proofed. EDIT: Hey this is proofed now!

###

Few people last very long at Monarch if their first instinct upon seeing a monster taller than the London Eye with claws and fangs longer than their own body isn't to whisper, "Magnificent."

"Isn't he?" Serizawa asked, beaming. "Or aren't they, perhaps I should say."

"You said there are three heads. I can only see two. Where's...?"

Serizawa pointed at each of the obvious golden blurs in turn, and then at a murky patch of ice with a spotlight trained on it. She saw nothing through it. "The ice is still too thick for us to see all three," he said. "But the scans have revealed the whole body. He has two tails, as well."

"Absolutely magnificent."

Aboveground, the only thing currently protecting the crevasse they'd dug to reach this frozen titan was a chainlink fence and two very cold guards. There were a few temporary trailers set up nearby, bright orange and flying black-and-white Monarch flags; winter was coming soon, and they'd either have to work fast to establish a base that would hold them through the winter when most other seasonal bases has shut down, or withdraw to an established base for the winter and monitor the site from a distance. Japanese Showa Station was within sight of the crevasse when the weather was clear—had been the ones to discover the titan underneath, in fact—and someone, certainly, was already working out how to arrange for Monarch to move a few operatives into their facility while navigating their strict policy of secrecy concerning titans.

But all of that coordinating wasn’t in the here and now. Here and now, there was only a golden titan, glittering faintly through the ice from the spotlights put on him, and she stared at the blur that was one of his heads in wonder. How long was it going to be until they'd carved and chipped away the ice, and she could see his scales and wings and all three serpentine necks and heads in all of their glory?

She couldn't wait.

She leaned as far as she could over the railing of the rickety scaffolding that had lowered her and Serizawa to look at the monster, and she brushed the tips of her gloved fingers against the ice.

###

They were used to being cold.

They spent most of their life cold, frozen in the heart of an asteroid they pulled around themselves like a cocoon, soaring from world to world, unconsciously aware of how gravity tugged on their body and how the shell around them changed temperature when exposed to sunlight, but not even dreaming.

It took so long to travel from world to world, longer to travel from star to star. Staring at the same pinprick of light for years without any noticeable progress toward it was enough to drive them mad, enough to make them feel like they were going blind from staring so long at the same point, enough to make their heads ring with the silence and the inability to hear their own roars, enough to make them bite and tear at their own necks just to feel something, even if they had to rip off one of their own heads in order to feel. And then they might lose sight of their star and be lost.

It was easier to sleep away the centuries.

They slept now, in the cold, still and immobile. Their unconscious mind was certain that they were sheltered in an asteroid, floating between the stars. Only a few things could wake them from a sleep like this.

One was the feeling of an impact, jolting them awake as they made planetfall. One was extreme heat, warning that they were drifting too close to a star and needed to crack free and fly to a safer distance before falling in. One was other minds, alien minds thinking and dreaming outside of their shelter.

They felt minds now.

Once upon a time, when they were new, they could tell what others were feeling. They had long lost all but a whisper of that sense. They didn't know if it was because they now moved only among alien minds too strange to comprehend, or if it was because isolation and mutation had atrophied the ability.

But when they slept between worlds, when their eyes and ears and noses and tongues were numb and their touch was muffled by the steady pressure of their frigid cocoon, they could again sense what the minds around them were feeling.

The minds they felt now weren't enough to stir them to full wakefulness. (They should have been; but they were not, as their sleeping minds assumed, in an asteroid cocoon, but something different and worse.) But the minds were enough to shake them from deep hibernation into a dazed doze, dully monitoring the small emotions floating around them.

They were the usual feelings of industrious aliens—focused and interested, occasionally fluctuating with the pleasures and sorrows and frustrations that came from the daily private dramas all thinking things had. When the aliens focused on them in their cocoon—they could always sense when someone was focused on them—they were interested, nervous, awed, wary.

Except one mind.

One mind was consistently rapturous.

Dazed and half-dreaming, the other minds were like distant starry pinpricks in infinite black space, maddeningly far away—but this one's rapture was like an approaching sun, rushing up to meet them, filling their tired body with warmth, bright and welcoming and heralding the end of a long journey.

When had their presence been welcomed with such joy? Such unrestrained bubbling glee and dizzy euphoria? They couldn't remember if they had ever been so welcome—not on any world. Paralyzing terror, helpless anger, sickening dread, those they were all used to, those they all enjoyed. Those feelings were a sort of rapture, to be sure—the sort of rapture inspired by a devil. Never had they been on the receiving end of a rapture that was like—like what, exactly? Admiration? Love? The feeling of gazing upon something divine.

It was so warm. So warm, in the cold.

###

Everyone at Monarch, of course, agreed that Monster Zero was spectacular. But she began to realize that most people meant that differently from her. Sure, everyone thought he looked cool. What wasn't to like about a three-headed golden dragon? But no one else was as... as enthralled with him as she was.

He worried them.

The first she realized how widely her opinions differed from her colleagues' was when she discussed how they were going to safely remove him from the ice, and everyone at the table looked at her in surprise. They had all taken it as a given that they'd leave him where he was—incased in ice that was shaved down enough to let them get a good look at him, but not removed, and given extra refrigeration so that their surrounding equipment and lights wouldn't cause the ice to melt further. She'd looked back at them in just as much surprise—surprise at herself for not thinking that obvious. Because of course they would leave him frozen. That was Monarch policy. Hibernating titans were left to hibernate: contained in whatever tomb they'd been found in.

That was what they had to do. They had no idea what his personality was like; they couldn't wake him. They shouldn't wake him.

Even so, the knowledge that she wouldn't get to see him fly was devastating.

Everyone else found the possibility of his flying to be somewhat alarming.

Her colleagues saw his fangs, his spined tails, his clawed feet, and saw only the damage they could do. When they mentioned how much taller he was than Godzilla, it wasn't with a sense of knee-weakening amazement at the sheer grand scale of him, but with the implication that on some level they were calculating proportionately how many more neighborhoods he'd crushed if he ever decided to go strolling in San Fransisco. When she fantasized about what he would look like flying, his wings stretched wide, his scales glinting in the sunlight, her colleagues imagined only the terrible storm his flight would summon.

Everyone had their favorite titan. Even though everyone was wary of the titans' strength and dedicated to ensuring that they never posed a threat to humanity, most of them—certainly all the scientists, the multitudes of biologists and zoologists and environmentalists—had been drawn to this line of work out of love and fascination. They all, to a greater or lesser extent, collectively adored these dangerous giants. And they all adored one or two more than the others.

Of course, they teased each other good-naturedly about their favorites. Serizawa, who refused to keep a plaque on his door listing his official position in Monarch, once showed up for his shift to find his office had a shiny new plaque reading "Godzilla Public Relations Department". Years ago, Ilene Chen had received a giant caterpillar doll for her birthday, which was later seen in possession of her sister—holding it up to the glass window in front of Mothra's egg as though she was showing it off, beaming—and later still in the possession of Dr. Russell's young daughter, who would sometimes carry it like a baby and sometimes use it in battle against her dinosaur toys.

As the most excited scientist in Antarctica, she quickly gained the nickname Fangirl Zero. Sometimes, when people inquired about her work, they'd ask how her "husbands" were doing. It was always good natured, always laughingly, and with the understanding that everyone had That One Titan and was open to ribbing for it.

Even at that, though, she was pleased that when people thought of her, they thought of Monster Zero.

###

They could track its mind. Wherever it went, wandering back and forth, they felt it. They knew where it slept, because they could sense its dreams. They knew the spot where it spent most of the day.

They knew when it thought about them. Its mind shined upon them like a flashlight, calling to them.

It was sometimes so near to them that, if they weren't in their asteroid, they could bend down and lick it. And it would stay there, near to them, for so long at a time.

When had they ever been so worshiped? Never—not in a way that was inspired by tremulous devotion rather than trembling dread. When had they ever been so adored? Never—not since they had become they, rather than one and one and one all separate, cooed over as a trio of precious clumsy newborns. When had they ever been so loved? Never, never, never.

They were graced with every point on the spectrum of unconditional glorification—the upward-gazing glorification of a worshiper to its god, the downward-gazing glorification of an owner to its beloved pet, the equal-level glorification of lover to lover. How could one mind hold so much glory inside it without exploding? The mere spillover nearly melted the cold from their limbs.

Their worshiper grew unwell from time to time. Its emotions grew tired and dull and unhappy and quiet, like a heavy weight was pushing its mood down from above. Even when it was thinking of them, its rapture didn't reach the euphoric heights it used to. Sometimes, when it was close to them, they could feel it trying to force itself to feel euphoria in their presence. It rarely worked.

Every once in a while, it would leave. If they focused hard, they could tell where it went, feel its mind curving away in a long arc as it crossed the surface of the planet. When it settled somewhere almost halfway around the world, they were seized with an unconscious grief. The only consolation was that they could tell it still thought about them. Its worship was a star twinkling far away.

It left because something had been pushing down on its mind. They wished that they could sing for it. As their ability to hear emotions had atrophied, they had instead gained the ability to speak emotions. It took them a long time to figure out the exact notes to sing in order to change a new alien's mind, to enthrall and control it, to make it feel what they wanted it to feel. But unless they reduced a world to ash faster than they could puzzle out the native minds, they always did figure it out. They didn't want to control this mind, though. They didn't need to. They only wanted to turn the coffin lid pressing down on its emotions into a vaulted ceiling again. Maybe it wouldn't have had to leave, if they could have sang for it.

But after a while, it came back to them, happier again.

And so they didn't fear the next time it left.

###

During her lunch breaks and when she was off-duty, she would frequently bundle up and sit in a folding chair near his ice, gazing up at him, studying his faces, wings, scales. She'd sometimes bring books and read to him—if anyone gave her a quizzical look, she'd laugh and say she couldn't help but think he must be lonely in the ice. Oftentimes they were myths about dragons, hydras, and serpents, often sent to her by Dr. Chen as she tried to find more historical sightings of Monster Zero. She'd read him a story and then ask him whether it was true, false, or about a different titan entirely. She'd tell him about paintings they found that seemed to depict him fighting against Godzilla, and ask whether that was him or just another titan that looked like him, and what his relationship with Godzilla had been like. Of course he didn't answer. That was fine. She felt like, somehow, he knew she was there.

Nothing made her happier than working in the same facility as Monster Zero.

It made her almost as happy as Antarctica made her unhappy.

Sunlight was indirect and at times of the year sparse. Even in the summer, the temperature barely ever rose to zero. And except for a few quick, frigid walks she sometimes made herself take for her own mental health, she got very little of what sunlight was available. Almost all of her time was spent in Outpost 32, deep in ice. Even when she slept in her heated room under her many blankets, she could still feel the distant chill pressing in on her bubble of warmth, looking for a way to make her cold.

Most Monarch staff had their permanent assignments somewhere farther north, cycling through Antarctica for a shift of one or two months roughly every couple of years. Nobody wanted to be in the frozen, barren, dark tundra; nobody wanted to share a tomb with the devil with three heads. She was the only one who requested the position, insisted that she be permanently stationed in Antarctica. Because of that, she quickly became the most important person at the outpost: the expert not only on Monster Zero, but also in getting the satellite Internet to work again, in repairing the constantly malfunctioning coffee machine, in finding where the spare bulbs were kept, in coping with the soul-sucking isolation and inhospitable climate at the bottom of the world. She was officially put in charge of the outpost before the construction was finished. Time and again, her colleagues told her that she was invaluable.

But they also told her that they were worried. She understood. She didn't want to—for a while, she resisted it—but she did. Antarctica sucked the light from her mind as easily as the warmth from her bones. She grew tired, sullen, listless, irritable. The base was full of sun lamps, and she was shipped one antidepressant after another to try, but none of them fully mitigated the effects of being trapped underground and surrounded by ice. She couldn't stay there permanently. So for three months of the year, from July through September, when Antarctica was its darkest and coldest, she transferred to a post in the northern hemisphere.

And so, she became a reverse Persephone: every winter, she left behind hell and its king, to return eagerly in the spring.

###

They woke as their asteroid shuddered, cracked, and crashed apart.

Waking was a sluggish process. It took them a long time to remember where they were and what had happened: they hadn't been in space, drifting between planets. They had been trapped underground. They had been thrashed and defeated and discarded. They had been left broken in the frigid slurry of their melted battlefield, too weak to move and sinking. The water had come up around them and froze.

They hadn't finished with this planet.

They would now.

It was good that there were so many little creatures scurrying around under their feet. The creatures made excellent target practice to resharpen their senses, and the guns pinging pellets off their scales helped to wake them up. They hadn't recalled that any creatures on this world had guns. How long had they slept?

Not long enough for the little king to die out. Unfortunate. Excellent.

They were awake now—awake and alive and freezing and furious and ecstatic.

But through the swirling wind and ice shards and shrapnel, through the screaming and shooting and dying vermin, through the darkness and the flashing yellow and blue light, through the electric life crackling up their throats—they felt a point of light piercing their minds like it was the only light in the universe.

The little king had fallen—dropped into the pit he had frozen them in—they wouldn't have to worry about him for a moment. They broke off their search, twisting around, scanning in separate directions for the light.

There, far below, a dark speck on the white ice: one of the vermin fleeing for their lives. There was their worshiper. They had spent so much time unconsciously following its mind around that, even awake, with their empathic sense muffled, they could still dully register its emotions. They had never felt it fear them before. But even so, they could still feel its awe piercing through the fear, in breathless fluttering bursts. Were they everything it had ever hoped for?

They bent down, all together, wings spread wide for balance, studying the vermin up close from three angles. It stopped running and turned to face them, even when the other vermin looked back at it and started shouting.

Within its gaze, they glowed. Yes, they were everything it had dreamed of and more.

It raised a hand, reaching for the middle of them, and they jerked back. No, that wouldn't do. Electricity crackled across the surface of their scales; at times, they had amused themselves by finding vermin hardly larger than their worshiper and brushing lightly against them to watch them sizzle and fry. They did not want their lone worshiper to end that way.

They would give it a different gift. They had wanted to sing for it for a long time.

They reared back, stood straight, and let out a single, high, trilling trichord. It wasn't as loud as they could sing—but they didn't need the whole planet to hear them.

It clapped its hands over the sides of its head, as did most of the other vermin; but they could feel as its mind lifted, floating, filled with light. And may whatever had weighed it down never do so again.

They could hear the little king stirring. If they fought here, their worshiper might be crushed. They gave it one last look—they might never see it again, and a million worlds from now they would want to remember what it had looked like—and then they turned and took off. They flew over the pit the little king was still trying to claw out of, whipped his face with the spines of one tail to knock him off balance, and soared past him as he fell again, daring him to pursue them—away from the vermin on the ice.

They could still feel their worshiper's love.

###

She could never have imagined how much more beautiful Monster Zero would be as a living creature, moving and tensing and flexing, glowing in the dull light, crackling with lightning. All the simulations and theorizations Monarch made about how he would behave, all their CGI models predicting how he would move, all the scans and samples they used to guess at his biology and abilities, and still he was so much more than they ever came close to predicting.

He was as awesome and terrible as she’d always hoped and feared.

And he had stopped to bend down and look at her. Only her. Did he know her? Had he heard her in his sleep? She could barely hear her colleagues telling her to run as she reached a hand for him.

With the sound of his roar, her ears rang and her bones vibrated, and she felt static in her lungs. A moment ago she'd thought Monster Zero was going to be the death of her—and if she had to choose how she'd die, she would choose no other way, even if she would prefer it wait a few more decades—but at his roar she knew it was not possible that he would hurt her. Euphoria poured into her mind like sunlight, like ambrosia overfilling a cup, and her soul sang with lightning. For a moment, she couldn't see, she couldn't feel, she couldn't breathe. She didn't need to breathe. Everything was dust and glitter and enlightenment.

The echoes of his roar faded, and she felt herself settle back on the Earth; but something had opened up in her. She felt lighter than she'd been in years.

Her knees gave out, and she sank gracelessly to the ice, watching the way its necks and tails rippled each time it beat its wings.

Someone said, "Wow. Wow. Did the rest of you feel that?" Someone else said, "Did we know he could do that? That's new, right? We didn't know about that."

Her heart pounding like it was trying to break free of her ribs, she watched him until he disappeared over the horizon.

###

Comments/reblogs are welcome! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of Ghidorah-centric and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.

#ghidorah #king ghidorah #godzilla #spoilers #kotm #fanfic #my writing #anonymous #ask

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descendantofthesparrow · 5 years

Text

Part of your world – Harry Hook x Reader- Part 7- Savior part 2

a rewrite of @blackplaidcalum x reader that they wrote for me

summary: a who doesn’t love the Disney World, well, (y/n) especially loves descendants, and one day, as she dances in her kitchen getting ready to head out. 17-year-old (y/n) becomes part of that world, now a certain blue-eyed pirate meets the girl from a world where he is a fictional character and he has an actor named Thomas Doherty.

warning: mention and the act of rape included in this part

Key:

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

h/l- hair length

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

your stuff

Hook sat in his office admiring his new collection of rum, given to him by (insert bitchy name here), he didn’t have enough money to give the woman, but she was ecstatic to accept his son at payment, as many others did when Hook either didn’t have money or just didn’t feel like spending it.

So, Hook sat oblivious to the traumatic horror he was putting his only son through. Harriet and the daughter of the sea witch tried to put a stop to the basically prostitution of harry, but they failed, only resulting in Hook letting his crew give in to their desires of his son.

Smee walked in, wringing his red worn cap in his hands as he always did when he was nervous or scared. Hook raised an eyebrow and motioned for his first mate to take a seat and offered him some of his new rum. Smee shook his head, he didn’t want the rum acquired from Harry's misfortune. The poor boy, Smee only hoped that the (h/c) girl had saved the boy he thought of as a son.

“isn’t it a fine night Mr. Smee~”

Smee only meekly nodded, he didn’t think so, Harry was sold once more, and he didn’t even know if the girl had managed to save him or not.

“new rum and the boy has served his purpose once more HA!”

Smee gritted his teeth, only a degrading sentence away from quitting as the first mate and leaving.

“and to think I thought that the boy wouldn’t amount to anything~! He makes a damn good payment if I do-“

The cabin door slammed open, revealing a bleeding crew member, Hook and Smee stood to their feet, hearing the sounds of swords clashing and screams.

“what the bloody hell is going on!”

“c-captain!” the crew member panted “some-someone’s on deck kill- gnh ack” blood spilled to the floor, a sword sticking out of the man's chest, he fell to the floor. And there you were, blood splattered on your body and sword. Dripping to the floor.

“hello Hook” you spoke in a deadly voice, stepping over the body and shoving it out of the way, closing the cabin door.

“who-“ Hook sputtered “who the fuck are you! What are you doing on my ship!”

“I’m here” you snarled, “to have a talk”

Hook rolled his eyes, you were trying to scare him, it wasn’t working

“Alright then, speak wench”

You lifted your sword, aiming it at him, “you sold harry.”

Hook groaned and rubbed his face, great another one, just like Harriet and Uma, this bitch was trying to stop the selling of the boy.

“why do you care, he is nothing but a pay-“

“Harry is a fucking human being, and your son!” you snarled at him, now thinking that Hook didn’t deserve death, but something much worse.

“Alright then if you want me to stop, we shall duel” hook drew his sword in a flourish and grinned sadistically at you “to the death!” just as he was about to charge. You stopped him.

“no!” Hook stopped confused “to the pain”

He furrowed his brows “ I don’t think I’m familiar with that phrase”

“I'll explain, and I’ll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced Buffon.”

Hooks face showed surprise and disgust “I think that is the first time anyone dared insult me”

“and it won't be the last!” you smirked, speaking in a deadly calm voice “to the pain means the first thing you lose will be your feet below the ankles, then your other hand at the wrist, next your nose”

“and then my tongue I suppose, I've allowed this to go on for too lon-“

“I wasn’t finished!” you interrupted him, smirking, still a calm deadly voice. “ the next thing you lose will be your left eye followed by your right”

Hook rolled his eyes sighing exasperatingly “and then my ears let’s get on with it!”

“Wrong! Your ears you keep, and I'll tell you why.” You smirk became sadistic and a shiver ran down hooks spine “so that every shriek of every child of seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish, every babe that weeps at your approach every woman who cries out “dear god what is that thing!” will echo in your ears.” Hook stared at you in fear “ that. Is what to the pain means, it means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever.”

Hook and Smee stared at you before Hook stupidly opened his mouth to speak, “ I think you’re bluffing”

“its possible pig. I might be bluffing” you stared him down with a deadly calm gaze “ it's conceivable you miserable vomitous mass, im only standing here because you lack the courage to step forward”

Hooks face burned at the implication and rushed forward swinging his hook at you, and with a flourish of your sword, you cut off his forearm, Hook screaming in pain.

“AHHHHHH YOU BITC-“you pointed your sword at his neck.

“drop

Your

Sword”

Hook shakily dropped it and you motioned him to his chair “have a seat~” he quickly stood and sat in his chair. You motioned to Smee and said, “Tie him up.” Smee quickly followed your orders and tied his soon to be ex-captain up.

“make it as tight as you’d like”

Smee finished and looked at you, you gestured to the door.” Now leave, go see Harry, he's on the revenge”

Smee nodded and whispered a thank you, before scurrying off.

You closed the door after him, turning back to hook, he shivered under your gaze, “what-“ he squeaked “what are you going to do!”

You smirked and raised your sword

“to the pain”

“AHHHHHHHHHHHH”

---

Uma paced the deck, Smee had arrived about an hour ago, and you had left an hour and a half, and from what Smee told her, you had taken down almost the entire crew, leaving one survivor, the cabin boy, and had cut off hooks left forearm.

Uma had to admit, she was impressed. But also extremely worried, she knew of Harrys growing crush on you, which she had noticed started just a little bit after you had stolen the trophy, and if you didn’t come back, Uma didn’t want to think of what Harry would do.

But her worries were erased when you turned the corner and walked the gangplank. She rushed forward but stopped when she saw the blood coating you, Hooks hook gripped in your left hand, face softening when you saw Uma

“hey”

“uuhh” Uma droned “hey, soooo” she gestured to you “you have fun”

You shrugged and walked to the shared room, when you entered you saw Harry talking to Smee, wearing a baggy sweater and pants, blanket curled around his shoulders, sitting on the edge of the bed, he saw you and gasped your name

“(y/n)” you smiled at him and grabbed your clothes and walked into the bathroom, “I gotta get this blood off, be out soon”

Harry frowned and turned to Uma and Smee, “wha’ is she talking about’ ?” Uma shuffled in place, Smee wringing his cap.

“wha’ happen’ ? wha’ (y/n) do?”

“she uh” Smee mumbled, “she uh, your father is”

“she fucking messed your father up” Harry's jaw dropped, and he harshly swallowed and shakily asked “wha’ she do?”

Smee and Uma shrugged, Harry understood, they wanted (y/n) herself to tell Harry what happened.

Smee patted Harry's shoulder and exited the room, Uma following him. Harry sat in the room, the sound of the shower echoing through the room.

‘she’ Harry thought ‘went after my dad?’ Harry buried his face in his hands ‘for me’ tears burned at Harrys eyes ‘why?’

The door opened and you stepped out, clean and free of blood, hair damp, trying your best to dry it with a towel.

You saw Harry sitting on the bed and you walked over to him and stood in front of him.

“Harry?” He stopped shaking and looked up at you through his lashes. “are you okay?” Harry sat up a little, allowing you more room to get closer to him, standing between his legs.

“why?” you tilted your head, raising your eyebrow “why did ye go after me da?”

You sighed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him into a hug, his arms going around your waist.

“I did it because I care about you, and he needed to learn a lesson”

“wha’ did ye do to him’?”

You blew your hair out of your face, “I cut off all his limbs and left him to suffer”

Harry's jaw dropped and you shrugged and poked his nose, he made a face and wiggled his nose, you giggled and Harry rolled his eyes and laid his head on your chest. You softly smiled and scratched his scalp.

He sniffed and rubbed his face on your chest, making you blush. He lifted his face, meeting your eyes, your faces only a couple of inches from each other, your breaths mingling, Harry glanced at your lips biting his own, you pursed your lips and leaned forward, Harry’s eyes fluttered slightly, you kissed his forehead (making Harry a little disappointed) and whispered.

“I swear to Calypso that I will protect you from now on”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, Harry let out a harsh breath, and you both stayed there for a few more minutes, feeling comfort in the others embrace.

Later that night, Harry and you slept in the bed, luckily it was large enough for both of you to have a side, and as Harry laid there, staring at your serene face, he realized something

…

He was falling for you.

…

And fast

--end of part 7--

comment or message me for part 8

taglist:

@namelesslosers (he does deserve the world, and im gonna give it to him in this fic and the next.👍👍)

Imma also tag @crazybutconfidentaf because I wanted you to know you get to cackle in revenge against Hook. 😜

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harryhook #harry hook x reader #harry hook descendants #harry hook imagine #captain hook #reader is a badass #and took notes from princess bride

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cmncisspnandmore · 5 years

Text

Don’t let me go, Part 2

AN: Here it is you lovely people. Part 2, i have added anyone that wanted to be tagged to the taglist. It is still open! My requests are also still open :) i hope you enjoy this. Also the experiences the reader has with her Disorder are taken from my own personal struggle with it. It is not like this for everyone. But if you or someone you know is struggling with an ED, please seek help. Im always here to talk if need be. Enjoy my pretties. <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader Warnings: Anorexia, eating disorders, depression, drug use, mentions of past character death, extreme fluff? is that a warning?

~~~~~~

“Officer Porter, this is Agent Y/L/N, and Dr. Reid, they are here to help you go over some of the evidence from the crime scene. Get a fresh look at the photographs and try to get a sense of who the Unsub is.” Hotchner gestured to you and Reid, and the officer nodded.

“Anything you need let me know, my team is at your disposal.” Officer Porter smiled and his gaze on you lingered a few minutes and you shifted uncomfortably. Hotch walked over to where the rest of the team was gathered and started to give them instructions on where to go and who they needed to talk to.

“Lets go sit and look at the photos,” Reid placed a hand on the small of your back and guided you to the small room that they had set up the board in. You and Reid took a seat at the small table, and Reid started to flip through the photos.

“This crime looks organized, it’s well thought out and the single bullet wound shows that the Unsub was confident that this wound would kill the victim. Also notice how the Victims hands are folded across their stomachs, and they are placed almost burial style on the floor. The unsub doing this, symbolises that he had remorse.” Reid slides the photo across the table to you, you shake your head and stare at the photo for a second.

“Yeah.. I agree. What else do you think?” You ask leaning back in the chair, the pictures making your empty stomach flip.

You zone out after Reid starts to ramble off about psychopaths and sociopaths, you can’t keep up with him, and you have a feeling that maybe you’re letting this go a little too far. But nonetheless, you had to be skinny and perfect. If you weren't then there was no point in even trying. You needed to be the one to make men stop talking when you walked in the room, you needed to be the girl people envied. And the only way to do that was to be thin. Thin. Light. Airy. Perfect. You needed collarbones that stuck out, and you had to be able to see your hip bones when you stood not just when you laid down. Your legs wouldn't brush and your stomach needed to be flat. Your wrists so small and dainty that jewelry would almost slide off your wrist.

It wasn't until something fell in the other room that scared you so much that you jumped up out of the chair and your vision got very spotty, and you started to sway. Reid jumped up from his chair and grabbed your arm, he grabs your arm firmly.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer looks down at you as you grasp his arm and close your eyes for a moment.

“I..I’m alright, i just got startled.” You nod and after a moment look up at Spencer who is giving you a hard look. He grabs your other arm, pulling you upright, so your body was facing him and he leans down to your height.

“Promise me.” His brown eyes burn into your Y/E/C, and you bite your bottom lip nervously. You really didn't want to lie to him anymore.

“Yeah i just stood up to quickly, I just need a moment and maybe some water.” You smile, even though you didn't want to be sneaky, your goal weight was just in reach. You had to reach it, it was the only thing you could think about.

“Let me go get you something, sit down.” Spencer stood up and walked into the break room of the dingy police station. He walks over to the water dispenser and takes a small paper cup from the stack that rests against it. He leans down and presses the tap for the cold water and lets the cup fill. He places the cup down on the counter and out of the corner of his eye he sees a vending machine, sitting dutifully in the back of the room. A row of granola bars sitting on the top row, walking over to it he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, and inserts a dollar into the machine. He punches in the number for a chocolate chip granola bar, and waits for it to fall into the bottom.

The granola bar falls into the bottom of the machine and he reaches in, grabbing the bar and then grabs the cup of water on his way out. Heading back into the room where you were sitting with your head on your hands, your hair falling forward shadowing your face.

“Here, you should eat something.” Spencer hands you the cup of water and the granola bar, you lift your head and take it from him.

“Thank you Spencey.”

“You’re welcome, are you sure you’re okay to continue this case? I can finish going over this stuff if you want to head back to your hotel room, I can drive you, contrary to the rest of the teams belief i actually do have my drivers license.” Reid furrows his brows and looks at you, studying you for a moment.

“I, i think i might be coming down with something.” You take a sip of the water and stare at the granola bar there was 100 calories in that granola bar, there was no way it was going to get past your lips. You would have to get rid of it when Reid wasn't looking, unwrap it and throw away the actual food, leave the wrapper somewhere that he would see it so he would think that you ate it.

“Let me call Hotch and let him know i'm going to drive you to the Hotel.” Reid pulls his phone out of his pocket and walks out of the room. Making sure to close the door behind him and face away from the window so you couldn't read his lips on what he was saying.

“Hotch.”

“It’s Reid, I need to drive Y/N, to the hotel, she's not feeling well.”

“Reid, you sound worried, is everything okay?”

“No, I think Y/N is in trouble. I don't want to concern you at the moment until i know for sure i will get the findings about the Unsub, and the crime scene photos from the hotel room. I'm gonna stay with her and make sure she’s okay.”

“Reid, if this is something serious you need to tell me.”

“I know, Hotch, i know. But if i confront her right now, it could make this whole thing a lot worse. Please you need to trust me.” Reid spoke into his phone, closing his eyes leaning back against the concrete wall.

“Alright, I trust you.” And with that Hotch hung up the phone.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair waiting for Spencer to get back, you had tossed the granola bar in the small trash bin in the room while he was outside the door talking to Hotchner. You placed the ripped silver foil wrapper on the table in front of you and pick up one of the photos from the crime scene, it wasn't a gruesome picture or anything, all it was, was the victim's family portrait, the unsub had turned it around, almost like they didn't want the children in the picture to witness what happened to their mom. All the pictures in the crime scene had been turned around, excluding the ones that didn't have the children present in them.

“Y/N, let’s go.” Reid opened the door and you placed the photo down on the table, nodding once.

You stand up and Spencer is immediately at your side, offering a steadying hand. You smile at him, as he leads you out to the black SUV that is waiting. He helps you into the passenger seat and then closes the door for you. You rest your head on the side of the car, your eyes heavy with exhaustion even though you slept 4 out of the 5 hour flight. You planned on breaking your fast at 48 hours, if you could make it to 48 hours you would then allow yourself to eat a small meal with Spencer at breakfast tomorrow. Maybe you could play this off as a bad cold or even a virus. You just had to fool the genius for another 16 hours. As Spencer pulled away from the curb onto the road towards the hotel that the director had booked for the team while they helped solve the murders.

“I told Hotch i would stay with you until you got situated. He said it was fine, and that they would call if they needed us. But i left him everything we figured out about the Unsub.” Spencer hit the directional and switched lanes. His brown eyes glancing over at you for a second.

“Mmmm,” You hummed out, closing your eyes, “He doesn't want kids to see…” You mumbled out and Spencer glanced over again.

“What?”

“The Unsub, when you were talking to Hotch, I was looking at the pictures. He turned every picture in both houses around away from the murder scene, if the kids were in the picture he didn't want them to see.” You lifted your head and looked over at Spencer, eyes half hooded, and your head pounded.

“I’ll send a text to Hotch, when we get checked in.” Spencer put on the directional again and pulled into the Hotel parking lot. He pulled into a parking spot, and hopped out of the car. Walking over to your side, he pulled your door open and you sleepily unclicked your seatbelt, and slid off the seat. Once again Reid wrapped his arm around your waist and he guided you gently to the main lobby. You learnt into his side, taking comfort in the warm soft fabric of his cardigan. The smell of spice and wood along with the faint smell of old books, lingered on his cardigan.

Reid stops in front of the front desk, and young woman behind the desk smiles.

“Hi, how may i help you?”

“My name is Dr. Spencer Reid, i'm from the FBI, my team has booked rooms here for our stay. This is Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N, if we could have her room number and key card i would greatly appreciate it.” Reid runs his hand up and down your back lightly. The woman behind the desk nods and reaches under the desk, producing two key cards and slides them across the counter to Spencer.

“Thank you.” He grabs the cards and tucks one into his own pocket and turn to you and hands you the other.

“Room number 537,” She smiles to Reid and then glances over to you, “Your room is 539, they’re adjoining rooms, they share a doorway that can be locked on either side.” You nod and Spencer thanks her before guiding you to the elevator and pressing floor number 5.

Spencer takes the key card from your hand and you both walk to the door of your room. He unlocks your door and hold it open for you, you slip by him and into the room.

“Thank you, Spence, for helping me get back. I don't feel very well. I think i'm going to take a shower and then lay down.” You smile and head for the small bathroom off to the side of the room. The room wasn't huge but it fit a queen size bed, a dresser, and a tv, along with a mini fridge and a few small tables with chairs.

“Sure, no problem, i’ll get your bags from the car.” Spencer smiles and walks to the door closing it on his way out.

You start the shower and wait for the room to steam up before, stripping out of your warm clothes and step into the shower, you shiver violently until the water becomes scorching hot, and you close your eyes and lean your head back letting the hot water wash over you. You don't hear the door to the hotel room open again and you don't hear Spencer sit down on the bed, but you sink down to the bottom of the shower. Resting your head against your knees and the hot water making you more lightheaded than you already were. Your head still throbbed from lack of nutrition, and your stomach rumbled loudly. You rest your head back on the wall of the shower and you struggle to stay awake. All you want to do it sleep. You felt like a car running on an empty tank. You close your eyes and let the hot water lull you to sleep.

Spencer waited exactly 15 minutes before decided on checking on you. Whenever you stayed at his house your average shower took 10 minutes and you had been in the hotel shower for almost double that. It worried him and when he knocked on the bathroom door asking if your alright and got no answer. He panicked, he pushed the bathroom door open and through the thick clouds of steam grabbed af ew towels and called your name again.

When he still got no reply he stuck his hand in the shower and turned the water off, then he pulled back the curtain, and gasped at the sight of you. You were sitting back against the shower wall, your body pale and your skin looked pulled taut over your bones. Your collar bones, ribs and hips clearly visible. You looked like a skeleton, you must've been at least 15 pounds underweight, for a girl your height and build. Your hair looked limp and your eyes sunken, your cheek bones protrude. And without a second thought Spencer reached down into the tub and grabbed ou. Wrapping a towel around you as tears clouded his vision, you were far too light.

“Y/N, wake up.” He shook your shoulder and you stirred, and reared back at his touch. Your hands flew to the towel and you tried to cover your body the best you could.

“Y/N, what have you done to yourself.” Spencer whispered as tears slipped from his eyes down his face.

You swallowed thickly, “I just want to be good enough…. Pretty enough… for you..”

~~~~

Tag list

Criminal Minds: @morcialovechild @banananna99 @cynbx

Dont let me go: @itshaleighyo7 @galaxygallade @drw0301bieber @multifandom-ramblings

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musashi · 5 years

Note

what's a basic outline for the Ultimate sickfic, for you? what are your favorite details etc in a sickfic, how long do you like them to be, how do you like the endings to go..

i’m putting this under a cut because for some reason i still have shame about this narrative kink skfjghsdf. this post will probably be long but i love this question. oh my god

so, i generally will read Any Sickfic and i can’t stress enough how low my standards are. i’ve read for fandoms i know nothing and will never know anything about. i really really really mean this. but you’re asking me what Perfection to me will look like, so i am going to sound way pickier and high standards than i actually am. okay.

first thing’s first, i have some sickfic rules/dealbreakers:

i don’t give a single shit about a high-stakes, life threatening illness. there is a Whump Threshold and when it reaches a certain point it stops being fun for me. if anyone’s life is seriously in danger it stops being fun. the more mild but long-lasting the inconvenience, the better.

generally, with rare exceptions, i like my illnesses to be natural. it’s fine if it’s something unnatural that presents itself as more common/real world symptoms, but i’ll still like it less. a poisoning probably isn’t gonna be very Fun for me, but if u like, throw a fever on top of it i’m game.

i don’t like puke. i’ll read it if im desperate but it’s not my jam. being an emetophobe and someone who’s into sickfic, this is a very difficult conundrum xD

no hurt w/o comfort. i don’t just wanna read abt someone being alone and miserable cause it contradicts all the psychological bullshit reasons why i’m into this. someone needs to swoop in and take care of the poor bb whether they want it or not.

the perfect sickie for me is a character who is headstrong to an absolute fault. getting them to admit they might be under the weather is enough of a hassle in itself, let alone making them take it easy. it’s fine if they’re a dude, that’s usually what i have to deal with given that the whump community is all girls who are more into guys. but, like, if it were up to me, it’d always be a girl. girls r cute and i want to take care of them, let me self insert, damnit.

i like my sickies to have Tells. i like their friends to notice that they’re going to bed an hour early, or that their voice sounds off, or that they’re chilly when normally the cold doesn’t phase them. having an eagle-eyed companion or two nearby makes the headstrong sickie in denial all the much more Intent To Fight. the more they fight, the more stress they put themselves under, the harder they fall, the better the care they receive is.

i like a slow progression of symptoms. i like a fic that starts with what is probably the point where they contracted whatever fuckshit, and gradually passes time as they get worse and worse for wear. obviously, i like a LONG sickfic, because i’m kinda insatiable. no matter how long one is, i always find myself disappointed when its over. every sickfic i’ve ever bookmarked, i’ve read tons and TONS of times, because i literally cannot get enough.

i like sickies being forced, either by themselves or their circumstances, to fight through their pain, and i especially like it when they collapse midway or directly after lmao. my favourite flavour of this is them having to do anything in the pouring rain. getting sick FROM the rain is a big trope i like, but already being sick and getting worse in the rain is even fucking better.

i like headstrong sickies being angrily chided by their caretakers, who are really just worried to tears over them and having trouble coping. i like a little snark and bite to go on between the two of them, both irritated at the other but still intent to stick together.

the snifflier the sickie the better. that’s my fave symptom. it’s cute. fevers r good too cause shivering is cute. bundle the poor bb. feed them soup. real tender shit.

and i looooooove me some contagion lmao. the caretaker getting sick themselves either mid-way through or once the sickie has recovered? MUAH. CHEF KISS. i love when fics end on that, but what i love even more is when the author writes a surprise sequel and it’s ANOTHER SICKFIC WITH ROLES REVERSED. god, that’s so good. lord.

if you ever wonder why nearly every single sickfic i’ve ever written is about team rocket its because you can flawlessly slap ALL these tropes on a fic with them and it’s 100% ic. i definitely definitely deeefinitely know what i want xD

#sickfic shit #whump tag #wendy rambles #Anonymous #wendy answers #if anyone ever wants to make me a present here's all the material youll ever need

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spotlightsaga · 7 years

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Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews... F is For Family (S02E04) Night Shift Airdate: May 30, 2017 @Netflix @GaumontTV Ratings: Privatized @BillBurr @mikepriceinla Score: 8.75/10 @FYeahBill @FIFFNetflix TVTime/FB/Twitter/IG/Tumblr/Path/Pin: @SpotlightSaga **********SPOILERS BELOW********** 'Is my house clean?' No seriously, I'm gonna look up and you take a look in. I need to know... Can't go trouncing about town, especially the notorious 'Cocaine Cowboy City' of Miami with powder around the edges of my nostrils. I wouldn't think anyone, in any decade of existence, would want an onlooker seeing them trading coke for anything right out in the open... Whether that's in a record store, yes they still exist & I'm sure they would love a visit, or a street corner... I'd suggest visiting the record store over the street corner. Just as walking, talking, 'Teenage Turmoil', 'Trepidation Tornado' (Yeah, I'm also a sucker for wordplay), Kevin Murphy (Justin Long) is looking to make it big in what he sees as almost a dream world of sorts as a bonafide rockstar, he spots his well connected, high rolling neighbor, who is very much a part of that dream world, bribing an aggressively apprehensive DJ to play a pop record with a picture of a 'Teen Heartthrob' holding an adorable puppy on the front... But hey this is where they are in their lives. Pretty sure I've been lower. Vic (Sam Rockwell), along with the rest of the cast, has so much more room to breathe now that the series has been extended from 6-Episodes to the nicely rounded off number of 10 entries for S2. However, this means that Vic can no longer simply be that hurricane of a character, representing the perfect storm of carefree 1970's hedonism and indulgence. Suddenly, there are consequences for his actions and we are peaking into a long, dark tunnel where Vic is on the verge of an 'existential crisis'. No, there are no immediate repercussions for any of Vic's self destructive behaviors quite yet anyway, but the forlorn fates are written all over his face. Right now he's much closer to what we would refer to the point of 'existential dread' than we would call a full blown 'existential crisis'. The writers are smart though, they're giving you a peak of his cards without letting you see his full hand and that will surely create a helluva payoff when it it's finally time to pay the piper. That's a stark difference from a character that was once a quick, in & out, 2-D slice of animated comic relief. When it comes to television, cinema, film, real life, whatever... 'Existential' and 'Crisis' are literally my two favorite words in the English language, not only because they are so beautiful when paired together, but more so the fact that it's one thing Im actually good at. I know that's a really weird thing to be proud of, excited to dive into, or even claim to be 'good at'... But with all the LSD & DMT I've consumed in my life, I believe I've had more self-induced existential crisis and egodeath(s) than most of the worlds population. It's not just hallucinogenics and weird dissociatives, or even a finely tuned education in psychology & sociology that have made me an expert and lover of all things 'existential', it's also real life experience in all things crisis... Inner, outer, dramatic, and otherwise... I've always been dramatic, I got it from my mother, and her adoptive Mother... They are whatever is slightly above the 'every southern woman' version of Bette Davis & Joan Crawford. Everything is a spectacle, darling. Anxiety attacks are full on broadway performances, complete with Tony Awards, a nice Southern 'Wink', and a long list of 'Thank You's at the end... Oh and trips to the mall that start out sweet & fruitful and end in sheer terror. My Step-Father is more like the American Cherokee version of a cross between Tim Allen & Jim Gaffigan, if that makes sense. He has a traditional, signature style of humor that is both clean & observational and masculine & sometimes surprisingly crass, mainly due to his dual nature and long hard road from the cesspool of a nasty rock bottom to the heights of being a pillar of his community. There was a time in my life where these attributes all made me angry, just like Kevin. At that rebellious teenage age, if someone says go, you stop and if they say stop, you go. If a parental figure or an adult influence that we look up to makes a mistake, as a young adult many times we hold them to it unfairly... As if they're supposed to be perfect because they are the adult. As kids, we want to meet them halfway with unrealistic expectations. Essentially that's because adults meet their children and particularly teenagers with unrealistic expectations, themselves. Can't expect a toddler not to touch a hot stove, can't expect a little kid not to pick their nose (or worse), can't expect a teenager not to do usual teenager stuff, and we can't expect our parents to always remember all of that in times of stress. Looking back now (and let's hope Kevin moves forward to this place soon), I know that I learned the most from watching my parents make mistakes and subsequently finding a way to fix it, by any means necessary. Kevin is already sick over his issues with his dad, so he's practically ready to give up when he sees Vic forking over line after line until DJ Howlin' Hank (Josh Adam Meyers) would say he loves any record Vic gave him to play (yes, that includes records with vinyl covers that feature kids holding puppies that look like they "fell out of Donnie Osmond's pussy"). When one reaches the epiphany that hard work, talent, and actually being cool isn't what gets them to top, a breakdown of some sort is to be expected. Personally I've had this specific epiphany more than once (complete with influential dramatic Hollywood Breakdown), so a nice soul searching, ego shattering session of smoking weed (or simply insert alternative mind expansion drug here) his friends refer to as 'Oregon Gold dipped in Columbia River Salmon Piss' out of a baby doll made into a pipe is just what Kevin needs to push him to a point where he's ready to face this new, harsher, cruel world to get their band's ultimate goal achieved... Being played on the radio, preferably by DJ Howlin' Hank... Because, you know, at least they are 100% sure what it takes to make 'Hank Howl' (thanks, Vic)! So off the clueless teenage trio goes to score some blow. This should be good. Kevin has currently written off his father, Frank (Bill Burr), for his inability to accept a certain kind of defeat... Or better yet, I should say... Face his humility for a greater good and 'bite the bullet' at the unemployment office. He sees his father's stubborn pride as a weakness, when really like any human attribute, it's technically both a positive and a negative. The fact that Frank is lying to Sue (Laura Dern) about it, makes it all 100x worse, though... Creating a mountain blocking any possible view to see the silver lining. Frank taking a humiliating, lower paid job, just to avoid a handout is silly and ultimately a bit insane, but at least Frank is trying to do something instead of curling up into a corner & folding. Still, the whole ironic arrangement is not lost on us. Don't think for a moment that we won't be on the lookout for bumper stickers being sold at 'Hot Topic or 'Urban Outfitters' that say "Ask me about my Loser Husband's shit job!" Frank's insecurities and paranoia are officially at an all time high. His new boss Smoky (Michael Kenneth Williams) shows Frank the restrictive ropes of the world of vending machines, its many perks, and how to "Shove it. Slam it. Twist the lock. Stick the key inside your sock." Why can't the key just be on the key ring? Simple. "Because the rhyme came first, system came later." Frank is killing it, but an accident with the lock on the back door (see how important those rhymes are), ends up with the bag of change they've been collecting falling out of the back of the truck and finding it's way all over the dirty urban street. Frank goes into survival mode, scouring the street like a hardworking crackhead to recover the change. As this is happening, Kevin is out looking to score $10 worth of coke in the same seedy downtown neighborhood. Last time I checked $10 won't get you a bag of coke, and I live in a city where cocaine is easier to get than the attention of a bartender, and cheaper to get than a simple single liquor cocktail. These three young clowns mistake a pimp for a drug dealer and one of the funniest scenes of the series commences when the 'white' they are all so ready to score turns out to be an obese, Caucasian, $10 prostitute that has difficulties keeping one of her titties inside of her blouse. As the trio scrambles to escape the low rent hooker who offers to 'fuck them all if they have a sandwich bag', they end up passing Frank digging for nickels on the side of the street. Ok, ok... This is obviously the worst possible scenario for Kevin, but his frustrations lead him to march into the radio station with his band's demo tape in hand, demanding to be heard. Fuck the system, right? Everything might be going to shit for the characters in the Netflix Original 'F is For Family', but when you are down on your luck and you don't even know why you're stuck in a meaningless, chaotic existence... Suddenly an existential crisis becomes your best friend. Frank's embarrassing dedication to picking up the change in the street leads him to secure the job of no one's dreams, Sue has a sudden idea for a product invention when going through the mundane process of drying out her lettuce while making dinner salads, and Kevin's frustration & desperation pay off after the boys tune in to hear Vic use a two syllable taste of their song to introduce the weather segment. To three young boys with a pipe dream that's like the equivalent of being featured on MTV's 'Total Request Live' in 1999. Recently I've watched a friend go through a horrible incident and face their mortality. Suddenly that person is trapped in an existential nightmare... 'What's any of this worth if it really doesn't lead to anything, if we are all biding our time on this earth until the Grim Reaper comes-a-knocking anyway?' And that's just the base of it. We've all got our existential and emotional baggage to deal with, but it's the unexpected moments when you're at your lowest point that suddenly remind us that even tho we might all just be going through the motions and repeating history over and over, sudden sparks of light can suddenly reignite your passion for life... Its as all as easy as that, or as difficult as that, whichever way you want to look at it. Like Frank said in the beginning of FIFF's 'Night Shift', "I woulda killed myself, but I don't want to haunt my own house." **********Written By: Kevin Cage********** Special Thx: TVTime, Bill Burr, Michael Price, Jerry Wilson, Kat Holiday, Chad Rigsby... Dedicated to: Denver G. Pratt http:://www.tvtime.com http://www.spotlightsaga.com http://www.facebook.com/SpotlightSaga http://www.facebook.com/groups/ArtsEntertainment

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