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#tech what happened to your hairline
starrystevie · 6 months
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18+ | modern office steddie au | cw: public sex, undernegotiated kinks, unsafe sex | crossposted to ao3 here
eddie doesn't do it often. okay, maybe that's a stretch. frequently might be a better word for it, more accurate. but he wouldn't say he does it everyday or anything. it's just a little break from the day, an escape from the monotony of corporate america.
he's only been in this new tech support job for a few months but he's already comfortable enough that working on his next novel at his desk doesn't give him anxiety anymore. he isn't afraid someone is looking over his shoulder all the time like he did when he first started with the company.
the thing is, eddie's good at tech. he's good at finding the problems, finding even better solutions. half the time all he's doing is updating and restarting people's equipment that hasn't been refreshed in years. so he finds himself with enough free time at his desk to work on the second installment of his fantasy novel when the problems seem to be at a low.
as he waits for his laptop to boot up, eddie cracks his knuckles and grabs his phone to send a text to his editor that may or may not also happen to be his best friend so he could cut back on over exuberant editing fees. he doesn't read the message over, just fires out a text to nancy quickly before pocketing his phone.
he only realizes the typo once he gets a laughing emoji in return and cackles at what he actually sent.
"getting ready to write some smut on the cock!!!!!"
it doesn't take long to send a winky face before correcting himself to say " on the clock obviously", before pocketing his phone and opening the document where his novel is. just as eddie is about to start typing, a voice behind him makes him jump out of his skin.
"what was so funny?" steve asks, arm propped on the top of his flimsy cubicle wall, legs crossed over one another, smirk on his face.
eddie forces himself not to swoon. he takes in the way his white button up stretches across his chest, dress pants oh so snug over his thighs, hair pushed back in the way that only steve harrington could pull off. he may have only been at the office for a few months, but ever since he first saw him, steve very quickly became the only thing eddie could think about.
"i'm sure you wouldn't find it funny," he starts, tilting his laptop screen halfway shut so steve can't catch him doing his other job, his favorite job, while at work.
steve smirks again, his cheek lifting enough to crinkle his eye. "try me, munson."
with a dramatic push, eddie rolls in his wheely chair and stands up so he can keep his voice low. "i sent my editor a dirty text on accident."
if steve's surprised, he doesn't show it.
"editor, hmm? for what?" his voice is as low as eddie's and it makes the cubicle feel even smaller than it is. like everything in the world has zeroed in on their whispers to each other.
"i might be writing a book. well, technically i've already written a book. this is just the sequel."
steve's eyes flick from eddie to his laptop and then back once more. "is it anything i'd know?"
he cackles again, picturing steve reading his smutty fantasy novel, eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make any sense out of the haphazard world map eddie drew for the back page. but then again, he could easily picture steve in the world he made. he'd be a prince- no, scratch that, an elven prince- just like the one he's writing about in this one.
"i do read, you know. i'm not entirely up to date with everything but i do like books." steve says it like he's almost hurt and it makes eddie look back up at him, mellowing out his wide grin into a softer smile.
"oh, i wasn't doubting that. i just doubt you read elf porn in your free time."
whatever hurt was lacing through steve's face is gone, replaced with wide eyes and eyebrows to his hairline and a bright smile pulling at his cheeks.
"yeah," he says a little breathless, "yeah, definitely not the first thing i'd reach for."
eddie gives him a told-you-so head nod and brings a hand up to run through his hair, tracking steve's eyes as he follows the motion for a moment. having his eyes on him rushes through eddie like a wave crashing and he's halfway tempted to do it again if he didn't think it would look forced.
"well you probably don't know mine then."
as he turns to go back to his chair, he hears steve cough to get his attention back, arms crossed over his chest to make his shirt pull taut over his beautiful, gorgeous, annoyingly perfect biceps. "so what was the dirty text?"
"well, it was actually a typo," eddie starts, cocking his head to the side with a smirk as he pulls out his phone, "so an unintentional dirty text. but still funny, none the less. and i don't think i can say it out loud without getting hr called on my ass so-"
he holds up his phone so steve can see the brief conversation between him and nancy, watches his eyebrows shoot back up to his hairline, watches as his mouth drops open for a millisecond before giving eddie another goddamn smirk. steve leans back, drops his arms to put a hand on his hip, and looks eddie less than subtly up and down.
"so... do you want to?"
eddie can feel the moment his heart stutters in his chest. a combination of steve's general... steveness plus the implication of what the text said and his mind travels to a dirty, dirty, not meant for work place until he pieces it somewhat together and asks-
"...are you asking if i'm gay?"
steve huffs out a laugh and takes a step further into eddie's cubicle. there already isn't much room and with him coming in the tiniest bit closer, their toes are almost touching.
"sure," he says like it's the easiest thing to say on a thursday afternoon. "it can be a two-part question if you want."
a few things run through eddie's head all at the same time:
steve's close enough that he can feel the heat radiating off of the arm he now has resting on his desk, and he's really about to come out to a coworker which he normally leaves for at least 6 months into a new job, and that he thinks he's going to pass out if steve is actually asking what he thinks he's asking.
do you want to write smut while you're on my cock?
he doesn't know where he finds the courage, honestly. call it a slow thursday, call it a little extra motivation for his novel. eddie scoots closer and throws caution to the wind.
"then yes to both."
he's never seen steve's office. he's been to the top floors before when some higher up needed him to install a web browser on his new desktop so he has kind of an idea of what the private offices look like.
eddie didn't expect the first time that he got to see steve's office would be spread out, bent over his desk with his novel pulled up on his laptop while steve runs his hands over his ass.
"here's how this is going to work," steve whispers close to his ear while he lays against his back, snaking a hand up to undo the knot of eddie's messy tie, popping open a button on his dress shirt in the process. "you stop writing, i stop fucking you."
with a hum, eddie presses his hips back, up on his tiptoes with his off brand dress shoes pinching his feet tightly. "i think i can manage that."
"i'm not finished," he bites gently at eddie's ear lobe, returning his hands to palm over his ass cheeks. "everything i do to you, and i mean everything, needs to be written down. turn me into a character or something, i don't care, but i expect you to be thorough."
he doesn't mean to moan at the instructions, really he doesn't, but it's so easy to picture steve morphing into a character in his world. his mind races trying to figure out how exactly to write him into the scene that had already started, but with a snap of his fingers as the idea clicks, he writes out a quick line and looks at steve over his shoulder for approval.
"who's sylvar?" steve asks, pronunciation clunky on his tongue.
"sylvar is an elven prince, might as well make you him. besides, you both have an s name."
steve chuckles, his breath ruffling eddie's hair. "okay, fair. prince, huh?"
he doesn't have to look over his shoulder again to know that steve's smirking so he rolls his eyes and finishes the sentence, only breaking away to gasp as steve brings his hand between his thighs to spread them further apart.
"i'm gonna take a wild guess and say that elidyr is supposed to be you?"
eddie nods and pulls his tie off the rest of the way. "let's see, he's one of the prince's newest attendants, known for being a bit out of control, gets chastised for staring at the prince's ass in his khakis too much-"
"you're making that one up, huh?"
he tosses his tie to the side and brings a hand up to tangle in steve's hair, pulling his lips down to his neck and waiting for him to get the hint and start kissing. "steve, i'm making all of it up. that's the way writing a book goes."
"is that so?" he murmurs playfully against his neck, teeth pressing against the skin as he smiles, hands yanking on his hips to get eddie flush against his cock. "...i don't see you writing."
eddie huffs and shakes his head before writing out quickly how sylvar grabbed elidyr by the hips roughly to show him how excited he was. steve takes the typing as the go ahead and quickly undoes both of their pants before running his hands up eddie's now bare thighs.
he didn't really have any idea of how well he'd be able to hold out to steve's ministrations while having to write them out at the same time, but any confidence he had in himself leaves when steve's palm cups his cock through his briefs. eddie cants his hips forward and brings his hand back up to tangle once more in steve's hair.
and just like that, the touch is gone.
"oh, come on!" eddie whines and brings his hands back to the keyboard, typing in random filler words until suddenly he has no underwear and hands pulling his ass cheeks apart.
"gonna fucking take you apart... shit," steve whispers and eddie doesn't think he was supposed to hear it, but he writes it into the scene anyway.
there's a cool dribble of what must be lube on his hole and he fights against the shiver it sends up his spine. "you have lube in your office?"
"no, i have lube in my briefcase. big difference."
eddie doesn't really see how to the two are different, but he laughs to appease steve before getting cut short as a finger starts to enter him. he must whine, must jerk or do something wrong because it's leaving almost as soon as it had arrived.
"steve, i swear to god," eddie groans, head dropping down as he types without looking. poor nancy is going to have a hell of time reading and editing over this draft.
they both sigh when the finger presses into him once more and steve weaves his other hand into eddie's hair to pull him up and look at his screen. "there you go, just keep typing. write about how good it feels."
and shit. that's hotter than he expected it to be.
it goes well for all of a few minutes, eddie typing and steve reading over his shoulder, scissoring his fingers to get him nice and wet and open. they both somehow manage to keep their composure, filthy words being muttered out loud that then end up on the screen.
it's after steve gets him cock in him that it all goes down hill.
"oh fuck-" eddie moans as his leg gets hoisted up for a better angle. steve's grip on his hip is brutal, bound to be leaving bruises, as he pulls eddie back to meet him in the middle.
his chest is rubbing against the pleather desk cover, nipples catching on just the right side of painful when steve pushes his shirt up and out of the way. his dick is flopping against his thigh with every thrust, the lack of friction driving him insane.
he swears he only takes his hands away from the laptop for a second but then steve's pulling out quickly, dropping his leg and getting eddie off balance. he whines like he's throwing a temper tantrum before bringing his fingers back up to type more nonsense, gasping when steve slides back in like no time has passed.
"read it," he huffs next to his ear, "tell me how perfect you make fucking me sound."
"oh my god," eddie croaks, eyes rolling back as steve lets go of his hip once more to pull his head upright. "sylvar fucks wi-without abandon, hitting every right spot possible inside elidyr, the heat of his h-heavy cock punishing him making him mad with lust."
"good, yeah that's good. like when i fuck you hard?" steve grunts out before pistoning his hips even faster, eddie's moans bouncing off the bare office walls. "tell me more, keep going baby."
"the grip he uses to hold onto elidyr's hair is the only thing keeping him upright. this is all he could want, tending to the prince's every desire, being whatever the prince wants him to be." eddie expects it when the fingers in his hair curl even tighter, his back bowing against the desk with the pressure, but he still keens loudly at the pull.
steve chuckles roughly, like he's barely holding on himself, hips stuttering before evening out. "is that what you want?"
"wha-" eddie murmurs, not trusting his voice much more than that, his brain turning into mush. "is what what i want?"
"want to tend to my desires, want to be for me to use however i please?"
and the thing is, realistically, eddie knows this whole thing is weird, blending his two worlds together in a way he's never done before, but it doesn't stop him from forgoing the rules and bringing a hand down to work over his cock. "god, don't stop. please, please, please..."
steve must be tired of the game, too, because he doesn't even attempt to quit what they're doing to punish eddie as he stops writing. he barely has time to appreciate that the game is finally over because the hand in his hair slides around to rest gently around eddie's throat, pulling him up so his back is to steve's chest, every thrust punching out another gasping breath.
"answer the question," he says, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips. "gonna let me use you how i want?"
eddie has died and gone to heaven and the cause of death is a mixture of steve's tongue, hands, and cock. his mind wanders to what else they could do together, what else he'd let steve do, what else he wants steve to do. he sends up a quick thank you to whoever is listening that he saw the job posting for this company so he could be here in this moment with a possible sex god in his midst.
the hand that he had braced on the desk for support makes its way up to cover steve's on his throat, a barely there pressure combined with his quick fingers on his cock that sends him over the edge.
he breathes out a "yes" as he shoots come across the stop of steve's desk and see stars dancing in his eyes. steve fucks him through it, whispers filth of what he wants to do to eddie right into his ear, and when he comes back to himself, he digs his nails in the top of steve's hand.
"want it, want you, however you want me-" he chokes out.
and when steve finally comes inside of him, eddie makes sure he bends back down with his cock still pounding into him to write some line about how nice elidyr thinks it feels to filled up from someone who probably shouldn't be giving him the time of day. he tries not to find parallels as steve kisses up the back of his neck as he rocks his hips for the final time.
eddie's bare ass is in a mixture of their come as they maneuver him around to let him sit up and wrap his legs around steve's hips, pulling their spent cocks together while they lazily make out. steve's hands dance softly over his bare thighs, eddie threads his fingers through steve's hair.
"how does it end?" steve whispers against his lips.
"i don't know yet," eddie says truthfully, his mind wandering as kisses start to trail down his jawline. "how do you want it to end?"
"i don't suppose they have bars in this elf world, do they? one where they can go on an actual date to before going back to the palace or whatever to ravage each other?"
eddie grins, tipping his head back to catch steve's lips one more time in a slow kiss. "i can arrange for them to go to the tavern. i think they'd both like that."
the next morning, slightly hungover and draped over each other in steve's way too large bed, eddie ignores a text from nancy asking why the names change halfway through the draft and wondering who the fuck steve is. eddie silences his phone and goes back to sleep, so glad that he didn't double check his first message yesterday for typos.
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todorokies · 8 months
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midnight love affair - suguru geto
contents: nsfw, established relationship, fem!reader, reader is lowkey a smart mouthed bimbo, would this classify as crack ???, modern au where suguru isn’t depressed as shit
a/n: idk what this is i just need geto tbhh … inspired by the song midnight love affair by October London
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“do you think touchscreen tvs will be a thing in the future?”
head woozy and heavy filled with nothing but the intoxicating sensation of your wet folds gracefully gliding up and down his painfully hard cock with your pussy occasionally clenching around him leaving a white ring imprint of your creamy residue. your raven haired boyfriend tried to make sense of the current predicament at hand as you stilled yourself on top of his lap, fully seated, letting his cockhead rest snug up against that spongy spot that always makes you dizzy.
his eyes held a look of pure dumbfounded confusion with sweat cumulating at the beginning of his hairline, lips extremely chapped and mouth agape he truly couldn’t believe what he’s hearing right now. (mostly due to the faint ringing of his ears as the pleasure was too much that he began to hear colours.)
you already fucked him dumb and he hasn’t even cummed yet.
with his leftover strength he was finally able to piece something together to counterpart your bizarre question. “huh?” was all he was able to conjure. you wrap your arms around his neck, “what do you mean “huh” did i already fuck your brains out? did you not hear what i said?”
oh now you’re getting sassy. he quickly licks his lips then elaborates. “i did hear you, i’m just confused where this is coming from all of the sudden.”
you simply shrug “it’s just a simple thought that came to me… consider it a shower thought if you will.” suguru gives you a look of uncertainty but doesn’t question any farther, instead, he indulges you.
“well the concept of a touchscreen tv is inconvenient, nobody wants to get up from the couch every time to change the channel.”
“i had a feeling you would say that!” you dramatically flail your arms in the air, “inconvenient or not you can’t deny the speed of the way technology is enhancing everyday; sooner or later somebody is gonna invent it.”
you had a point. “you’re right but would anyone willingly buy it? it just seems impractical to have in a home doesn’t it?”
“you’re not looking at bigger picture here; every year people complain about the amount of camera lenses apple adds to the latest iphone but yet they still go out of their way to buy it for a ridiculous price and you wanna know why this happens..?”
he quirks an eyebrow up signalling for you to continue suddenly intrigued to hear your conclusion.
“because consumers, especially tech nerds, love getting their hands on the newest inventions. it doesn’t matter how impractical it is, just knowing they possess something so expensive and high tech gives them this sort of euphoric high.”
“huh, i guess that reasoning never crossed my mind…you should definitely donate your brain to science.” a low dry chuckle passes from his lips and a frown tugs upon yours as you lift your hips to glide all the way up to the tip of his cock then slam yourself down earning a desperate throaty groan from the man below you.
“keep laughing and you won’t be cumming tonight.”
and at that all suguru could do is fondly smile to himself. you keep him on his toes everyday; always unpredictable with your actions and words. never in a million years could suguru see himself stopping sex midway to have an out-of-the-blue conversation about touchscreen television. this was one of your many quirks that made him gravitate towards you and crave for your spontaneous persona to find it’s way into his life.
“whatever you say goes my love, now can we please go back to fucking?”
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reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3
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ktficworld · 10 months
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Loving you is not easy, my dear
Pairing: Steve Rogers x desi!reader
Summary: America thinks Steve Rogers can do better and maybe, they are right.
Warning: heavy racism(seriously, I'm not using this word lightly), angst, hurt/comfort, trolling, protective!Steve, reader gets her revenge on the racist bastards 😈
A/n: posting after so long. Already know traction is going to be shit but I'd really appreciate if you reblog this. I'll try to keep it short(I failed💀)
Tags: @sunshine-on-my-mind @slutty-daddy-pedro
This wasn't supposed to happen.
You weren't ready to get dragged through the mud just yet.
You and Steve have been dating for a year. You were a regular software engineer. Wandering around on the internet, to help fellow programmers with their problems. Little did you know, that none other than Tony Stark was there for help under the disguise of 'toiletdistroyer'; frankly, you should have known by this username, but oh well.
So, you caught the billionaires eye and he offered you a job on the spot. And of course, you took it, much to your parents dismay and happiness. With tears filled in your eyes and aachar, parathe stuffed in your tiffin. Of you went to America.
You didn't meet the captain for a good month and honestly, even if you had. You wouldn't have given two fucks about him since you were stressed to the brim with work and moving in.
You slowly met every avenger. Tony was the first, of course. Then it was Bruce Wayne Banner as you worked on the technical part of a bio-tech project he was developing. He was good but was shy and mostly kept to himself. Afterwards followed, Natasha, she was sassy and perfect. You liked talking to her about girl shit and somehow, she took a liking to your weird ass and you befriended black widow.
Next up, was his best friend. Bucky. He caught you wandering outside the stark building because you came too early and so he joined you and the birds chirping. He was cute and funny, but not your type. Thankfully, he wasn't interested and quickly friend zoned him.
Then you met him.
You whistled as you sauntered into the lobby. Clocking out early from your shift and cherry on top, it was Friday. You were going to have a fun weekend. Talking with your parents, watching kdrama and being gleefully single.
Your whistle was disturbed by something squashy yet hard coming underneath your foot. You retreated your foot and glanced down with furrowed brows. It was a brown leather wallet. With a sigh, you bent down and picked up the lost wallet.
You opened the wallet to see the identity of the abandoned wallet's owner and your eyebrows disappeared into you hairline as the stupidly handsome face of the captain appeared in front of you. He must have dropped it in a hurry.
Your eyes darted around as you bit your bottom lip. The sane thing to do would be to go to the reception, hand her the wallet and go your merry way. But he might still be around and also, the receptionist looked too bitchy for you to deal with. So you went for the less sane option, of course.
You took a deep breath and glanced up at the ceiling. "Hey, Friday. Is Captain Rogers still in the compound?"
"Yes, miss. Shona. Captain Rogers is in the parking lot." The robotic voice of Friday said from above.
"Thank you, Friday." You said and deeply sighed. Yes, you could do it. No need to be nervous. What if he's Captain America? You ain't a criminal. With that peep talk, you rushed to the parking lot.
You almost tripped while trying to find Steve in the parking lot but in the end, you found him. He was swinging his leg to climb on his bike when you shouted to get his attention.
"Captain Rogers! Captain Rogers!" The man stopped mid-way, setting his foot back on the ground as he turned around and you almost died at the sight of him. He was wearing blue jeans, white T-shirt and blue jacket, making his sapphire eyes pop as some blonde hair strands falling over his forehead. Oh, girl. Get a grip on yourself!
He was startled by your incessant shouting as he looked at you with his doe yet alert eyes. "Yes, miss. How can I help you?" He asked, ever the gentleman and you internally sighed in relief that he didn't call you ma'am.
You waved his wallet and said. "Your wallet. I think you dropped in the lobby."
His eyes widened as he patted his pockets and a sheepish look appeared on his face. "Ah, I think I really dropped it. Sorry." He said and walked up to you.
You gave him his wallet with a smile and bit your lip when your hands touched. Fuck, were you on your pms?
You peered at him through your lashes as he checked the insides of the wallet and promptly shoved it in his jeans back pocket.
He glanced at you and with a shy smile, said. "Thank you, miss."
"Oh, no problem. You can call me shona." You didn't know what divine energy of confidence came over you as you extended your hand for Steve to shake.
Steve looked at you funnily but shook your hand nonetheless. "That's not your real name, is it?" He asked timidly after the handshake, his touch lingering on your hand as you unwittingly savoured the feeling.
You beamed at him and shook your head. "Nope."
"Then, what is it?"
You told him your name and the smile on his dashing face faded away as he looked down. You could not blame him, most people had the same reaction and that was why you gave your nickname, not actual name.
"I'll probably butcher that." He muttered sadly as he scratched the back of his neck.
You chuckled and waved off his concerns. "It's alright. Most people can't say my name. Only few special people have made it into a special group who can pronounce it outside India." And it was true. Only few people were able to say your name without getting their tongue twisted, including Natasha.
Steve raised an eyebrow. He bent down, close to your face and whispered, in a husky voice. "And what are the requirements?"
You hummed as you pretend to think with your finger on your chin and said, dramatically. "A lot of dedication and practice."
Now it was his turned to be amused as he leaned even closer and asked. "And what will I get if I get into this special club?"
You were caught off guard as you spluttered out. "Um, what do you want?" And you also had kdramas to binge for fuck sake.
"A dinner sounds good." He said with a lopsided grin.
You gave him a thumbs up and said. "Perfect! Now I need to go. I have a weekend to enjoy, bye." You said and rushed out without a second thought or glance at Steve.
When you sat down in the metro was the time when your dumb mind actually processed his words and you froze In your seat. Wait! Did he just ask you on a date?
He did, in fact, ask you on a date.
After he learned to say your name. You two went on a date and you knew you were doomed. Those blue eyes had effectively captured your heart as you slowly fell for him.
And who won't? He was so soft, affectionate, caring, supportive. He was perfect. You didn't know what he saw in you. You were so... Regular.
But whenever you would say this to him. He would look at you all offended and ask why not? You were beautiful, intelligent and his sunshine. And you melted everytime he said that.
You told your parents and you had to make your mother take an oath that she won't say anything about your relationship to any of your relatives as she just couldn't stop giggling. Thankfully, she kept her oath.
You also officially got introduced to the avengers. Bucky and Natasha already knew about it and everyone was happy for you and Steve. Yeah, Tony did throw a tantrum about how he didn't figure out your budding romance and how Rogers whisked you away from under his nose. His words, not yours. And he also earned a slap to the chest by Pepper for that.
You both decided to keep your relationship private. Steve did not want to make a circus of his relationship in the media and you also wanted to lay low. You wanted to take the Katrina Kaif route, one day you're single and the next day, poof! You are married.
But the Cosmos had another plan.
You didn't know who it was, a reporter or a fan. But someone captured you and Steve in a not so platonic way. You were sitting on his bike, one hand occupied with an ice cream and the other, draped over his board shoulder. He was holding you by the waist as you both kissed. Ice cream long forgotten as you both were smiling into the kiss. But someone had posted it on social media and overnight your very private relationship was in front of the entire world to judge ans comment about.
You woke up to a cold bed and your phone exploded with texts and calls, ranging from judgmental relatives to your friends from India and America to the entire avengers team.
You furrowed your brows at the slew of messages and calls and decided to call Steve but instead his phone blared in your shared room, making you sigh. What the fuck was going on?
You scrolled through your contacts and paused when Natasha's name appeared. You hovered over her number hesitantly before calling her. Just after two rings, she answered.
"Hello, Natasha. What is going on and where is Steve?" You asked her in a sleepy voice and scratched your head.
On the other side of the line, Natasha sucked in a sharp breath and replied with unusual franticness. "Shona, somebody leaked a photo of you two and now the world knows that you both are in a relationship. Steve's in the living room, come here quickly and don't open your social media!" Natasha cautioned.
"Wha-" You didn't even get a chance to comprehend her words before she hang up the call. You glance at your phone incredulously. You sat up straight when your brain finally processed the given information. Your relationship was public. Your Katrina Kaif moment was ruined even before it materialised, ugh! So unfair.
And telling you not to open your social medias? It was like telling a child not to eat the candies from the jar. You bit your lip and opened the hellhole called twitter. And the number one trending hastag was:
#CaptainAmericaisdatingwho?
You tapped on the hastag and was instantly greeted by the picture of you and Steve. Your eyes widened as you took in the picture, whoever clicked it had good photography skills as you looked decent in it. You scrolled down and made a decision you would later come to regret, started reading the reactions of the people.
He is dating an Indian? Why? Did he not find any good girl in here? Insane.
If they have a child, what would be their skin color?
She probably put him under a spell or something.
Wait! She works for Stark, meaning this is a work-place relationship. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.
Captain America is taken😭😭😭 why God! Now I need to find someone else to obsess over😭😭😭
Look how she's eating. Like, get some manners girl! 👇
You looked down to the image attached. You were eating rice with your hand and winking at the camera, granted it wasn't the neatest sight but eating food with hands made it taster(yeah, fight me on it!).
That was it, you could not take it anymore. You burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as you giggled at the comments, doubling down in your bed.
Tears gathered in your eyes as you laughed your ass off on these racists misery. You knew damn well that you would face some form of racism whether you dated Steve or not and it was funny to see them whine like anyone gave a shit.
You scrolled some more laughing at the whiny racist and the memes people made along the way. However, one comment caught your attention as you halted to read it.
Why isn't Steve dating her?
You looked down at the photo and your heart dropped, all your happiness fading away. You stared at the woman's photo for what felt like ages as you observed her porcelain skin, her blonde hair and her perfect figure. She was the epitome of an American woman.
You looked at Sharon's perfect face and could not help but echo the poster's thought. Yeah, why wasn't he dating Sharon? Why was he dating you? A regular girl while he was captain fucking America! He could have anyone he wanted. A model, an actor anyone he wanted and he wanted you? Why?
Much to your detriment, you scroll past it and onto the next comment which said:
So, she's the ugly one in the relationship 🙈🙈🙈
The comment plunged into your soul like a rusted dagger as your breathing becomes a shallow pounding in your ears. You glanced forward, where the full length mirror was sitting and stared at your reflection with critical gaze.
You brought a hand to your face, it was so dull. Your eyes had dark circles and were puffy. Your lips weren't plump enough. Your eyes weren't big enough. Your body wasn't curvy enough. You only had brains. No, you didn't! You weren't special, anyone could do your job with enough practice. You were nothing out of the ordinary.
You were snapped out of your destructive thoughts as your phone was snatched out of your grip. You whipped your eyes to the perpetrator and a very furious Natasha glared back at you.
"What did I tell you about not checking your social media?" Natasha asked, enraged as she waved your phone in her hands.
You didn't want Natasha to be proven right so you scoffed and replied. "Telling someone not to do something will only make them do it more. Haven't you heard of reverse psychology, agent?" You snarked and Natasha shook her head in displeasure.
"You coming with me?" Natasha asked.
You paused to think and then shook your head. "Let me shower first. I feel dirty and sleepy."
Natasha nodded thoughtfully and said. "Okay, I'll stay here."
You whined in protest but quickly shut up after receiving a steely glare fron the black widow which would make even the toughest villians pee their pants. You showered, taking extra long as you got distracted by your thoughts yet again. And made your way to the living room with Natasha in toe.
And you heard it before you saw it. The annoying voice of one of the most famous conservative journalist as he said that Steve Rogers could do much better, that this relationship wasn't going to last and that he wished it won't last long.
The last part made your stomach churn in uncertainty.
The pattering of footsteps alerted the other avengers of your arrival. Tony and Steve were standing next to each other as they talked in hushed yet aggressive tone.
Tony looked annoyed than ever as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. While, Steve? Steve looked like just one poke and he would snap. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were ablaze as he stood taut.
Both of the man's gaze snapped towards you as Steve's face softened and he rushed towards you, blocking your view to the TV as Tony hastily turned it off.
"You finally done sleeping, sleepy head?" Steve asked affectionately as he caressed you cheek.
You hummed absentmindedly and forced a smile on your face. "Slept like a baby." You said and the air was so thick with tension that it was strangling you more than your own mind as no one dared to talk about the elephant in the room.
Eventually, Steve cleared his throat and said in a whisper. "You already know what happened but don't worry, I'm with you." And pulled you into his embrace. Yes, why are you with me, Steve? What do you like in having to deal with all this drama when you could date any white woman and keep the peace?
You tried to reciprocate his hug but it was a half hearted attempt as you were fixated onto something else.
"Yeah, don't do anything stupid." Sam said when you and Steve parted. His face was empathic and knowing and your heart broke at that. Still, you gave him a half smile.
"Hey! That's my line!" Bucky yelled in offence, making Sam scowl at him.
"You don't own a sentence, Buchanan." Sam countered.
"Don't call me that and I would copyright..." They kept bickering but you tuned them out as the seed of doubt started sprouting in your consciousness.
📷
But it only got worse. The hate just didn't stop and everyone was piling up on you. Indians did come to your defence, questioning the racism and the unrequited hate you were getting.
But some were also interrogating you. Why were you dating captain America? Why were you flying so high? That he may just be using you and would leave you for an American sooner or later. This sentiment was also shared by your relatives.
Your parents were on your side but you could sense that seeing you get attacked was upsetting them. You put up a brave face in front of the world but you were crumbling down from the depths of your being. You were falling down an abyss and no matter how hard you shouted for help, your mind didn't let up its torment.
You didn't tell the avengers or Steve because they was already so stressed out dealing with all this fiasco. He was so distraught that he didn't even notice you withdrawing from him. He didn't notice how you slept on the edge of the bed instead of in his arms. He didn't notice that you avoided mirror like a plague. He didn't notice how you were drowning in your minds stupid tricks.
That was until it boiled over.
It was a quiet evening. You were walking back to the compound after running some errands. Apparently, Indian species were hella expensive and hard to find in there so you shopped for them by yourself. And it was also because you liked these non-eventful and tranquil moments that you had reserved for yourself.
You were absentmindedly trudging forward as the compound just entered your peripheral when a shout jolted you out of your trance like state.
"Go back to your country!"
You whirled around, only to come face-to-face with a regular white man. Seriously, he didn't even look like a Kevin or intimidating, just run of the mil white guy, very easy to blend in the crowd.
You raised your eyebrows and exclaimed. "Excuse me?"
The man tutted and took a step forward, you taking a backward step. "Didn't you hear me? I said, go back to your country."
"This is getting old. Try something new." You said with a bored voice and crossed your arms on your chest.
"Seriously, first you take our jobs then resources and now our hero? Just because you don't have anything in your country, doesn't mean you should come running to us and mooch off of us." He ranted with a grunt.
"Why? You wanna date him?" You eyed him from head to toe. "To my knowledge, Steve is straight and even if he wasn't. I don't think he would date someone like you." You snided.
His jaw ticked as he took a step forward. "You don't deserve him!" He spat.
Yes, you don't deserve him. Your mind supplied as your grip around the shopping bag loosened.
"He deserves better." Yes, he deserved better.
"You are nothing." Yes, you were nothing.
You were so hypnotised by your minds scorching affirmations that you didn't see the approaching threat.
You yelped as your back hit an electric poll, grocery bag falling on the ground. The man lunging forward for an attack but before he could even lift his hand, a punch from his left side shoved him away and he landed on the ground with a pained grunt.
You let out a shuddery breath as you slowly glanced to your left, your whole body trembling with fear. Your eyes landed on Steve standing there, panting heavily as his knuckles were painted crimson, by whose blood? You didn't know. His eyes were ablaze and his face was murderous as he began charging towards the whimpering man on the pavement.
This snapped you from whatever demons were holding you as marched towards him and shrieked. "Steve, stop!"
You stopped in front of him and wrapped youur hands around his. He halted in his steps, his face instantly softening as he unclenched his fists and dropped his offensive stance. He cupped your right cheek and you spluttered out a sob.
You glanced down at his bloody knuckle and coked out. "Steve, let's go."
He glanced behind you at the whining man and then nodded. He tucked you in his embrace while your gaze never left his knuckles. This was all your fault. Because of you, he almost lost control of himself and if he would have done something then you would have also smeared his name. Maybe it was good to end things.
📷
The room was pin-drop silent, only the sniffling of you and Steve and the clinking of the first aid kit being shut closed reverberated through the walls. Steve had started to talk as soon as you left the man writhing on the cold sidewalk but one finger of yours on his lips and he shut up, accepting your silent plea of solace. But you couldn't push back the inevitable any longer.
You lifted up the first aid kit and set it inside one of the cabinets in the bathroom. When you came back, you sat down on the coffee table ahead of Steve and peered at him through your lashes, your heart breaking when your gaze landed at his pretty face. You would miss him.
It was Steve who spoke first. He intertwined his bandaged hand with yours and softly said. "I'm sorry, you are suffering so much because of me and I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you."
Swallowing, you looked down as tears beaded your eyelashes and muttered out. "I think we should break up, Steve. It's not working out." Saying those words was like stabbing yourself in the chest with a scorching knife.
Steve instantly stiffened and his grip on your hand grew tight as he refused to let you go. "Why?" He asked and before you could reply, his bitter laugh made your head snap upwards as he shook his head.
"Why am I asking this? This should be pretty obvious to me," He sniffled as few tears slid down his cheeks. He glanced at you and you had to bite your lip to hold back your own tears as his pained and misty eyes stared into yours. "Is there nothing I could do to change your mind? To make you give me a second chance? Do you not love me anymore?"
The last part was like a slap to your face as you furiously shook your head and yelled. "I love you with all my heart, body, mind and soul. I love you more than anything in this world, more than I could ever articulate."
"Then why are you leaving me?" He asked in a whisper.
And the flood burst gates open as you broke down. "BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE YOU."
Steve immediately placed you in his lap as sons wrecked through your body. "Why would you say that? You deserve the world, doll."
"No Steve, no! You are Captain America and I'm nothing. You are gorgeous and I'm ugly. You are perfect and I'm not." You cried into his chest, selfishly seeking his warmth.
Steve jutted your chin upwards and gazed down at you with soft offense. "No, honey. I'm not perfect, I betrayed Tony, I have done so many things that I regret. I have cried in your arms multiple times and you have seen me vulnerable." He said through his own tears.
"But you are so pretty. You should be dating a model or an actress, not me."
"Who like me for being Captain America? No way and," He held your face in his palms and continued. "You are the most beautiful, most intelligent, most amazing woman I have ever met. I won't trade you for anyone."
"Then why I doesn't feel like it, Steve? You asked in a defeated whisper. "Why can't I see myself the way you see me?"
"I can help you look at yourself like I look at you. Please just, don't leave me. I can't live without you. We can survive this storm." He murmured softly kissed your sore eyes.
Your lips quivered as you brought your hands to Steve's face. "I want you, Steve. I want you so much but holding you feels like a sin."
"And holding you feels like a dream. A dream I thought I would never have," He said quietly and gently pressed his forehead with yours. "Just give me another chance. Give us another chance."
"Okay." You replied. Your sobs had ended and draped a heavy blanket of fatigue over you in their farewell as you melted into Steve's hold and Steve snuggled in you more. You didn't know when he placed you on your bed or when you fell asleep in his arms. You let yourself fall into his bliss as all the demons left you. Because in this moment , Steve was yours and you were his and that was all that mattered.
📷
You yawned as you got out of your slumber. The bed was cold again as Steve was nowhere to be found. Again.
Maybe he realised you were right and moved instead of kicking you out. You sniffed a little and turned around, so you were facing the front of your room. But your face instantly scrunched up in bewilderment as you took in the sight.
There were polaroid pictures hanging from the ceiling by a white thread, all facing away from you. You scratched your head as you tentatively got out of the bed. How the fuck did someone hang these and you didn't even stir? Was this from hydra?
The last thought made you gulp as you gingerly reached out for the first picture and pulled it close to read the text written on it with a marker.
Do you remember the time when you handled the toughest project alone?
-Tony
"Huh, what?" Now you were even more confused as you flipped the glossy paper and burst out into a fit of laughter.
It was a picture of you handing Tony a golden toilet trophy like you were handing an Oscar with a megavolt grin as he was rolling his eyes but still, he begrudgingly received the award.
You wiped off a tear from your eye and refocused back on his question. You hummed to yourself as you took a trip down the memory lane. It was a very important biotech project and there had come a point where the connection between the software and hardware had broken and no one could figure why because everything was normal and nothing seemed faculty. It turned out to be a software issue as the code had malfunctioned and needed to be rewritten in a more efficient manner.
You led the team who did that and boy were those days exhausting. Overtime, frustration, failure after failure and of course the moral of the team going down. But you managed to keep the team together and pulled through. Providing excellence.
You smiled a little at that memory. You weren't that useless.
Sighing, you stepped forward to the next picture and read the text on it.
Remember when you got hit on and Steve scowled?
-Natasha and Wanda
You turned the photo around, showing you, Wanda and Natasha. You and Wanda were eating a leftover cake while Natasha was drinking wine straight from the bottle.
You remembered that night. You were minding your own business and not touching alcohol since you didn't want to wake up with a pounding headache. when a guy suddenly materialised next to you and ordered a drink for you without even asking and began flirting.
You smoothly pulled yourself out of that situation and gave the drink to Natasha but Steve had witnessed the whole interaction and he looked like he wanted to sucker punch that poor dude. He was teased relentlessly about it for a month.
Now that you thought about it. You were hit on multiple times on multiple occasions. It was a game of sorts between you and Steve. Since your relationship was private, it was amusing to see people ask you or Steve on a date. You always relished in watching girls flirt with Steve because he would always get uncomfortable and nope out of there like his life depended on it. It was fun because no matter how much they flirted with him, you knew that the man was yours.
You chuckled and caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. You weren't that bad looking.
You walked up to the next polaroid and snatched it closer.
Remember when you comforted me when everyone was sleeping?
-Bucky
Your eyes filled with tears as you flicked to see yours and Bucky's image, it was clicked during lockdown when everyone stressed a lot about cleaning everything. You were pretending to sing with a cleaner bottle in your hand as a microphone and Bucky was using a broom as his guitar.
With a reminiscent smile and you thought back to that one stormy night when Steve was out on a mission and everyone was sound asleep.
You being the insomniac that you were started trudging towards the kitchen for some late night snack but stopped mid-way when you heard whimpers coming from Bucky's room. You went inside without asking but saw him crying alone in his bed. He was so resistant to your comfort and even yelled at you for intruding on his privacy: but he was right about it. However, he caved in the end and cried his heart out while you held him. Then you both watched anime and ate chips. Sleep was nowhere to be found that night.
You bit your lips as you went to the last and final picture, that was dangling before the door.
Remember why I love you?
-Steve
You burst into tears as the realisation dawned on you that it was he, who did all of this. To make you see yourself through his eyes and everybody's eyes. And no, you didn't remember why he loved you because there were too many moments and reasons to remember all that once.
Warmth bloomed in your chest as you finally looked at the picture and it was just like your relationship. Sweet and simple. With you both in the bed, hair messy and lazy smiles on your faces. It was a morning selfie that you taken sporadically on his phone.
You loved him. You loved him so much and you wanted to be with him till the end of the line. Because even if you were just a regular jane, you loved him and he loved you and that was all that mattered.
In your whirlpool of emotions, you didn't register the the bedroom door clicking open and Steve walking inside. It was when his strong arms enveloped you, did you got out of your reverie and glanced at him, teary eyed.
You hugged him back and wept louder in his chest as he rubbed your head. "I love you. I'm sorry for telling everyone about what you were going through but I thought it would help, please stop crying."
You slapped a hand over his lips and cried out. "Shut up. You lovely little dork. I love you. You did nothing wrong in my eyes."
With hope twinkling in his eyes, he removed your palm and asked. "So, will you give us another chance?"
"Yes! This one incident won't make my problems go away in a snap but I want to be with you and learn to love myself like you love me." You said through a smile and leaned to kiss him when-
"What about the trolls?" Tony's voice made you shriek in surprise as Steve gave him an exasperated look.
"Really, Tony?" Steve said with displeasure.
"Yeah, really asshole?" Natasha said and slapped Tony on the head.
Tony scrunched up his face in indignation and said. "But I need to know. She's not used to the attention and hate. And she can't even deactivate her social media because she is one of our representatives from tech."
This made a bulb go off in your head as you held up your plam and said. "Don't worry, Tony. I'll have it handled. Plus, we didn't really publicly announced our relationship, did we?"
Steve narrowed his eyes at you but you just grinned at him devilishly. Time to troll the trolls.
📷
You softly closed the bathroom door as you stepped outside, your white saree grazing the floor. You looked ahead and your jaw went slack, Steve was his blue powder blue shirt and black pants and his blonde hair practically glowed in the golden light of the evening. He looked so gorgeous that you just couldn't tear your eyes away from him.
But then you realised his intense stare on you and you quickly looked down, heat raising to your cheeks. "Stop, staring, it's creepy."
Steve let out a throaty chuckle and said. "I can say the same thing about you."
You opened your mouth to reply but the Bucky's exasperated voice interjected with a grunt. "You both can do this later. Now, come on before the sunsets and the light is gone." And harshly thrusted his phone in the direction of the door.
You chuckled. "Alright, let's go." Steve held your hand as you both walked outside the compound and into the evening sun. After, finding a place where the background was greenery instead of a concrete jungle. You perched on his Harley. Your hand snaked around his neck as his came down to rest on your butt while he stood in the middle of your legs and both came forward to kiss each other.
Bucky clicked the picture but Steve didn't let you go until the need for oxygen became dire. You smiled bashfully and wiped your mouth as you finally got off his bike and went to the very unimpressed Bucky.
He shoved your phone into your hands and ran away before he had to endure any of your pda any further.
You shrugged it off and looked at the photo. Thankfully, it was good and you gave Steve a thumbs up before posting it with a caption:
I corrupted the golden boy and I'm not sorry 😈
Steve also posted the same picture but his caption was more modest:
My love ❤
And. It. Blew. Up, again.
The haters and racist started whining again. Sane people supported you both and laughed at the haters, going as far as making memes. You were trending again, many famous people also came out of the woodworks and congratulated you both which made you roll your eyes.
You didn't care about the public thought of you. You wanted to troll the haters and you successfully accompanied that.
However, it didn't end there. As your devil incarnate friends decided to add fuel to the fire by posting pictures of you and Steve being all over each other with a complimentary middle finger emoji. And apparently, everybody had one.
Either you two were pervs Or your friends were nosey as fuck. Natasha and Bucky agreed with the former assumption.
Bucky posted you both kissing on a picnic.
Natasha of you sitting in Steve's lap.
Sam posted a photo of your head resting in his lap.
Heck, even Peter posted a photo where Steve was kissing your temple.
There were many more but you that was enough for the day as you switched off your phone and tossed it on the bed side table.
"I just wish, no pray that my parents don't see any of these pictures or I will be having an interesting phone call with them. The relatives are still blasting my phone but I ignored them as always." You rambled to Steve as he slid under the covers.
Steve let out a raspy chuckle and said. "I don't think they haven't seen it yet as we're all over the, well everything."
You groaned and pouted at Steve because he didn't need to always tell the truth but as soon as you locked eyes with him you melted in his oceanic blue gaze. He pulled you into his comforting arms and you happily obliged.
"Steve, now that the whole mess is kinda resolved. What's next?" You asked as you gazed into his sapphire blue eyes.
He hummed and gazed back at you. "What's next? Good question, but I don't think you want to hear the answer to that. Would ruin the fun. " He whispered and leaned down to kiss you before you could question him further.
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comiicii · 8 months
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Hummingbird
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Backdrop: You and Miles have been best friends since you were babies. Doesn't mean that the friendship never faced some hardships. Pairing: e1610!Miles Morales x fem!spider!reader | e!1610 peter parker x platonic!reader Warnings: None, probably some grammatical errors. A's notes: This is going to be a series that spans both Spider-verse movies. This first chapter is mainly word vomit, laying the foundation for the next chapter. Reader is a spider-person in the story and her powers/suit are that of Aña Corazon. Word count: 2k
You and Miles hadn’t always been joined at the hip. You two had grown up together on the same block which meant your families were close. You both also attended Brooklyn Visions Academy. There was a rough patch you two went through before attending the school. It lasted about two years. Two years of hang outs cut short, excuses and apologies (from you). Thinking back on it, those two years were the absolute worst.
The reason those two years were a rough patch in your friendship with Miles was because you got bit by a radioactive spider and became your universe’s Spider-Girl. Your actual spider name was Araña but the news didn’t care - you were a menace to some like J. Jonah Jameson and Spider Girl sorta stuck.
You were 12 when that happened. There was already a Spider Man, Peter Parker but he gladly took you under his wing. He didn’t mind showing you the ropes. Your powers slightly varied from his. Besides the usual super strength, heightened senses, and all the general arachnid powers, you got the extra boost of organic webbing and camouflage (which you would later teach Miles how to control). Peter did his best to help you. You had grown fond of the mentor that you would later think of as an extension of your family. Peter had started out incredibly protective of you (newsflash, he never stopped being protective). You were 12 for crying out loud! He wasn’t going to throw you into the dangerous streets of New York to figure it all out. He saw how scared you were of your new found powers and what it meant for your future. He made it clear to you from the beginning that your life was never going to be normal or easy moving forward. He didn’t want to lie to you because while being a superhero looked like a lot of fun, it wasn’t always the case. Sacrifices would have to be made in your life for the sake of your anonymity and your loved ones’ safety.
After you got the hang of your basic spider powers (aka about two months), Peter started taking you on patrol with him. He barely let you be near a criminal. After months of patrolling and begging Peter to give you a chance, he let you have an ‘easy’ criminal. You had spent those months prior working out your suit. It differed from Peters iconic style which you admired but you wanted to stand out as your own. You had gone with a different color scheme; opting for black and white to keep it simple. Your insignia was white and was the statement of your suit, looking as if a big white spider was hugging your body. Your mask was something else that vastly differed from Peter’s. Normally, the point of a mask was to make sure your whole face was covered. Never being the type to go the conventional route, your mask covered your eyes, the top and side portions of your face. Besides, your e/c eyes were your most defining feature. Your mask went up to your hairline where it stopped so your hair was flowing in a pony of sorts. Your nose, mouth and ears visible. You had prototypes in which you did have a traditional mask like Peter’s but it was way too constricting and truthfully, you felt claustrophobic in the damn thing. Plus, you had added a heads up display into the mask so as to take calls from your family as well as being able to see in different spectrums of light. You were always tweaking the tech in your mask to add some new feature if you felt it made your superhero life slightly easier.
While Peter knew you could hold your own, he still kept a tight leash on you. While he told you life was going to be hard moving forward, he still wanted you to live your life. He didn’t want you to feel the weight of the world on your shoulders as you were still a kid. As he put it, he wanted you to savor the moments while you still had the opportunity to do so. To experience the things that define your childhood and build relationships that would balance out the hectic and soon to be somber life that came with being a Spider. You had confided in Peter about your friend, Miles. A friend you had drifted from since gaining your powers. Peter had told you that your loved ones would essentially need to be kept at arm’s length because they could possibly be used as leverage by enemies. The thought of your family or friends being caught up in all of it scared you and so you started distancing yourself from them. Your family didn’t get suspicious as they chalked it up to puberty hitting you hard. Peter could see first hand how much it hurt you to lie about such a big part of yourself to Miles, though. He knew your friendship would hit a bump as you tried to balance your hero and normal life.
Miles was different. You had loved the boy deeply. It wasn’t romantic. It was genuine, unconditional love between the two of you. Having grown up together made it easy to say ‘I love you’ and the bond the two of you shared over music and art was deeper than anything you had shared with anyone else. It hurt you when he had that concerned look on his face when he noticed a shift in your demeanor towards him. He was the first person to notice that you weren’t being yourself. That you were lost in something - he just couldn’t know what that was. You had tried to gradually distance yourself from him but it was hard. You two would still hang out but since you committed to your superhero life, you helped the city when you could - even if it meant sacrificing some precious moments with him. You were late to most of your hangouts. You were constantly coming up with half ass excuses and apologizing to him as to why you were late. You hated the look he got on his face every time you showed up late or blurted out an excuse. It hurt him and it didn’t make sense to Miles. He didn’t want to think you were outgrowing him as a friend.
“I’m sorry Miles. Got caught up with…homework.” You winced as you met his eyes.
He knew you were lying. He knew very well that the words coming out of your mouth were absolute bullshit. Your wincing was also cause you got into it with the bad guy of the week and didn’t necessarily walk away scotch free (which Peter scolded you about like the big brother he was).
“It’s alright. I know your family is just as hard on you about school like mine”
He always understood. That was the problem. He didn’t want to lose you so he accepted that whatever was going on with you, it didn’t involve him. He came to terms that maybe whatever you were going through, you wanted to do on your own. He knew you were stubborn like that. He just hoped that you would find your way back to him. His mom had told him that it happens in friendships. Some dissipate while others come back to you after straying for a moment.
As your friendship with Miles suffered the first year of getting your powers, you got the hang of your powers and helped out Peter whenever you could. You started small and as time passed, you showed Peter how valuable you were as a partner in this world. Sure, you had your fair share of mistakes, you were still a kid after all, but you learned from them and always got back up. That’s something you quickly picked up on about being a Spider - you always got back up.
Peter would always let you know if he could handle things on his own or if he was chasing down a lead that left you alone to patrol for a short period of time. Again, he tried to give you time off so you could be a kid. He didn’t mind the company but it was hard for him to see someone so young be thrown into his world. You appreciated the sweet moments you shared with Peter and always smiled when he sent you a text saying to enjoy your Friday night with friends and family because it was a quiet night in Brooklyn.
“Hey Pete?” you broke the comfortable silence you were sharing atop a deli the pair of you frequented on relatively quiet nights of patrolling. He had grabbed a sandwich for the two of you to split.
“Hm?” He hummed as took a bite of his sandwich.
“Thank you,”
“What for, arañita?” his Spanish wasn’t perfect but you loved that he tried and used the spider name you gave yourself.
“For y’know…taking me under your wing” you started, looking to your mentor with genuine love and admiration. “I know it wasn’t easy having to take me on” you chuckled as you bumped your relatively small knee with his bigger one.
“Hey now, where’s this coming from?” He softly knocked your knee in return as he faced you, worried that you were going through something.
“Nowhere! Can’t your awesome spider-pupil tell you she appreciates you without there being an ulterior motive?” you laughed as you took a bite of your sandwich.
At that, he had a smug grin which earned him a slightly harder bump from your knee to his.
“I don’t know…you usually butter me up before asking for something.”
“Well, this isn’t one of those times.” you laugh once more as you look out to the bustling skyline of New York and continue eating your sandwich with pure bliss.
Those were the moments you savored with Peter.
As the months rolled into a year, you oh so slowly began to almost successfully balance your hero and normal life. Your grades had slipped slightly when you got bit but they were on the up and up. Your friendship with Miles was very clearly hanging by a thread. Miles didn’t reach out to you as much and there were more moments of awkward silence between the two of you than you would’ve liked. It wasn’t normal for the two of you to not talk about something. You wanted to let him into your world. So badly. You knew that he would be happy for you and support you like the amazing friend he was. He wouldn’t tell you to quit, he’d tell you to keep going and keep fighting. He probably would help you with upgrading your suit. You hated that you couldn’t share that part of your life with him. It would put him at risk of being used against you. You didn’t want him to be used as some pawn in a villain’s eyes to get to you. Peter could see the toll the secrecy was having on you and tried his best to keep your mind off it if conversations trailed to that territory. It wasn’t like you hadn’t breached the subject of the new ‘Spider-Girl’ to him, though. You brought it up once to gauge his reaction to the whole idea.
“What do you make of the new Spider-Girl swinging around with Spider-man?” You mindlessly asked while scrolling through your phone as a distraction from the studying you and Miles were supposed to be doing.
“Mm, thought she went by Araña?…but not bad, I guess?” he answered, his eyes not leaving his notebook that had his class notes, waiting for his brain to actually absorb the information on the page.
A flutter of your heart. He knows your actual spider name!
“Her suit looks pretty cool..” you nonchalantly commented, your eyes quickly looking to him for a reaction.
“Does look cool with the black and white,” he smiled, his pencil now aimlessly doodling on the margins of his notes. “I think Spider-man’s training her ‘cause maybe he’s getting old…probably wants to hand the reigns to someone younger.” he continued.
“Think she’ll be good at it?”
“Oh yeah.”
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The Clone Wars 4.09 ‘Plan of Dissent’ Reaction Take 2
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I think out of all of the episodes from the Umbara arc, this is my favourite. If it’s possible to have a favourite with everything that happens. There’s so much of the clones themselves in this episode. So much of their interactions and personalities and characteristics and lives.
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Hello to Fives' very nice thighs and crotch. There’s just something about a clone lying on their back, legs splayed, knee bent, as they do mechanical work on the underneath of a ship. Insert your own references to the 2 nickels meme here. Also inserting the gif of Tech doing the exact same thing because I can.
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There are definitely moments where Fives voice gets husky and it is very nice. I am not complaining at all.
Obi-Wan is looking rather boxy there
Krell completely changes when he’s talking to someone with equal or more power than him. Slimy bastard.
I know they mean arms as in weapons but every time they say ‘arm’ all can picture is crates full of actual arms.
That tiny head shake from Rex. He is so done.
Ugh that look up from Rex. Ugh.
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Ahahahaha it definitely looks like Fives is about to burst into an earnest and deeply emotional ballad in the music video as part of his 90s boy band. So, the important questions are: Who are the rest of the members of this clone boy band? And what is their name? These things, I must know them.
Look at Rex’s big beautiful brown eyes there
Paused the episode only to realise Jesse has an exclamation mark on the front of his chest plate.
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Tup waving his space screwdriver grabby thingy around to make his point. I think it’s a calliper? It looks similar to the one Tech has on his belt or in one of his 2000 pockets. Just noticed Tup has the same hairline as Tech too.
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“I do think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake. I’ve never seen a General with these kind of casualties.” – I love this moment from Jesse. Especially because he doesn’t go after Dogma, he just calmly but firmly points out what isn’t right about this situation. The adorable nose scrunch is also out in full force.
“I don’t have a better plan.” Rex, you always have a better plan
Fives: Why don’t we just do the same thing we did before!
Lmao Fives’ little chaos face as he explains his plan
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Gif by @nickleister from this glorious post
REX THIGH
That ‘do it’ from Rex was very Palpatine of him
“Yeah, he wasn’t really flying. More like avoiding crashing.” Tup going for the jugular there
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Omg that was not subtle at all. “What’s going on?” “Eh, nothing.” *awkward*
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Oh, Rex and Fives are fighting. That line from Fives about them all being not just another number really hit home too.
I know this is supposed to be a serious moment and all that but omg Fives is built like an absolute unit. Boy is thicc.
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Well this is going well. Fives, why are you standing underneath the fighter that Hardcase is barely able to control?
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Fives: Hardcase, what are you doing?! Hardcase: If I knew, I wouldn’t be doing it! CACKLING
Who's the random clone helping out Fives and Hardcase? They’ve got different paint but I can’t tell who they are.
“Great, this can’t get much worse” Well now you’ve gone and jinxed it
Oh, so that’s where that shot of Fives standing there comes from. Who knew the absolute chaos that was going on behind as Fives stands there looking all gorgeous.
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Fives: “Nothing’s out of control down here.” Hardcase: *actively destroying everything*
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Omg the absolutely over the top agonised full eye and body roll that Fives gives while he draws out a long “Uh” to try and come up with a cover story for what they’re doing. 
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That has got to be a homage or reference to Han Solo doing basically the same thing in A New Hope.
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“That’s gonna leave a mark.” Hardcase, you just melted the door!
“No harm done.” Says Hardcase, standing amongst the ruin he has just created
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Absolutely losing it at Hardcase’s cover story for what they were getting up to. To be fair to him, he actually sold it fairly well and it was a decently believable cover story to come up with on the spot. Fives, on the other hand, cannot lie to save himself. Rex is not falling for his bullshit one bit.
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Aaaaaaaaaah Hardcase’s little wiggly sneaky fingers. You utterly adorable dork. He looks so pleased with his idea at the end too. It’s the best idea guys!
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Hardcase is in. He wants chaos.
Anakin telling Fives that the trick to taking out a control ship is to hit the main reactor from the inside? Well that’s totally not going to come back and bite him in his shiny black asthmatic arse in approximately 20 cycles or so. 
Jesse and Hardcase’s doubtful scrunched up faces as the listen to Fives’ “plan” are utterly adorable
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"I can’t help you, when you get caught." — That exchange between Fives and Rex definitely sounds like Rex has put up Fives’ crazy bullshit before. And you can tell how much Rex cares and knows this is the right thing to do yet he’s stuck and he can’t do anything to help them or protect them when the shit hits the fan.
If those fighters are supposed to be locked down, then why are they conveniently sitting outside?
I found this scene of Dogma and Tup in the barracks really uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to reserve judgement on Dogma and not be so harsh on him because I know what happens in the end and he seems like a fan favourite. But it really felt like he was bullying Tup into snitching on Fives, Jesse and Hardcase. I don’t know what Dogma and Tup’s connection to each other is. They seem fairly close so I’m going with close or best friends, if not batch mates. I know Dogma thinks he’s doing the right thing (I know, please don’t come at me) but it felt really uncomfortable watching him bully his best friend/batch mate and vod into doing what he wanted. I think I’m reacting to this so much because I relate to Tup so much. The constant anxious worry. Being bullied and peer pressured into doing things you don’t want to do (hello school trauma). Out of everything that has happened, and a lot of truly awful things happen in this arc, it felt like this was the worst thing Dogma did. Even if he didn’t mean it, that doesn’t excuse it. 
Paused the episode at the start of the next scene and Rex is standing there in the dark looking down at his datapad and fuck me is he a tall glass of water.
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The look on Rex’s face when he sees Fives, Jesse and Hardcase fly off in the fighters! I mentioned this in my first reaction post but man, is that a multi-layered expression. Deep long suffering at putting up with their bullshit. Admiration and respect that the crazy bastards went and did it. Worry and concern about what they’re about to do and how they’re all going to deal with the fall out. And probably a bit of satisfaction and amusement that it’s going to piss off Krell.
“I’m just doing it for fun!” Hardcase knows what he’s about
Well that’s a shit fight
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Is that a blimp?
Fives, telling Hardcase not to get an itchy trigger finger is like telling you not to be a chaotic little shit. Utterly pointless
Omg the supply ship is even sphere shaped, just with a giant rectangle in the middle. It’s just a B-grade Death Star.
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“I’m sure the report will make your strategy more effective.” Rex you sly bastard
So I know everyone says clones can’t lie to save themselves but Rex was pretty damn believable right there, covering for Fives, Jesse and Hardcase. It didn’t feel like a cover story that was made up on the spot either, so Rex had to have come up with it already. He knew they were going to go off on their own hair brained mission, and, even though he was disagreeing with Fives, he still came up with a way to cover for them and protect them as best he could. So he’s bloody smart and cares deeply too. Ugh, I love him so much.
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Rex running interference for Fives, Jesse and Hardcase
“Regarding, what?” CACKLING
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” asdf;lkj why are you so badass. Though it does feel sad that all of this has started to pit the clones against each other. And doesn’t that come back in an even worse way later on.
Oh look, it’s a trench run to a reactor! I wonder where we’ve seen this before!
That tactical droid didn’t consider Fives in his equations
Oh man as soon as Hardcase’s fighter got hit, that was the moment you knew he wasn’t coming back. 
That gesture Fives made to stop his fighter made him look like he was using the Force
Nooooo Hardcase what are you doing
“This is for the 501st. Don’t wait for me.” *sobs*
Hardcase calls Fives sir. Again, I am baffled as to what the rank system is here, though I’m assuming ARC Troopers are at least above standard clone troopers in some way?
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“If I know Hardcase, we better leave.” That speaks to a lot of experience with Hardcase making things going boom
“Live to fight another day.” Dammit now I can’t see the screen through the tears. Hardcase had a little happy smile on his face too.
Guys, you only blew up half of it! Though I should imagine the rest of it went up too.
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That smirk from Rex. He knew.
Very interesting that Tup’s here with Rex. I wonder if Rex took him aside after intercepting him and Dogma or if Tup came to Rex.
It’s a tiny moment but Fives jumps out of the fighter and there’s a shot of his feet and legs landing on the ground and his kama is swooshing around his legs looking all badass
Rex’s look of concern when he sees only Fives and Jesse. He knew.
Oh Hardcase
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It’s an equally blink and you’ll miss it moment but this is where that gif of Rex glaring over his shoulder comes from. I think this is going to be like the “On your knees” moment for me. Definitely hot in isolation but now knowing that Fives and Jesse just told Rex and Tup that Hardcase died, it’s going to take me a while to separate what’s happening in the moment from the hot glare.
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Rex trying to take the blame for Fives and Jesse and then Fives refusing to accept this and making sure Rex and Jesse don’t get hurt and the agonised way Rex says “Fives!” and Jesse’s worried expression the whole time and just aaaaaaaaaaah *pained noises*
“Oh, do you?” I hate Krell even more. Piss off you overblown bullfrog
Being executed for disobeying orders seems way too steep. I could understand being reprimanded but shooting someone because they didn’t do what they were told? At least Krell gets what’s coming from him in the end.
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kybercrystals94 · 5 months
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Where Fears Are Born
By KyberCrystals94
Read here on Ao3!
(posting this on tumblr in preparation for my sequel that I’m about to post on here! 😄)
Bad Things Happen Bingo | Prompt: And I Must Scream
Rating: G
Words: 232
Summary: The reason the Batch develops a fear of spiders (a prequel to @just-here-with-my-thoughts’ Phobia)
TW: Arachnophobia
“Tech, shut it off!”
“I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to touch the screen!”
“Ugh, for kark's sake,” Crosshair said, snatching the offending data pad out of Tech’s lap. He deftly exited out of the program and dropped it back into its place.
Tech shoved it away as though it were one of the arachnids that had swarmed the woman in the film. Crowded together, shoulder to shoulder, the four cadets stared at the dark data pad now innocently nestled in the rumpled sheets of Tech’s bunk.
“That was definitely not a documentary,” Hunter said, shooting his bespectacled brother a disdainful look.
“The description was deceptively vague,” Tech protested, “How should I have known it was of the horror genre?”
“I’m never watching anything you download again,” Wrecker whimpered, pressing closer to Crosshair. “Are you sure there’s none of those spider things on Kamino?”
“None are native to this planet,” Tech said.
Crosshair smiled wickedly. “Doesn’t mean troopers don’t accidentally bring some back with them when they’ve been off planet. I’m sure there’s all sorts of spiders in the city not native to Kamino.”
“Stop it, Crosshair,” Hunter scolded, but the way his voice shook a little made Crosshair chuckle darkly.
“I bet they crawl under the doors of the barracks and hide in our beds,” Crosshair continued, wriggling his fingers.
“You have no way of knowing that is true.” Despite his own statement, Tech hugged his arms around himself and glanced around his bunk.
“And you,” Crosshair returned, “have no way of knowing it’s not .”
“Stop it!” Hunter said again, more firmly. “If it will help Tech and Wrecker sleep better, we can check all the beds.”
“Me sleep better?” cried Tech indignantly. “I’m not scared.”
“I’m not either,” Wrecker declared.
Crosshair carefully reached around and brushed one fingertip across the back of Hunter’s exposed neck, just at his hairline. The undignified shriek that emitted as a result sent Wrecker and Tech into a panic alongside, and before Crosshair even had a chance to inhale in order to laugh at them, all three of his brothers were all the way across the room.
“That wasn’t funny!” Hunter squawked, even as he pawed frantically at his neck, searching for the nonexistent, 8 legged creature.
“You’re right,” Crosshair gasped between fits of laughter, “It was hilarious!”
Tech pointed at him. “You are a fiend.”
“Was there actually a spider?” Wrecker asked, taking a step away from Hunter.
“No,” Hunter growled, scrunching his shoulders to resist the urge to continue his search, “It was just Crosshair.”
“This time,” Crosshair admitted. “Next time...it will be the real thing. Crawling in your blankets, in your hair, in your ears...”
“That’s it,” Hunter said decisively, “We are stripping all the bunks and checking for spiders.”
No one argued and set to work.
Crosshair didn’t help.
<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>
“What are you doing?”
Crosshair looked up from where he was carefully releasing a spider in Hunter’s bunk, trying to coax the little thing to climb the wall. “Shh,” Crosshair hissed, “Hunter’ll hear you.”
“Why are you doing that?” Echo reiterated, crossing his arms.
“Because it’s funny, di’kut. Now, shut your mouth.”
Echo frowned, but quietly watched as Crosshair finished his task. When the sniper stood upright, he grabbed Echo by the arm and pulled him off the ship and a good thirty feet away from the door.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re putting a spider in Hunter’s rack?” Echo asked, keeping his voice low.
Crosshair put on an air of faux patience. “It’s a little something some of us call a prank .”
Echo rolled his eyes. “I know what a prank is. But why a spider? Is Hunter scared of spiders?”
“Terrified,” Crosshair said with a rare smile. “They all are. Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech. We accidentally watched a stupid horror holo as cadets about spiders. Tech thought it was a documentary when he downloaded it.”
“So, what, you’ve terrorized them ever since?”
Crosshair shrugged. “It’s a good way to pass the time.”
Suddenly, chaos erupted from the Marauder, raised voices tangling over each other. Three full-grown men, some of the greatest commandos in the GAR, thundered down the ramp of the ship. Crosshair and Echo approached the trembling trio.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong” Crosshair sounded convincingly concerned, the edge of his usual sneer present but tamed.
Hunter bellowed, “Get it out!”
“Get what out?” Crosshair asked, eyes narrowed with uncomprehending innocence.
Echo had to bite the inside of his cheek avoid smiling.
“There’s a kriffing spider in my rack!” Hunter said, pointing emphatically back at the door.
Crosshair rolled his eyes. “It probably came in on your armor.”
The color drained from Hunter’s face, but he managed to bluster on in his best sergeant's tone. “I don’t care how it got there. Get. It. Out.”
Crosshair held up his hands placably. “Alright, alright.” He started to amble up the steps. “Hope it’s not poisonous. Are you sure you didn’t get bit, Hunter?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Hunter snapped, but the doubt in his voice was palpable.
Crosshair disappeared into the ship.
Echo waited with Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech – all three of them carefully avoiding eye contact. He’d only been with Clone Force 99 for a few weeks, and it was their first time planet side with any downtime. He wondered if this happened often.
“Creepy little things,” Echo observed casually. “Spiders.”
Tech looked annoyed. “Depending on the species, arachnids can be deadly,” he intoned.
“What species was this one?” Echo asked.
Tech shifted, his eyes finding something interesting to look at past Echo’s shoulder. “I didn’t get a good look at it, so it would be impossible to say.”
“Ah,” Echo said, nodding. “Hope Crosshair doesn’t get bit then. Just in case.”
“He knows how to properly dispose of them,” Tech said.
“That’s good,” Echo said.
Tangible, awkward silence followed. Echo enjoyed every second of it.
Crosshair came out of the Marauder with an unreadable look on his face. “I couldn’t find that spider anywhere. Pulled your whole bunk apart,” he said to Hunter. “Are you sure it was there?”
“Yes! We all saw it!” Wrecker sounded absolutely distraught.
Crosshair frowned. “I don’t know what you want me to do then. I can’t find the thing anywhere.” Echo noticed Crosshair’s loosely balled fist.
Reluctantly, grudgingly, depressingly, the three traumatized soldiers exchanged glances before trudging up the ramp to resume their tasks. Crosshair shook out his hand, and a little spider fell out, skittering away on frantic legs.
“You are a monster,” Echo said with a smile and a shake of his head.
Crosshair chuckled. “You’ll keep my secret?”
“Not my secret to tell,” Echo said. “But don’t expect me to participate.”
“You already did by not telling them what you saw,” Crosshair said with a devilish grin. “You’re in this now too. And if I go down, you’re going down with me.”
END
Tag List: @isthereanechoinhere96 @followthepurrgil @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69
✨Let me know if you’d like to be added to the Tag List!✨
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silentwillowwhisperer · 9 months
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Just throw 'em back
I thought of that title, and now I'm singing Chandelier in my head at a very unreasonable volume for telepathic singing.
Ummmmmmmmm this includes consumption of alcohol and getting drunk. No one is underage if that bothers you.
This is right after the Klance sunset scene.
-----------------------------------
Now. We all know what happened during Allura and Lance's date.
We can also assume that while it was happening, Pidge was doing tech-stuff, Hunk was cooking, and Coran was doing generally Coran-ish things.
Keith however, was not.
He was laying in a dark dorm room with his head stuffed in a pillow. He didn't know why he tortures himself like this. He had just given a pep talk to his CRUSH so that his CRUSH would be confident to go out with a GIRL.
Ugh, making reasonable life decision sucks.
Shiro, of course, has been through his fair share of gay dilemmas. His psychic dad sense clued him into Keith's situation.
"Hey... rough day?"
Keith just grunted into his pillow, which meant 'yes' to Shiro.
"Dang, that bad? It this a non-existent love life problem or something else? 'Cuz I can help you with the first one."
Keith flopped over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling. After a minute, he held up one finger. That, or he was just flipping Shiro off, but Shiro was trying to be optimistic here.
"You've gotta help me out a bit here, bro. Do you want advice or a distraction?"
Keith decided to finally pipe up.
"Give me a pep talk and I will not hesitate to shove a knife down your throat."
Shiro held his hands up. Keith didn't respond, so he just picked the guy up and hauled him to his car. There was no protest from the black paladin, but that tends to happen when a guy rejects you without even realizing that he's doing it.
An hour later, they arrived at a small bar in the closest town to the garrison.
Seeing their destination, Keith finally I dropped for a moment to raise an eyebrow at Shiro.
Shiro just shrugged with a crooked grin on his face. “You passed the drinking age in space. I figured we could have your first real drink before going back out to the war. None of that disgusting Nunville stuff Coran offers us.”
Long story short, Keith has had 3 (or was it 4?) shots and Shiro is hanging on to Keith’s shoulders to keep his balance. He was a bit too enthusiastic, and the only noises that leave his mouth now are garbled, slurred words.
Drunk Shiro seems determined to give Keith a talk, though.
“I remember my first boyfriend. He was cute. But soooo straight. He smelled like water.”
Keith’s brow shoots up to his hairline.
“What are going on about, Shiro? Are you really gonna do this now? Also, how does someone smell like water?”
Shiro raises his prosthetic arm to Keith’s face in a poor attempt to shush him, but his lack of coordination leads him wack Keith across the face.
“Shhhh shshshshh. Let me brother you. What I’m trying to say is, cute guys are straight sometimes. So instead of wallowing in self-pity, you RIOT! You gotta go up to his dumb face and FESS UP. He flirts with literally anyone! He has to at least bisexual. And if you fail and humiliate yourself, we can watch Pitch Perfect together in a dark room and eat too much ice cream and I can yell at him for you. Alright?”
Keith shakes his head with a small laugh. Even drunk Shiro has his dumb way of cheering Keith up. And, who knows? Maybe his advice is halfway decent.
——————-
I don’t even know what that was. But listen to Shiro, kids! If you’re queer and you know it, then OWN IT! I believe in you, my loves!!
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miracleonice87 · 2 years
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lady (part two to big, big plans) - with Sidney Crosby
a/n: based on the song Lady by Brett Young. this story picks up a couple of weeks after big, big plans ended. lyrics in italics indicate jumps forward in time.
warnings: swearing, alcohol. basically all about pregnancy, babies, childbirth, etc. (my brand), so if those topics are triggering, please skip this one! complete and total fluff with just a tiny touch of angst. Sid as a dad to a newborn should also come with a warning, so here you go. 
word count: ~4,000
_____
I remember when I first heard your heartbeat
It had only been eight weeks
Standing there, starin' at that screen
Was the first time you ever scared me…
Holy. Shit.
Sid blew out a deep breath, both your hands wrapped tightly around one of his for where he stood next to you at the exam table. The whooshing noise thumping through his ears seemed to reverberate from his chest to his toes. A strong, steady beat. His baby’s heartbeat. Your baby’s heartbeat. He was sure he would never hear a more beautiful sound. 
“Wow,” you whispered as your eyes remained fixed on the screen, the image little more than a nondescript, imperfect circle at this eight-week mark. Tears dripped down your temples and you finally turned your head to see the wonder and bewilderment on Sid’s face. Your always calm, ever collected partner had never looked more rattled. 
“Oh, my god,” he muttered, raising his eyebrows as his lips pulled into an awestruck smile. “That’s our baby.” 
You nodded and your tears continued to fall freely. He raised your joined hands and pressed his lips to your knuckles, his free hand finding your head, thumb gently stroking your hairline. 
“Our baby,” you repeated, giggling sweetly. “We’re really having a baby.” 
Sid nodded and bent at the waist to kiss your forehead. 
“Oh, my god,” he said again, chuckling against your skin. 
The technician smiled at the two of you and said, “I’ll make copies of the pictures we’ve taken here today. How many would you like?” 
Just as you said “maybe three,” Sid said, “ten, please,” and you glanced at him in amusement. He gave you a confused look. 
“What do you mean?” he scoffed. Counting on his fingers, he continued. “Me, you, our parents, Taylor, your sister, Mario and Nathalie-” 
You cut him off, placing a hand on his forearm, and looked back to the tech. 
“However many you typically give is fine,” you gently assured. She smiled warmly. 
“Ten copies, coming right up,” she said. “Sit tight.” 
Sidney thanked her as she left the room, then his lips were on yours in a flash. You smiled into his passionate kiss, a gesture uncharacteristic of him in a public place, even when there wasn’t anyone else immediately in the vicinity. 
“Are you excited?” you asked against his lips. He hummed affirmatively. 
“What tipped you off?” he teased, earning a giggle. He guided you to an upright position on the table and cupped your cheek. “You’re doing the most incredible thing for us. I’m amazed. And I’m also completely terrified,” he admitted, less proudly.
You slid your hand to rest on his shoulder. “I am, too, in a way,” you confirmed. Your smile grew significantly as you added, “but I think we’re gonna fucking rock this ‘being parents’ thing, babe.” 
Sidney studied you intently. “You think so?” he asked seriously, smoothing his thumb across your cheekbone. 
You nodded. “I really do, Sid,” you promised. “And I wouldn’t wanna do this with anybody else.”
He leaned in for another kiss, finding comfort in you as he always did, which was more important than ever as you faced your biggest challenge to date. But you’d greet it head first, together, and he’d have you – he knew beyond a doubt that that would be more than enough. 
God knows I don't know
Exactly what I'm doin', but
Good news, we got her to get through it…
“No, Sid, this piece goes up here… like… this. I think.”
“Tanger, that makes no sense. It should go down here and then come across like… wait.”
You rolled your eyes and tried to stifle a laugh at the conversation happening in your guest room-turned-nursery just down the hall from your bedroom. As you entered the room and sat down the basket of freshly washed newborn clothes on the plush rocking chair, Sid looked up at you wide-eyed.
“Did you just carry that basket up the steps by yourself?” Sid asked, mild frustration evident in his voice. 
You stepped closer to him, trying to distract him by sinking your fingers into the soft curls atop his head as he sat on the floor. 
“I’m six months pregnant, babe. Not an invalid,” you said, trying your best to sound nonchalant. 
“That’s a non-answer,” Sidney pointed out, though he leaned into your touch. 
“Uh oh,” Kris mumbled as he busied himself inspecting the crib pieces, sensing that he was about to become witness to a spat, the sort with which, after two kids of his own, he was all too familiar. He knew better than nearly anyone how tense and stressed Sid got when big things were going on – Cup runs, big trades, injuries. But nothing could compare to how big this was – welcoming his first baby with you. 
The stress of it was nearly enough to drive the man to the brink. He waited on you hand and foot, barely let you out of his sight, and had forced his way into taking over nearly all of the household chores, including laundry, since finding out you were pregnant. He had given you explicit instructions not to carry the laundry baskets up the steps and to let him do it instead… but of course, you were just as stubborn as he, and attempted to sweep under the rug your blatant ignorance of his wishes in favor of surveying the progress the men had made on the baby’s crib… or, rather, the lack thereof. 
“I take it things aren’t going so well in here,” you said evenly. 
Sid sighed, sitting back and reaching up one hand to cradle your ever-rounding bump. 
“Could be going better,” he mumbled. You bit your lip to keep from smirking at his admission – if there was one thing Sidney didn’t take well to, it was failure at something. At anything.
“Kris, we invited you over because we thought you’d have experience with this type of thing,” you pointed out, giggling. 
Kris held up his hands in his own defense. 
“Hey, it’s been years now since I’ve had to put together a crib!” he argued. “The technology has already evolved.” 
You snorted, lightly scratching at Sidney’s head to get him to look up at you. 
“How about we just hire someone to do this?” you asked gently. 
“No, I’m gonna finish this if it kills me,” Sid replied adamantly. “I should be able to put together my baby’s crib.” 
You held up your other hand in concession. 
“Okay, whatever you say,” you said. “I’ll bring you a couple more beers and then I think I’ll take a nap.” 
Sid kissed your stomach and squeezed your hip. 
“Deal, as long as you’re gonna rest,” he said. “And don’t you worry – we’re gonna figure this out.” 
“I have no doubt,” you assured, bending as best you could to peck his lips. “Oh, and I’m pretty sure that piece you’re holding is the top railing,” you added innocently before heading to the kitchen. 
Your statement was followed by a few seconds of silence, then you heard a “hmph” from Sid and an indignant exclamation from Kris – “I told you so!” 
You were awoken later by the fading light of dusk filtering in through your bedroom windows. You sat up with a yawn, propped against your oversized pregnancy pillow, and found Sid sitting in a chair across the room on his laptop. 
“Hi,” you greeted groggily with a small smile. 
He lifted his head and instantly beamed at you. 
“There’s my girl,” he said, setting his computer aside and crossing the room to join you. “How’d you sleep?” he asked as he sat down on the edge of the bed, kissing your temple. 
You sighed contentedly. “Actually so good,” you said. Sid’s grin grew wider – he knew how hard sleep had been to come by for you as you neared the end of your second trimester. 
“That’s great, babe,” he said. “I didn’t wanna wake you, but… I have a surprise for you.” 
You raised your eyebrows. “The crib is done?!” you asked with excitement. 
Sid shrugged, feigning innocence. “I dunno, you better come see,” he said. 
He eased you off the bed and led you down the hallway to the new nursery, where the door was closed. You turned to him with a curious look. 
“I’m gonna cover your eyes, okay?” he asked, and you nodded as he stepped behind you, placing one hand over your eyes and opening the door with the other. “Just follow my lead. Take a step… careful.” 
He guided you further into the room, and you squealed in surprise when your feet found a fluffy surface beneath them, in contrast to the hardwood that had been bare just hours ago. 
You heard the smile in his voice as Sid said, “ready… and… open.”
You gently pried his hand from your face and immediately gasped at the scene before you. Earlier today, the only signs that a baby girl was on her way were the blush pink paint on the walls, the rocking chair passed down from your grandmother’s house, and the unassembled crib components scattered on the floor. Since then, the room had been transformed into the coziest place in your home. You took in the details that had been added only today – the white faux fur rug beneath your feet, the changing table on one side of the room and the long-awaited crib on the other, the ruffled curtains on the windows, the shelves that held an assortment of children’s books and stuffed animals along with a framed copy of a recent ultrasound picture and a photo of you and Sid, and, maybe your favorite of all, the pink neon sign that read “Baby Crosby” lighted above the crib. 
The tears escaped you as though someone had turned on a faucet, and you could only sob as Sid wrapped his arms tightly around your chest from behind. 
Though he knew they were tears of joy, Sidney still felt anxious as you cried hard, and he turned you around to cradle you against himself as he soothingly rubbed at your back. 
“Shhh, honey,” he cooed. “Breathe for me, okay?” he chuckled. 
You pulled back from him with a teary giggle, nodding. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you said, trying to gather yourself. “I’m okay, I swear.” 
Sidney smiled, smoothing his hands up and down your arms. “Don’t apologize, babe,” he said, kissing the bridge of your nose. “I knew this might be a little overwhelming, but I just wanted to make it special for you.”
You splayed a hand across your chest, staring again at all of the thoughtful additions to the room. 
“Special doesn’t even begin to cover it, Sid,” you said dreamily as your eyes found him again. “How did you even do all of this?!” 
He grinned proudly. “I actually called in some reinforcements,” he said. “I didn’t feel right asking for people to buy you things for a baby shower or anything, so I asked our parents and our sisters to each pick out a certain piece, and I ordered everything and hid all the boxes in the shed. So…” he turned you again in his arms, his solid chest pressed to your back as he pointed out various elements of the room. “Your dad picked out the books, some of the ones you loved most when you were little. Your mom picked out the curtains, because she said they reminded her of the ones from your and your sister’s old room.” Your heart warmed – you realized the curtains were almost identical to the ones you used to have. “My mom picked out the changing table because she knows you’re picky about storage, just like she is. My dad picked out the stuffed animals – a little Louky he found from Rimouski, a yellow lab because he knows how much we loved Sam, and a penguin because, well… obviously.” You laughed together as he smoothed his foot over the furry rug. “Your sister picked the rug because she said you had it saved on Pinterest. And my sister chose the shelves and the framed photos because she said it’s the best she can do until the baby comes and she can take real family photos of us.” You hummed happily. “And… the sign is a gift from me.” 
You turned toward him once more, your hand resting on his cheek, tears filling your eyes again. 
“How can I even begin to say thank you for this, Sid?” you whispered, shaking your head in amazement, humbled by his gesture of tenderness, thoughtfulness, and pure love. 
Sidney, too, shook his head. “How do I even begin to say thank you for this?” he asked, his hand finding your belly on the final word. “This is truly the least I could do. And listen, there are still plenty of finishing touches for you to add – sheets and blankets and artwork and stuff – but if there’s anything you wanna take back, we can easily return-”
You silenced him with a kiss, though pushing yourself up on your toes took a bit more effort these days. He smiled against your lips, and your hand found the back of his neck to keep him close. When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours. 
“This is perfect,” you whispered. “It’s better than I could have ever dreamed. Thank you, babe.”
Sid smiled proudly. “I love you,” he whispered back. “And our girl.” 
You nodded, resting your head on his chest as you soaked in the moment you knew would live as a sweet memory in your soul forevermore. 
I hope you look just like your momma
And love her like I do
You'll see close to perfect patience
If you watch her every move…
Sid had never been happier to miss an All-Star game. 
The official reason given by the team was that Sid was dealing with a hand injury that would have prevented him from playing in the game. The truth was, when the roster was released, Sid approached the Pens training staff and confirmed that, yes, he still did have a bruised hand from blocking a shot a week ago, but he would be prepared to play through it after the break. Just… not during. 
Knowing that you were now well into your pregnancy, plus noting in conversations with management that there truly was no reason to push Sid’s hand injury by playing in a meaningless game, the training staff deferred to the captain, who did not travel to sunny Florida that week after all. 
Instead, he spent the week in snowy Pittsburgh with you, and he had never been happier about a decision. (Well, almost never.) 
The break was spent putting the finishing touches on the nursery, organizing all the smaller items you’d gotten from your recent baby showers, and relaxing together, both one-on-one and with friends from the team who had also stayed in town. Sid’s number one priority was spoiling the hell out of you. 
Your favorite part of each day was simply laying together before bed, whether you were scrolling your phones, watching reruns of Friends, or reading, as you had been doing this evening. 
Sid emerged from the bathroom after taking a break from his thousand-page history of World War II ships to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. You heard him chuckle softly and saw him shaking his head as you lowered your copy of The Stranger Beside Me by Ann Rule, about her complicated friendship with Ted Bundy. 
“What?” you inquired, smirking. “What are you giggling about, mister?”
He let out an amused sigh and stretched out onto the bed on his stomach, reaching out his hand to rub soothingly over your bump, as was his most frequent habit as of late. He used his other hand to prop up his head. 
“I just don’t know how you read these terrifying books period, let alone while you’re carrying our child,” he said, simultaneously amazed and horrified. “I would never sleep.”
You shrugged. “Well I like them,” you said stubbornly. 
Sidney smiled at your obstinance, egging you on. “Our baby’s going to come out wanting to hear nursery rhymes about serial killers,” he joked. 
You rolled your eyes and set the book aside. “Better than asking for one about military ships,” you murmured, curling your fingers into Sid’s thick, slightly salt-and-pepper hair. 
He scoffed. “She’s going to know all about them anyway,” he insisted. “I’ll make sure of it.” Sid turned his attention back to your belly, flexing the pads of his fingertips against your middle.
“What do you think, little one? Are you gonna read military books like Dad when you’re bigger? Hmm? Or are you gonna read those weird true crime books like Mama?” 
“What if she’s into science? Or philosophy?” you suggested. 
He offered his sweet crooked smile  “Even better,” he replied. Then, pressing his lips to your stomach he murmured, “Then she’ll be smarter than us both.”
You smiled, too, and rested your head back against your pillows, growing sleepy at Sid’s repeated movements. You stroked his smooth cheek with your thumb.
“I hope she has your eyes,” you whispered dreamily. 
Sid shook his head. “Nah… I hope she looks just like her mama,” he rebutted, picking up your hand to press a kiss to your wrist. 
Those were the last words you heard before you drifted to sleep, still smiling. 
She'll hear you, she'll hold you, she'll help you through
She'll fix you, and me too…
This was far from the birth either of you had anticipated. 
After your water broke in the early hours of a frigid March morning, Sidney had loaded your bags into his vehicle and cautiously made his way to Magee Women’s, the route familiar after nine months of regular trips to the Oakland hospital. Traffic at this time of day was virtually nonexistent, and getting checked into your labor and delivery room was, thankfully, a breeze. 
The morning started easily, with you still able to laugh and talk between light contractions, even calling your and Sidney’s parents yourself to give them the exciting news that their first grandchild would soon be making her arrival. Your strength and calm made Sid feel strong and calm himself. 
Until that evening, when you had been pushing for three hours but you weren’t making any progress at all. Sid could feel the anxiety gripping his heart as he watched you writhe in pain. Though he had never witnessed a birth, he got the sense that this was not “the norm.” His concern only grew as he watched your doctor send a pointed, knowing expression to the nurse standing by your bed, who was now reaching for an oxygen tank and mask, handing it to you and calmly instructing you to put the mask over your nose and breathe normally. You did so with trembling fingers, your eyes wide with fear. 
Suddenly, a chorus of beeping alarms was chirping, lights flashing on every screen and monitor in the room. The nurse herself pressed the call button on your remote which brought two other nurses into the room. 
No, Sid thought as he stared down at you, wide-eyed behind the oxygen mask. No, no. It isn’t supposed to be this way.
“Fetal heart rate’s dropping,” one nurse said, moving from one monitor to inspect the paper report trailing out from another.  
No. No, no, no. 
“Mom’s blood pressure is spiking,” another nurse said, reaching for her stethoscope. 
No. No. 
“I think baby’s shoulders are stuck, Mama,” the doctor explained, her voice gentle but still thick with a distinct urgency. “This is gonna hurt, and it’s not going to be easy. I’m sorry. We’ve gotta get baby out now. I need you to stay calm for me and focus on pushing as hard as you can, okay?” 
With one arm lifting your shoulders off the bed and the other hand clasped tightly between both your own, Sidney focused all of his attention on you. 
“You’re doing it, babe,” he encouraged, pressing his forehead to the side of your head. “You’re doing so well, sweet girl. Almost there.” He heard his own voice wavering even as he forced himself to put on brave and steady front for you. 
You moved the oxygen mask away from your face, your hands shaking even more now. “It’s… so hard!” you panted, head slumping back against the flimsy pillow. 
Sidney nodded, squeezing your knee. “I know it is, babe,” he sympathized. “I can’t even imagine. But you’ve got this, okay? You do.” 
You looked at him, sniffling, the most pitiful expression on your face. “It hurts, Sid,” you cried. “It hurts so bad.”
His throat tightened at your admission – you had a high pain tolerance, and past that, you never, ever complained. He knew that this was the worst pain of your life, and he wished more than anything that he could bear it for you instead. 
“I know, honey, I know,” he soothed, blinking back tears of his own. “But you’re almost done, okay? Our baby is almost here – she’ll be here so soon. Right?” 
You nodded, frowning, your breath coming in slow, uneven gasps. 
“Right,” he answered himself, positioning the oxygen mask back over your nose and mouth. “So listen – let’s take some deep breaths and get ready to bring her here to us. Okay?” 
You responded immediately to his coaching, pursing your lips to control your breathing as you’d both learned in the many birthing classes you’d attended over the past several months. You knew he was right. No matter the unexpected circumstances, you were made for this – you could do this. And you would, with Sidney right beside you, supporting you each step of the way. 
“Okay,” you whispered, feeling the urge to push again. “Okay, I’m ready.”
Sid lifted your shoulders so that you were in a crunch position once again. “Good girl,” he praised as the nurse counted you through your pushing. “That’s my girl.” 
You can always run to daddy
You'll always be my baby, but
Look at her, baby girl
And you'll learn how to be a lady…
Saylor Paige Crosby arrived after four full hours of pushing, her dramatic birth not at all representative of her laid-back nature. She barely whimpered during those first sacred hours after her birth, save for when she was hungry. Her proud grandparents “ooh”d and “ahh”d over her sweet disposition and soft coos, and could barely pull themselves away for the night when the nurse gently reminded them that visiting hours were long over. They reluctantly said their goodbyes, and before they had even made their way out of the maternity ward, Sid turned around to find you already sleeping peacefully. 
He smiled softly to himself, Saylor tucked in one arm, and pulled the covers up to your shoulders with his free hand, bending down to press a light kiss to your forehead. He backed away from you silently and took a seat in the recliner at the end of the bed, focusing once again on Saylor. 
“You and Mama had a long day, huh?” he rasped, smoothing one hand over the blanket tightly wrapped around the baby’s form. “She’s so strong, baby girl,” he added incredulously. “She didn’t even swear at me while she was bringing you here,” he added with a wry grin. “I think that’s pretty good.” 
He sighed deeply, looking up again at your sleeping form. 
“You’ve both been through so much today,” he said, looking back to Saylor. “But you’re here now, huh? You’re here, and you’re safe, and you’re the most beautiful little girl in the world.” He traced a finger over his daughter’s familiar features. “Yes, you are. And I was right about one thing,” he continued, beaming. “You look just like her. Lucky girl.” He pulled the hospital-issued cap, complete with a giant bow, down further to cover Saylor’s ears. “The luckiest girl, to have her as your mama. She’s the most wonderful person in the world, with the kindest heart. She loves you more than anything, Say. I can promise you that,” he said, sniffling, swiping at the stray tears that had fallen. “And I know you’ll love her like I do.” 
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feltpool · 2 years
Text
I have no idea how to title this one
But I’m clearing out some of the thoughts in my head about the Bad Batch show based on my own constantly wandering train of thought.
Maybe it contains spoilers, maybe I’m talking utter nonsense, only time will tell, but either way read on at your own risk.
This is the only warning of potentially spoilery contents under the cut you’re getting.
Back in April, shortly after I posted my thoughts on Dogma, I was scrolling through Tumblr when I happened across a gif set which spurred the following rambling to a mutual of mine:
Tech has a more extreme version of Tup's hairline I don't think anyone wants to hear me attempt to suggest that Tech is zombie Tup though :D Not until Halloween at least I might have to remember it for that actually . I could definitely argue it though Brain dead, no physical injuries Weird as shit hairline Willingness for Hunter to listen to him without question because he remembers the man he used to be The hair colour difference could be a mutation caused by the Kams interference The accent plugged into him by automatic process, and not by learning it himself . Oh crap. Is Tech Tup? I mean, I was joking.  But…
And this is a ludicrous sounding concept, I’m well aware of that, but bear with me for a moment.
Because horror isn’t the only genre the writers have been stealing from here.
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We all saw Tup die – didn’t we?
Not only did we all see that happen, but it happened in Nala Se’s med bay with her standing Right. There.
And we don’t linger on the scene of his death (which I’m not complaining about, poor man just died) so we have no clue how fast she might have wheeled him into the freezer or pumped him full of drugs to stave off physical decay but since Palpatine later says his personal physicians examined his body he was definitely and absolutely dead, or his doctors suck at their job to a truly incredible level.
But we have no real idea of just what the Kaminoans technologies are capable of accomplishing at this point in time.
They churn out clones in their millions and we just accept that and move on. But resurrecting the dead is way outside of anything that we’ve seen them do at any point, even if we know that Dead Troopers are something the Empire created later on, according to Legends sources.
We’re told that the Batch are ‘enhanced’ clones with no explanation of what that actually means, and we accept that and move on too.
But what does it mean? By what exact process are these clones genetically ‘enhanced’?
If this squad of clones were standard troopers to begin with how are they now taller, paler, stronger, etc than they used to be? (Obviously I have ideas about this, they gave us a big enough hint reference on Bora Vio after all and the movie they culled that from is obvious enough if you’ve seen it)
I’m not seeing any future in nice answers to any of these questions, but then I never really have.
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Does all of this explain why Nala Se was SO adamant about wanting to murder and autopsy Tup rather than trying to remove the chip and give him a chance at survival, no matter how fleeting it might be? Fives could not only have exposed what had been tested out on Republic property but also have had this perfect test subject stolen right out from under her nose, and the longer she had to wait to get her hands on him the more damage could accumulate and the less use he might be.
Look at it like that and it makes a lot more sense that she injected Fives with whatever was in that syringe. Not for Lord Tyranus, or the Chancellor, or for keeping the head chips secret, just to guard her own back.
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Dead man walking is a bold claim though, isn’t it?
Normally yes, but in this case I’m not so sure.
These people are cloners after all. Tech doesn’t have Tup’s tattoo, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his exact DNA, a sample taken after he’d been subjected to the process which made his chip cause him problems in the first place
Nala Se is surprised by what she finds when she’s examining him, and it’s only once she sees what’s happening to him that she gets aggressively keen on terminating him before anyone else can see it either. Especially once the phase 5 atomic scan has been suggested, because according to Shaak Ti it would show “if his thought processes are still functioning normally.” and she really doesn’t want anyone else to see what’s happening with his brain functions just then.
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Tup was the first person we know of that this process was tested on. So there’s a good chance that he’s the ‘original genetic material’ being referred to here, not the sample of Jango’s DNA from which all of the clones are derived.
Lama Su: If Rampart has his way, conscripted soldiers will make clones obsolete. I fear for the future of our operation. We must ensure our clones remain essential.
Nala Se: The original genetic material from Jango Fett continues to degrade.
Lama Su: Then it is time to begin the next phase. If your experiment can yield a superior clone, it will secure our relationship with this Empire.
Nala Se: Such a contingency cannot be created without a direct source. The clones required will not return willingly.
Lama Su: They are Kaminoan property, and we only need one. Our survival hinges on it.
.
But if he ‘continues to degrade’ what does that mean? He seems to be fine, doesn’t he?
Yeah, but that’s also not quite what I mean.
Because we could have cloned Tup, aka Tech, walking around with the Batch, and original Tup, aka rotting experimental sample that’s been kept for further testing, being kept down in bowels of Kamino waiting for the day that someone comes along and destroys it. (Source: Alien Resurretion)
I mean, they’d hardly keep that in Nala Se’s nice shiny secret lab where she’d been keeping Omega prior to the start of this show. All of those hidden wnderwater tunnels had to go somewhere, so who knows how many secret labs Kamino had
And as the boys enter their barracks after returning to Kamino in Ep 01:
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Tech walks in first, followed by Echo. But Echo’s already sniffing the air as he walks into the room. So is it really the room he’s picking up on, or just the general stink that’s accumulating on that level? Has their absence allowed the smell to build up in that room where movement in the corridor outside has prevented that from happening?
Hunter tells him he’ll get used to it which suggests that this is far from a new problem, and that no one on Kamino has any problem with letting them live like that. And only Crosshair makes any sort of complaint about it.
They distract from any further questions by then having Echo look around the room.
.
So what does this mean for Tech?
Tech comments to Echo that he’s ‘more machine than man, percentage wise at least’ but there’s a strong possibility that he’s no different. An android with a surface skin which gives the illusion of being a clone like everyone else, and who has the installed training of a clone, but who isn’t actually a clone.
The Techno Union had the means with which to create a cyborg out of a clone, but cutting out the middleman and creating their won droid army would keep the Kaminoans in operations for a long time to come. Just as long as no one notices what they’re doing
And an army of constructs that are fully controllable and doesn’t need any sort of head chip to give them orders? Far superior to these clones running about having their own opinions, refusing to follow orders, defecting, and removing their controls chips. Far better to have an army in which you can just send a signal directly to their electronic brain and allow them no option but to comply.
But what suggests that Tech may not be as human as he appears to be?
Tech has never shown any sign of growing facial hair. No 5 o’clock shadow, no beard. Nothing. But everyone else shows that, including Echo.
And yet, following surgery on Bracca, his hair has managed to grow back overnight making him look exactly the same as he did the day before even though the incision on his head shouldn’t have had time to heal up yet.
.
He doesn’t eat in the mess hall. He has food on the tray in front of him, but only moves a roll from one side of his tray to the other. Everyone else is shown to be going through the motions of eating even if that isn’t specifically animated.
We also don’t see Hunter give him any rations in the following episode when he’s handing them out.
He does appear to drink in the bar (Source: Alien/Aliens), but whether that just passes straight through his system is unknown - and will hopefully remain so.
.
All the way back in TCW S7, Ep 03 Hunter says “He records everything. It's a hobby.”
But is that just disgusing the fact that his robot brain automatically records everything and Hunter was deflecting attention by dismissing it as ‘a hobby’ to prevent anyone asking any questions about it? Does he store his recordings externally, by uploading his memory storage to an external location during a ‘sleep’ cycle, or in the Marauder’s data banks? When we see him using his wrist device and datapad is that just a visual used to conceal the times he’s accessing his memory storage?
When they run into Omega in Ep 01 and he assesses her as an adolescent female he puts his hand to his head and shifts his eyes around like he’s reading information from a screen even though he isn’t holding one.
But he doesn’t put his hand to his goggles, he puts it to the side of his head, just above the device on the side of his goggles. It’s very reminiscent of how Echo holds his head when he’s accessing the Separatist mainframe before he gets his fancy headpiece.
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And we see him do a similar thing back in TCW S7, Ep 04 when he says he’s intercepting a transmission about Trench ordering all of his droids to the assembly room.
He’s tapping on the device on his arm, stops and says he’s intercepting a transmission. And after that he’s just processing it mentally. You see him working through it in his head and the way it affects how he says what he does.
But because we initially saw him using the device on his arm we assume that that’s how he picked up the message instead of receiving it by alternate means.
.
In the brig he looks stressed while trying to work out how to escape from the holding cell, but without his devices and backpack/helmet aerials he may not be able to connect to the systems which would allow him to view the construction design. He has to rely solely on his own knowledge for an answer, which would be highly unusual for him if he’s used to being able to rely on having access to external information.
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And what about the way Tech talks? His supposedly ‘British’ accent?
To quote from Wikipedia:
“Foreign accent syndrome is a medical condition in which patients develop speech patterns that are perceived as a foreign accent that is different from their native accent, without having acquired it in the perceived accent's place of origin
Foreign accent syndrome usually results from a stroke but can also develop from head trauma, migraines or developmental problems. The condition might occur due to lesions in the speech production network of the brain, or may also be considered a neuropsychiatric condition.”
Or it could simply be programmed into him directly and just happen to come out sounding like that.
.
And what of the scene on Bracca where Omega asks him what the war was like and he gives her an answer that sounds like he’s reading a page from a military manual on what war is.
Omega: Tech… what was the war like?
Tech: It was a primary mission objective comprised of battles on various fronts.
Omega: But what was it like?
Tech: Hmm? I just told you.
Hits differently if you’re willing to consider that he might not remember what the war was like, doesn’t it?
A droid’s memory can be copied, it’s data and stored in files. When R2-D2 is captured everyone is concerned about how all of hs knowledge could be taken and used by others.
So why would the Kaminoans not experiment with being able to copy a clone's memory so they can automatically transfer all of that training to a new body if they die. All that training and experience installed in a fresh clone in minutes, just like a droid.
So if Tup's mind was copied before he died and then transferred into this new body it might have all of his training but not necessarily all of his memories. (Source: Blake’s 7, Project Avalon) I mean, this was hardly the best of circumstances to be attempting this, unless a recording was taken before he was ‘enhanced’ in the first place
His training would be tied to a physical response and might be easier, or at least different to access, but not his recollection of the war and what happened on the missions he took part in.
Or it might simply have been deleted to prevent him remembering who he used to be and what he’d previously done. Removing those memories would also mean he wouldn’t remember where he’d been for those five days he was missing on Ringo Vinda that gets casually mentioned one time in Ep 02 of the Fives arc when the Jedi are discussing his welfare, and never mentioned again. Which removes any threat of him exposing who did that to him in the first place.
That’s no different really to the reprogramming we’ve seen done to Crosshair to make him forget who he is and to force him to display loyalty to the Empire and to want to follow their orders.
But placing mental blocks and/or false memories into someone’s head runs the risk of them breaking down given sufficient time, or the right sort of prompt, just the same as the hold the inhibitor chips had on the other clones appeared to wear off over time. And that might happen more easily in some people than others.
No one seemed to think Crosshair’s strange behaviour back in Ep 01 was anything out of the ordinary, after all.
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So why doesn’t Tech have a full set of commando armour?
Everyone else has one. Katarn class armour all painted up in the colours the Batch wear. Echo gets a whole new set of matching armour when he joins their team so it makes even less sense that Tech is lacking a set when Echo’s only been with the team for a short time.
But you can’t requisition armour for a dead man, can you?
And if you put a request in for the never before seen CT number 9901 people might start asking questions you don’t want to be asked.
Sidelining the others as ‘faulty goods but we’re working on it’ would allow them to file a request for new armour before rebranding them and sending them out as an all new experimental squad, but Tup is officially deceased so that isn’t an option.
And Tup didn't have his armour when he died. He’d been stripped down to his undersuit and strapped to a gurney before he was shipped out of Ringo Vinda,  long before he actually made it as far as Kamino.
Everyone else has their original helmet, remodelled and repainted but still the ones they started out with. Tech doesn’t even have that.
Oh no, what he gets instead is this:
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I mean, seriously? A skull with a lightning bolt through it? Like he’s been created in a laboratory using lightning a la Frankenstein's monster? Really?
Just because it’s done in a cute 8-bit style does not make that ok!
It isn’t exactly subtle, but we gloss past it regardless because CF99′s logo is a skull even if it isn’t the same as that one.
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Everyone comments on how odd it is that he's so badly protected, that his thighs and abdomen are left so exposed, but no one really seems to wonder whether or not that matters. (Source: Terminator)
But if his armour comes from scrounging up parts left behind by dead troopers, a chest plate here, some leg and arm plates there, a helmet with a non-working HUD remodelled to work with a fold down visor instead, all finished off with one of Jango’s left behind utility belts, then that makes a lot more sense of his odd way of dressing.
But why no thigh plates and no abdominal protection?
Because, whether everyone agrees with it or not, he’s taller than a standard trooper now, and those parts are highly noticeable if they don’t fit anymore.
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Boots slightly too short? The strapping and knee pads help to hide that, but if the thigh plates don’t cover the gap between the knee pads and the crotch plate that’s going to be glaringly obvious.
And if the chest protection isn’t meeting the tummy cover that’s going to give you the same problem.
Especially with the high contrast of white on black.
And they work to distract us from noticing Tech’s height all the time, or haven’t you noticed how much time he spends sitting down or leaning over compared with everyone else, or is framed in such a way that it minimises how tall he looks without it being obvious?
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Here they switch it up so that Echo is the one leaning forwards, and because he’s the one in motion we focus on him and not Tech standing on one side. And we already know that Omega is shorter than everyone else.
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Even here, when everyone else is in shot and standing upright, Tech still manages to be hunched forwards:
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Ho, ho ho, look at Tech and his bad posture. Right?
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Tech having a set of armour put together from other troopers leftovers also fits with the rest of the substandard items the Batch have access to.
A faulty gonk droid that no one else wants and likely no one would notice if it went missing
A small attack shuttle that’s in such a poor state that the troopers investigating it in Ep 02 said “It's a mess. No wonder it was abandoned.”, and it isn’t like you’d abandon a ship just because of trash on the floor, is it?
And it is a small shuttle. The Rebels crew live on the Ghost and use the Phantom for missions. But the Batch are living permanently on their equivalent of the Phantom.
Almost everything the Batch have been provided with, including Tech’s armour, is the dregs that a bunch of men who’re not supposed to be on active duty have been given because no one else is going to miss it.
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So how do they manage to operate within the GAR if they’re clones who don’t technically exist?
Cody.
He’s the only person we’ve seen within the army who knew them, the others had only heard stories about them. And with his high rank he can cover for them being around other clones on the odd occasion that they are, and maybe even make sure they can access fuel and other supplies from time to time.
But this post isn’t about Cody, so I’m not getting into how else he might fit into all of this here.
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kayfabekelpie · 2 years
Note
18 for TMA Darpunk ❤️
Hey syb. Hey Syb why. (This is entirely too long)
18. Things you said while you were scared aka "what happens if your body has a panic moment but your mind doesn't get the memo."
It is a damn lucky thing that Sammy is with him backstage when Punk goes over the top rope with a collar around his neck, because Darby just drops. No warning, no announcement from his body that *hey we're gonna do something weird now*, he just collapses. Sammy manages to catch him, and Darby finds himself blinking up at him in bewilderment.
"Are you dying?" Sammy asks, not quite frantic but like he wants to be.
"Probably." He manages to get his legs under him again with Sammy holding him upright. He's running before he's even aware that he's capable, tripping over his own feet for the first several steps. He hears Sammy call after him and then pounding footsteps following him, but he can't really register. He vaults over the top rope, sees the chain leading down to Punk, slumped against the apron and bleeding. He touches the back of Punk's neck, like Punk does for him, stroking up and down along his hairline. Soothing. Grounding. Punk's eyes roll to him, but Darby isn't sure he's really seeing, taking in that Darby is there. He looks distant, fading, and Darby -
Darby feels. Cold. He looks up, wild eyed and seeking out - Sammy, he's pacing around, posturing and posing for. For the crowd. The fucking crowd, who are eating this up, cheering and hooting. Beholding. Punk's eyes are green through his red mask and Darby is cold.
Punk manages to pull himself back into his body, lean into Darby's touch a little.
"Fix your face," he says. "We're on TV."
Darby doesn't think he manages, trailing after the tech who comes to help Punk into the back. Darby loses track of Sammy, too focused on Punk, on warming himself back up. By the time they make it to the med room, Punk is staggering, even with help, and Darby ducks under his other shoulder to prop him up.
"Sweetheart," Punk slurs, "go back to the locker room, I'll come get you when - " He cuts himself off and blinks blood out of his eyes. When.
"I'm fine," Darby tries to say, but his mouth says, "I love you," instead.
"You're shaking."
"I love you," comes out again. Then, "I'm just cold."
Punk kisses his cheek on the skeleton side - or, well, kind of mashes his face against Darby's cheek since he's uncoordinated with blood loss, maybe a head injury. Wet clings, sticky and warm, to his skin, and Darby can smell iron, can smell Slaughter, and his stomach turns. A hand lands on his shoulder - big, warm, warped with scarring and broken bones from years of fighting - and Eddie squeezes him. That's the smell, it's just Eddie, it's not Punk's -
"C'mon, let's go," Eddie says. "Me 'n Moxxie are gonna get you right."
Darby can't fight, lets Eddie lead him to the door of the room, down a hall, out a door, into the cold night air. Mox has a car waiting. "Your stuff's in the back."
"Cool. Okay." Now that they're outside, Darby isn't nearly as cold. There's sweat on the small of his back that's going clammy. He sits in the backseat because Eddie shoves him in, and Mox gets in after him, and they drive. The blood is still thick in the air. Eddie must be pissed. Mox too, probably. Darby just keeps staring ahead, not quite seeing, thoughts too fast for him to parse through and decide how he feels about anything. He just lets them pass him by. Eddie and Mox get him to the hotel, up to his room.
"I'm gonna go get our stuff, who knows if - when. When Punk's gonna be back tonight," Mox says. "I don't wanna leave him alone."
"Nah, yeah, you're right." Eddie scrubs over his hair. "I'll get him cleaned up."
Mox leaves, and Eddie disappears into the bathroom, and the scent of Slaughter stays. Eddie comes back with a hand towel from the bathroom - white, of course, always white - and crouches in front of Darby, takes his face in his hand. The towel comes away streaked with black paint and red. Eddie disappears again. The blood smell is gone.
Eddie gets him into his pajamas and cuddles him with a level of intensity that is...probably too extreme for cuddling. It doesn't do much to stop the chill down to Darby's bones, not even when Mox comes back and spoons up behind him with equal ferocity. He stills shivers, bedded down between them, until the door opens sometime after 2am and Punk limps in. There's butterfly bandages holding his scalp together and his hair is still strung with blood. Darby tries to crawl over Eddie to get to him, but Punk holds up a hand, leans over Eddie to kiss him. He tastes like mouthwash, and he smells like blood.
"Where's mine?" Eddie grumps, and Punk rolls his eyes and presses several noisy kisses over Eddie's face until he splutters and shoves Punk away. Punk laughs, and Darby finally starts to warm.
"I'm gonna go wash up, sweetheart, you stay here."
Darby manages to nod, and Eddie burrows him back down. The shower starts, and at some point it stops, and finally, Punk crawls into bed, squirms in between Darby and Mox so he's pressed against Darby's back. Darby finally relaxes.
"I love you," he says.
"Love you too, sweetheart." Punk kisses the top of his head. He smells like Old Spice, and Irish Spring, and nothing like blood. "Good night, Darbs."
"Good night, Jim Bob," Mox quips. Punk elbows him in the ribs, and Mox grunts, throws an arm heavy over the both of them, and Darby presses his ear to Punk's heartbeat, and he drops off.
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castillomccarty97 · 1 year
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cortezholt30 · 1 year
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Factors Arrive Into Play When Seeking Glass Repair
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angry-geese · 2 years
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Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *
YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol
When We Meet Again
Gojo Satoru x Reader
Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader
Word Count: 3.7k
jjk masterlist
It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.
Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.
You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.
He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.
The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.
It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.
It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.
The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.
The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.
You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.
He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.
When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.
It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.
Are you having a nightmare?
The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.
There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.
There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.
It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.
The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.
His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.
His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.
Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.
You must've missed him more than he expected.
Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.
You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”
“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.
If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.
“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”
You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.
"You were calling out my name." He says.
"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."
“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.
You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”
"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."
This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."
"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.
“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”
“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.
“Never!”
“Then I guess I won't let you go.”
His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.
You suppose there’s worse fates than this.
It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.
"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.
“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”
“How was work?”
“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”
“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”
“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”
“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”
Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.
You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?
But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.
You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.
“Quit squirming.” You hiss.
“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”
And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.
That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?
You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.
Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.
“Stop that,” he says.
“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.
“Why do I not believe you?”
His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.
You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.
A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.
So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.
“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”
It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.
His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.
“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.
“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.
“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”
“Oh really? What makes you think that?”
His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.
“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”
Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.
The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.
Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.
But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.
You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.
Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.
"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.
You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.
You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.
You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.
Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.
You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.
Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.
Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.
Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.
The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?
“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.
“‘Toru-” you whine.
“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”
“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”
“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.
He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.
He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.
“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”
Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.
He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.
The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.
It's another moment before he starts thrusting.
Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.
The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.
Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.
He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.
“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”
You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.
He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.
A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.
“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”
And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.
The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.
He practically collapses on top of you.
Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.
For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.
You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.
You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.
“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”
“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”
You're in for a long night.
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mxchellesworld · 3 years
Text
Discuss!
Spencer Reid x Reader
Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out
Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation 
a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!
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***
Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks. 
Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything. 
Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives. 
Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter. 
You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night. 
“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice. 
Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space. 
“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself. 
“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. 
“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly. 
The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation. 
“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side. 
He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks. 
“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes. 
“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows. 
“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes. 
You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things. 
That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen. 
You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile. 
Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?” 
Got him.
“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks. 
As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder. 
For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions. 
The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two. 
You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings. 
“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out. 
As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt. 
You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out. 
Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?” 
“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles. 
The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 
You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles. 
“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you. 
“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?” 
“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod. 
As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-
“Y/n?” 
The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?” 
His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips. 
“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks. 
“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch. 
You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night. 
As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain. 
You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”
Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out. 
“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted. 
“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours. 
“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.” 
His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours. 
“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.” 
The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred. 
You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump. 
“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”
“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears. 
Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum. 
“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines. 
“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs. 
“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length. 
“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point. 
The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further. 
You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure. 
You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”
He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again. 
For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget. 
Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes. 
You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off. 
“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”
“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out. 
“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,”  you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all. 
Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came. 
“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”
His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever. 
You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go. 
The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon. 
Then a sad look came across his face. 
“Spencer what’s wrong?” 
“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy. 
“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.
He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs. 
“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.” 
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aynanasstuff · 2 years
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Hi! Can I request a fic idea 👀 what if one day a mission somehow turned Sam to a kid or a baby. Can we see reader's reaction? Thank you and have a great day ahead! (If it's not the kind of fic you usually write, it's alright!)
Hi! I found this challenging initially but the story just ended up writing itself haha! I hope you like it <33
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Oh, Baby// Sam Wilson x Reader
Summary: Yeahh, you're boyfriend was turned into a baby.
Warnings: there aren't any, really. flufffff!
masterlist
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"Heyyy," Bucky says sheepishly with a cute baby in his arms and Joaquin nervously scratching his head. A baby that you feel like you've seen before but can't quite remember where. A baby who started crying and reaching out for you as soon as your face was in view.
Bucky huffs and adjusts the baby on his hip, "God, even as a baby you're annoying."
You reach out to hold the child, adjusting him in your arms, "Hi, sweet boy, don't cry, you're okay," you sooth before turning to Bucky, "who is this and how dare you call this sweet face annoying?"
Joaquin forces a smile and answers, "That is the love of your life." Bucky glares at him.
Your brows shoot up to your hairline and you turn to 'the love of your life' whose head was now laying in the crook of your neck, all quiet and calm.
You whisper harshly, "What?!"
"Yeah, can we explain more inside?"
You open the door wider and they let themselves in.
"What the hell- heck- is going on?! This is Sam?!"
"Yeah, that's Sam. Cuter as a baby, I think." Bucky says.
You were going to rip him a new one but Sam's coos caught your attention. He tugged at the collar of your tshirt, sucking on his thumb while his eyes watered. "Hi, are you hungry? Yeah, food sounds good, doesn't it?" He nods excitedly.
"Of course, he's hungry," Bucky jokes. You glare at him and Joaquin winces. The new falcon begins to explain what happened, "So we are after this crazy scientist, right, and he's trying to create this machine that can make him stay young forever. But, as you can see, it still has some problems that haven't been fixed so Sam's now a baby and you're having to feed him."
"Slimy scientist, managed to trip Sam into the machine and escape." Bucky says, frustrated.
You come back with a bowl of milk with mashed bananas and sit down, shifting Sam to feed him. You feed him little morsels of the sweet mixture, his lips smacking after each bite. He's the cutest baby ever, you're sure.
"So what's the plan to get him back to my Sam?" you question, eyes remaining on the little one.
"Oh, we contacted Scott Lang- still can't believe I spoke to ant man, he's so underrated- he said he'd be ready with the tech to turn him back to normal in about a day or so, until then, you're stuck with a baby." Joaquin answers.
Bucky chuckles, "She's stuck with a baby otherwise, too."
Sam glares at Bucky and then looks up at you, crocodile tears in his puppy brown eyes.
"Aww, you're not a baby, Sam. Bucky's just being a meanie, isn't he? We don't listen to what meanies say. Shh, it's okay." You bounce him in your lap and pat his back and shoot a look at Bucky that says 'really?'
______
The day arrives and early in the morning, you get yourself and Sam ready to reach Scott. You reach his place to find Joaquín and Bucky already present.
Scott walks over to you, cooing, "Oh, Sam's such a cute baby! I kinda don't want him to go back to big Sam."
Sam narrows his eyes at Scott and actually, growls. Well, whatever the baby babble version of a growl is.
"Okay, just a little longer." You comfort the little boy.
______
Sam is officially back to his original state. "Holy shit, I am glad to not be a baby anymore! Goddamn!"
He jogs over to you and kisses you hard, "I am so glad to be a man again!" You laugh and kiss his cheek, "Me too, baby, you made a cute baby but I think I'll keep this version of you."
Sam sighs and gives a relieved smile. He then turns to Bucky and starts running towards him.
"Bucky! You little shit!"
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A/n: This was so much fun to write! I hope y'all liked this! Please reblog, comment and like- keeps me going :) Love y'all <333
Tags: @chrisfucksblog @fluffycutecevans @fluffyprettykitty @lil-stark @nelleana @fantqsha @janetsnakehole02 @suntrapped @turbolisedcomet @talk3tiv3 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @commonintrest <33
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thimbil · 3 years
Text
Having some thoughts about the references and inspirations used for the Bad Batch’s designs.
So Boba Fett is my absolute favorite character and Temeura Morrison was perfect casting. I went to see the 2008 TCW movie in theaters because I was so excited to see him again, even if he was animated. You can imagine my disappointment. Whoever was on screen was not Temeura Morrison. You could sort of see a resemblance if you squinted and didn’t think too hard about it. They replaced Temeura with Racially Ambiguous G.I. Joe. If I didn’t know better and someone told me the animated clones are space Italians from the moon of New Jersey I would buy it. One Million Brothers Pizzeria and Italian Bistro. Not that there’s something wrong with being space Italian, I just don’t think it’s the right choice for the Fetts. The design got slightly improved by season 7 but it still bugs the hell out of me.
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I did eventually get into the show later and (of course) got invested in the clones. Unfortunately, they were largely sidelined by the Jedi storylines. Out of the two new main characters created for TCW, Ahsoka definitely got more development and focus than Rex. When they announced The Bad Batch, I was excited to see a show specifically devoted to the clones… at least that’s what it said on the tin. We have all seen what lurks beneath those stylish helmets.
Jango Fett, you are NOT the father.
So who is?
Based on interviews with Filoni, it sounds like the Bad Batch was a George Lucas idea. And like all his ideas, it’s super derivative. The original trilogy directly lifted elements from sci fi serials, westerns, and samurai movies, more specifically Kurosawa films like The Hidden Fortress. For The Bad Batch character designs, the influence is obviously American action and adventure movies.
Now let’s get specific. Bad Batch, who’s your daddy?
Hunter
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Sylvester Stallone as Rambo in First Blood 1982. That bandana has become an integral part of the iconic action hero look. You see a character wearing one and it’s a visual shorthand for either “this character is a tough guy” like Billy played by Sonny Landham in Predator 1987, or “this character thinks he is/wants to be a tough guy” like Brand played by Josh Brolin in The Goonies 1985 or Edward Frog played by Corey Feldman in The Lost Boys 1987.
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Hunter’s model is closest to the original clone base. If you look closely you will see the eyebrows are straighter with a much lower angle to the arch. His nose is also not the same shape as a standard clone like Rex, including a narrower bridge. It’s certainly not Temeura Morrison’s nose. Remember what I said about space Italians? It didn’t take much to push the existing clone design to resemble an specific Italian man instead of a specific Māori man. The 23&Me came back, and Hunter inherited more than the bandana from Sylvester.
Crosshair
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The long narrow nose, the sharp cheekbones, the scowl. That’s no clone, that’s just animated Clint Eastwood. Not even Young and Hot Clint Eastwood from Rawhide 1959-1965. With that hair, I’m talking Gran Torino 2008. The man of few words schtick and family friendly toothpick in lieu of cigar are pure Eastwood as The Man With No Name from Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns A Fist Full of Dollars 1964, For a Few Dollars More 1965, and The Good the Bad and the Ugly 1966.
In a way, this is full circle because the actor Jeremy Bulloch took inspiration from Clint Eastwood for his performance as Boba Fett in ESB.
Wrecker
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In an interview Filoni lists the Hulk as an (obvious) inspiration for Wrecker. Ever seen the old Hulk tv show from 1978? Well take a look at the actor who played him, Lou Ferrigno. Would you look at that. Even has his papa’s nose.
You could make the argument that Wrecker was influenced by The Rock, an appropriately buff ‘n bald Polynesian (Samoan, not Maori) man. But look at him next his Fast and Furious costar Vin Diesel and tell me which one resembles Wrecker’s character model more.
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Tech
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Tech is a little trickier for me to place. If he has a more direct inspiration it must be something I haven’t seen. That said, his hairline is very Bruce Willis as John McClane in Die Hard 1988. His quippiness and large glasses remind me of Shane Black as Hawkins from Predator 1987. In terms of his face, he looks a but like the result of McClane and Hawkins deciding to settle down and start a family. Although, Tech’s biggest contributors are probably just everyone on TV Trope’s list for Smart People Wear Glasses.
And finally,
Echo
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Oh Echo. Considering he wasn’t created for the Bad Batch, he probably wasn’t based on a particular character or movie. But if I had to guess, his situation and appearance remind me a lot of Alex Murphy played by Peter Weller in Robocop 1987. However, Robocop explored the Man or Machine Identity Crisis with more nuance, depth, and dignity. Yikes.
The exact tropes and references used in The Bad Batch have been done successfully with characters who aren’t even human. Gizmo from Gremlins 2: The New Batch 1990 had a brief stint with the Rambo bandana. I could have picked any number of characters for Defining Feature Is Glasses but here is the most cursed version of Simon of Alvin and the Chipmunks. Suffer as I have. Marc Antony with his beloved Pussyfoot from Looney Tunes has the same tough guy with a soft center vibe as Wrecker and his Lula (also a kind of cat). Hell, in the same show we have Cad Bane sharing Cowboy Clint Eastwood with Crosshair. I actually think Bane makes a better Eastwood which is wild considering Crosshair has Eastwood’s entire face and Bane is blue.
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So we’ve established you don’t need your characters to look exactly like their inspirations to match their vibe. So why go through the trouble and cost of creating completely new character designs instead of recycling and altering assets they already had on hand? Just slap on a bandana, toothpick, goggles, and make Wrecker bigger than the others while he does a Hulk pose and you’re done. Based on the general reaction to Howzer it would have been a low effort slam dunk crowd pleaser.
But they didn’t do that.
So here’s the thing. I like the tropes used in The Bad Batch. I am a fan of action adventure movies from the 80s-90s, the sillier the better. I am part of the Bad Batch’s target audience. Considering what I know about Disney and Lucasfilm, I went in with low expectations. I genuinely don’t hate the idea of seeing references to these actors and media in The Bad Batch. I don’t think basing these characters on tropes was a bad idea. If anything it’s a solid starting point for building the characters.
The trouble is nothing got built on the foundation. The plot is directionless, the pacing is wacky, and the characters have nearly no emotional depth or defining character arcs. They just sort of exist without reacting much while the story happens around them. But I can excuse all of that. You don’t stay a fan of Star Wars as long as I have not being able to cherrypick and fill in the gaps. This show has a deeper issue that shouldn’t be ignored.
Why do the animated clones bear at best only a passing resemblance to their live action actor? In interviews, Filoni wouldn’t shut up but the technological advancements in the animation for season 7. So if they are updating things, why not try to make the clones a closer match to their source material? Why did they have to look like completely different people in The Bad Batch to be “unique”? Looking like Temeura Morrison would have no bearing on their special abilities and TCW proved you can have identical looking characters and still have them be distinct. In fact, that’s a powerful theme and the source of tragedy for the clones’ narrative overall.
Here’s Filoni’s early concept art of Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, and Hunter. (Interesting but irrelevant: Wrecker seems to have a cog tattoo similar to Jesse’s instead of a scar. Wouldn’t it have been funny if they kept that so when they met in season 7 one if them could say something like “Hey we’re twins!” That’s a little clone humor. Just for you guys 😘)
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None of these drawings look like the clones in TCW, much less Temeura Morrison. Let’s be generous. Maybe Filoni struggles with drawing a real person’s likeness, as many people do. But he had to hand this off to other artists down the line whose job specifically involves making a stylized character resemble their actor. Yet the final designs missed the mark almost as much as this initial concept. Starting to seem as if the clones looking more like Temeura Morrison was never even on the table. It wasn’t a lack of creativity, skill or technical limitations on the part of the creative team. I don’t think there is an innocent explanation. They went out of their way to make the final product exactly how we got it.
This goes beyond homage. They could have made the same pop culture references and character tropes without completely stripping Temeura Morrison from the role he originated. It was a very purposeful choice to replace him with more immediately familiar actors from established franchises and films. It wouldn’t shock me if Filoni, Lucas, and anyone else calling the shots didn’t even think hard or care enough about the decision to immediately recognize a problem. And I don’t think they believed anyone else would either. At least no one whose opinion they cared about. Those faces are comfortingly familiar and proven bankable. They are what we’re all used to seeing after all. They’re white.
Lack of imagination, bad intentions, or simple ignorance doesn’t really matter in the end. The result is the same. Call it what it is. They replaced a man of color with a bunch of white guys. That’s by the book garden variety run of the mill whitewashing. There’s no debate worth having about it. For a fanbase that loves to nitpick things like whether or not it’s in character for Han to shoot first or Jeans Guy in the Mandalorian, we sure are quick to find excuses for clones who look nothing like their template. Why is that? If you don’t see the problem, congratulations. Your ass is showing. Pull your jeans up.
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