#bagel the gargoyle
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Leafhead!
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festive ficlets: dec 14
Prompts from @almost-a-class-act
Pairing: Babe Heffron x Ralph Spina
Prompt: Characters A and B just found out they disagree on whether ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ by Mariah Carey is the best or worst xmas song of all time.
The wind whistles through the cracked window-pane of the bathroom, strong enough to judder the door. Even the handmade lime-green draught excluder Ralph had brought home from one of his niece’s school fundraisers couldn’t quite stop the rattle and sharp bite of cold in this otherwise warm and cosy room.
Babe sits, feet tucked under the rung on the high barstool at their kitchen counter, hunched like the world’s lankiest gargoyle over his laptop. His fingers hover, poised and ready, over the keys. Across the counter, standing with a bagel in one hand and a rolled up copy of PC Gamer in the other, Ralph is scowling at him, thunder-faced and stormy-eyed. He slams the magazine down on the worktop, a gesture only slightly undercut by its bounce and flap to the floor, where it comes to rest neatly over his Captain America slippered feet.
Babe glares back.
“Stopping me from listening to what is, objectively, the best Christmas song ever made, is the worst thing you’ve ever done to this relationship,” he says. He has made this statement, in various ways, to various degrees of carefully orchestrated histrionics, several times over the last few rounds of this annual argument. It hasn’t worked quite yet, but it’s not even 8pm and they’ve still got at least an hour before a truce needs to be called so they can curl up together on the sofa with Criminal Minds.
“If you put it on the Christmas playlist, I will murder you and dispose of the body in such a way that it will never be found.” Ralph points directly at Babe’s nose. “And you know I can do it.”
Ralph too, has said this before. On at least three of the previous occasions, he has described in detail exactly what he will do to Babe’s body, and which oceans he will dump it in. Babe asked once where he expected to find a boat to cart said corpse and had been met with a hissed I have ways which had been so unexpectedly hot that the argument had been derailed entirely while he'd dragged Ralph upstairs.
“There are-” and Babe knows this, he’s counted them all, “- one thousand three hundred and eighteen other songs on this list. That’s seventy two and a half hours of music. What’s just four little minutes and one teeny tiny little second to all of that.”
“I will divorce you.”
“We aren’t married.”
Ralph throws the bagel hand up in the air. A sliver of salmon lands squarely on the slipper that is not being covered by a magazine.
“I will marry you specifically to divorce you if you put that song on our Christmas playlist.”
“I am perfectly marriageable material and look very handsome in a suit.
“I know that,” Ralph says. He’s in full swing now, waving crumbs all over the kitchen and absolutely not listening to his own mouth making noises. “And I’m going to anyway. But it doesn’t mean I have to to subject myself to your torturous taste in Christmas music. I have my pride, Heffron.”
Babe tilts his head and waits a moment for brains to catch up with words. Ralph stares back. His face is beginning to turn many delightfully festive colours, Babe notes.
“That was very romantic, Spina.”
“Stop.”
“I mean, I’m sure there’s wine in the fridge and candles in the garage if you want to try again.”
Ralph groans, buries his face in his hands. Babe chooses not to point out that there is cream cheese going into his hair. “God, Babe, babe. That wasn’t how that was supposed to go.”
A smile cracks over Babe’s face. “No shit,” he says. “You think I don’t see when you make reservations on our shared credit card?”
Ralph’s mouth opens and closes a few times. “You knew?”
“If I didn’t, maybe I find this less funny,” Babe says. He makes a show of thinking it over a for a few moments. “Maybe I don’t,” he concedes. He pats the barstool next to him. “Since I’m feeling magnanimamous-”
“That’s too many syllables.”
“Take it. Since I’m feeling that, I’ll give you a do over on Thursday night. I’ll even act surprised.” He pauses again for dramatic effect. “And I’ll delete the song off our playlist.”
Ralph clatters the bagel down onto a plate, and pads over to his boyfriend. There are still crumbs on his fingers when he places a gentle hand on Babe’s neck and pulls him forward into a kiss. His face is flushed crimson, but Babe can feel him grinning like an idiot, and when he pulls back, Ralph is beaming like all his Christmases have come at once. Seconds stretch between them as he kisses Babe once more, then twice more, then again for good measure. It is a good long moment before they break apart again, and he glances down at the laptop, where Babe’s hand rests flat, covering over the trackpad.
“Light of my life,” Ralph says.
“Mm?”
“I think you mistook the delete button for the add this song fifty times to the playlist button.”
“Oops,” says Babe, not at all contritely, as Mariah Carey begins to warble through the every Bluetooth speaker in the house.
#bob: festive ficlets#spina it's ok i've heard worse#for realsies#babe heffron#ralph spina#band of brothers
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Here are three potential ways to begin the news article:
1) "Move over, donuts and bagels – there's a new pastry in town that's taking the world by storm. Croissants have long been a beloved breakfast treat for their flaky, buttery goodness, but it turns out that they may have an unexpected health benefit as well. Recent studies have shown that croissants contain compounds that are particularly beneficial for the immune system, making them a lymphoid powerhouse that could help ward off illness and disease. But who would have thought that this French delicacy could also be a valuable weapon against fantasy creatures like gargoyles? Let's take a closer look at the science behind why croissants are the perfect snack for tickling the fancy of both taste buds and lymphocytes."
2) "In the realm of fantasy and mythology, gargoyles are often depicted as formidable and fearsome creatures, perched atop high buildings and guarding against evil forces. But what if I told you that the key to taming these beasts could be found in a simple breakfast food? Yes, you read that correctly – croissants, those flakey, crescent-shaped pastries that originated in France, are being hailed as a potential solution for dealing with gargoyles. The reason? Their lymphoid properties. Let's delve deeper into this intriguing combination of delicacy and defense."
3) "As lovers of literature and cinema know all too well, the worlds of fantasy and reality often intersect in unexpected ways. And one recent discovery has confirmed this once again – croissants, those delectable pastries that have long been associated with French cafes and boulevards, have been deemed lymphoid for an unlikely reason: their ability to charm and disarm gargoyles, the stone guardians of ancient lore. But how and why did this connection between a flaky breakfast treat and a mystical creature come to be? Let's unravel the mystery behind this surprising pairing."
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folks……. we are gettin close to a full blown very bad burnout/depressive episode…… not looking forward to it
#it speaks#lunch today was just a bagel.#i mean that literally. no butter. no cream cheese. didn’t even bother to cut it#just a circle of dough that i ate sitting on a bench hunched over like a gargoyle#managed to force myself into both of my classes today tho so#wins on that front im not completely gone
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Going on an adventure today – it felt good to take a long walk yesterday evening so I’m going to do that again & head up to the bagel store for some bagels 😊 on the way back I need to kill the Gargoyle King in The Witcher Go now that I’ve finally finished the very first quest in that game (I’ve only been playing it since…mid July, but it’s not my fault!! The location for the quest kept being in a spot that wasn’t readily accessible for me)
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to build a home - ch 1
beyond the drapes
attack on titan masterlist
ch 2 - a girl in a bar
Pairing: levi x reader (attack on titan)
Summary: a modern au where you and levi both work for the Survey Corps, a non-profit organization with a mission to help the youth of the Underground District.
Warnings: cursing, suggestive themes
Word Count: 3787
A/N: im so excited to explore levi’s character in this setting!! this story will be a series of moments in no sequential order. in this modern au, the walls still exist, as does the underground district. the only thing modern about it is the technology and culture lolol ENJOY
***
This day is bound to be a long one- it’s only 10 AM and you’ve already been in back to back meetings with several of donors for the foundation. You’ve been in meetings for the last three and a half hours, your toasted bagel now cold and your second cup of coffee now empty. You sigh and roll your shoulders back, pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance.
These rich types would be the death of you. But Erwin had specifically asked you to handle the rich donors. As if Hange or Levi would be able to sit through even one of these ass-kissing phone calls. You can hear sugary sweetness dripping off of your tongue with practiced patience and you hardly recognize it. It’s an out of body experience. As words are rolling off your tongue, you wonder how Levi would fare with this responsibility.
He’d complain the whole time and then tell the person on the other end of the video call to fuck off and get their heads out of their asses. The thought makes you scoff and you clear your throat to cover the sound.
Erwin knew your strengths and weaknesses as individuals and a team, and you were grateful for such an insightful boss and friend.
Once you seal the third donation of the morning, you take your headset off and rub your temples. You’re glad you’re free until noon, giving you some time to catch up on emails and catch up with your colleagues and friends. The drapes in your office were drawn back, illuminating your office in a faint sunny glow. Today, the sun was hiding behind the clouds so it wasn’t terribly bright.
And yes, you had drapes in your office. They were a midnight blue with threads of gold embroidered throughout. Everyone else had normal blinds, but you had seen these drapes while window shopping years ago for this new office and you knew it belonged. Something about the blue and gold made you feel royal and regal. As if this was yours and yours only.
That didn’t mean that Levi didn’t tell you how stupid your drapes were and how stupid you were at least once daily- “You think this is a stupid castle or something? You hear yourself?”
To which you would prompt reply, “if this was a castle, you’d be the damn gargoyle in front. The one that scares everyone away.”
And then he’d just ‘tch’ at you and roll his eyes.
What an ass.
You’re growing restless, so you lock your computer and get up to stretch your muscles for a few minutes. Sitting for hours at a time does a number on you in ways that you’d never expect- your shoulders sometimes hurt, your lower back, even your ass.
Maybe you need a better seat and desk setup, you muse. Walking down the hallway with your cold bagel in your left hand, you rotate your right shoulder and wince. You pass several of the new hires, Eren and Jean who seem to be bickering amongst themselves but straighten up and say ‘good morning’ to you as you pass them. You give them a smile and a wave, continuing on your way.
You stop by Hange’s office, where her door is wide open and papers are strewn all over the place. She’s viciously typing on her computer as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose in between each word. Her hair is in disarray and you sigh when you knock on her door.
“Hange,” You call, “Did you stay up all night again?”
“Huh? No way,” Hange gasps, looking at the time, “I just got caught up with things! You know- I’m this close to finishing this grant proposal! Look how much money we’re gonna get outta them! They won’t know what hit ‘em-”
“Hange,” You say firmly, “I’m calling you a cab to go home. Go to sleep. I don’t trust you to drive home, considering you’ve been up all night.”
“What?! I can drive-”
“Hange!” You interrupt her, “I’m serious! Come back tomorrow. Take it easy.”
She slumps in her chair in defeat and removes her glasses, rubbing her eyes in fatigue. “Oh alright. I guess I’m a little tired.”
“See you tomorrow, Hange,” You salute and point to your phone, “Cab’s on it’s way.”
With that, you make your way further down the hallway and come to a stop in front of Levi’s office. You knock and immediately open the door without allowing a moment of rest in between.
“What’s the point of knocking if you’re just going to barge in?” Levi asks, eyes still on his computer screen.
“It’s much more dramatic, and we both know you would’ve left me waiting. Because you’re an ass,” You reply good-naturedly, sliding into the seat in front of his desk and propping your legs up on his desk. Your shoes are in his face and he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.
“To what do I owe this most shitty pleasure?” Levi says, eyes narrowed at your bagel, “You here to ruin my office? Last time you were here I had to spend an hour cleaning it-”
You bite your tongue at the response you want to provide to that.
“No reason. Just have been on calls all morning. Was bored,” You shrug and wince at the slight shoulder movement.
Levi quirks an eyebrow at you but says nothing. He continues typing away, seemingly ignoring you as you munch on your half of the bagel. Once you’re finished with it, he throws a banana at you wordlessly. You fail to hide your smile.
“You’ll get hungry in about an hour with that shitty bagel. And then I’ll have to hear about it,” Levi says tonelessly, eyes trained on you. You roll your eyes at him and peel your banana.
“So you gave me this banana to shut me up?”
“Yes, it’s in my own best interest.”
A comfortable silence falls between the both of you. You eye the snow globe that you had gotten him for Christmas and his birthday on his shelf. It looks as if you had purchased it for him yesterday, when in reality it was over five years old. His office is as clean as ever, just like him.
“That’s a nice shirt,” You murmur, eyes raking over him shamelessly, “Who’s the lucky person who bought it for you?”
And honestly, he wants to do something about the smug smirk on your face. But instead he just stares at you, face as impassive as ever. His hair falls into his eyes with a practiced poise. You see the corners of his lips turn up, nearly daring to give you something resembling a smile.
“What makes you think I didn’t buy it myself?”
“Come on, Levi. You and I both know your sense of style is… questionable most times.”
“My sense of style? You really want to talk about your shitty drapes?” Levi asks, but you sense no malice in his voice.
“My drapes? Wouldn’t you like to know if the curtains match the drapes-”
“I can’t think of anything worse to know.”
You gasp in indignation, hand to your heart. “Don’t be such an ass!”
“Then don’t be such a brat!”
“Ugh,” You groan, standing up from your seat and making sure there are no crumbs falling off of you, “I have actual work to do, Ackerman. Quit wasting my time.”
“Door’s right there, sweetheart,” Levi says nonchalantly, looking back down at his planner and not sparing you a second glance.
“See you soon, handsome,” You call, turning back to wave at him and he gifts you with an upturn of his lips.
***
The Survey Corps was a nonprofit organization run by Erwin Smith and the mission of the organization was to find and provide educational resources and mentoring to the youths in the city. Specifically, the mission was to show kids who grew up in the shadows that they could have a life outside of the shadows and in the light with the help of the Survey Corps.
That’s not to say that the Survey Corps had all of the answers and all of the funds to fix the poverty in the walls. But your team tried their hardest to help the kids. Because the kids were the future.
As an organization, you had done some pretty amazing things and had some pretty amazing connections. The Survey Corps had been successful in launching many partnerships and setting up afterschool programs for the kids to find their interests. It was the kind of work that made you feel fulfilled and driven.
Not to mention, that you worked with some of the best people. Despite everyone’s differences, everyone had a clear shared passion for helping the kids of the city.
You truly loved your job, and everyone around you did as well. Ever since Erwin had promoted you to Director of Impact all those years ago and had seen your capabilities, you had really been able to thrive.
Bringing those new kids on board was your idea for the most part- Levi had complained the whole time, asking why they needed a separate youth outreach group when Erwin’s original team wasn’t even that old.
You had kindly told him that you weren’t teenagers anymore and hadn’t been in two decades. He had glared at you but nodded in agreement.
The rest of your afternoon was relatively free, you were just finishing up a few project ideas for outreach and catching up with some of the new kids.
You should probably stop calling them kids, you think dryly. They’re all in their early twenties, fresh faced and eager. Besides Mikasa- she’s almost as neutral as Levi is, with similar eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if they’re distantly related.
You rotate your shoulder again and massage it lightly with a wince. Damn, your right shoulder has been aching over the last week. Maybe you needed a real massage. Or a new chair.
You send all of your emails out quickly with your shoulder beginning to throb in pain as minutes go by.
Death by the office.
You tell Jean and Connie to meet you in the break-out room for your quick catch-up, unable to take sitting at your desk for much longer. You bring a notebook and a pen with you to the break-out room and wait for them to arrive.
They sit across from you with their stainless steel water bottles in front of them. They’re chatting animatedly, telling you about their ideas and their plans of all the good they can bring to the kids within the walls. Their shared enthusiasm makes you smile.
You start taking notes on their ideas, already thinking of ways to bring them to life. You groan softly as your hand cramps up from the pain in your right shoulder and neck shooting down your arm.
Jean calls your name and you look up.
“Are you okay?” He asks, “You look like you’re in pain.”
“Obviously she’s in pain!” Connie exclaims indignantly, “Sorry about him. He likes to state the obvious.”
“I’ll be alright. My shoulder is just- acting up today…” You trail off and rotate it, “Anyway, I like your ideas. Keep it up, I love the enthusiasm. And don’t try to out maneuver each other either.”
You look pointedly at Jean who gives you a look of innocence.
“We’re a team,” You murmur.
“Captain still calls us interns,” Connie blurts out and you can’t help but let out a laugh. That they still call Levi their Captain, because he’s so rigid with them and that he still calls them interns.
“I’ll talk to Captain grump,” You reassure them, “He calls you interns out of affection.”
“Affection? From Captain Levi? Pff,” Jean scoffs, crossing his arms.
“You’d be surprised, Jean.”
***
Levi catches your soft whistle of pain as you slide the straps of your backpack over your shoulders. He wordlessly stands behind you and pushes the straps of your arm and carries your backpack for you instead. He gives you his phone and keys to hold on to and you give him a smile in return.
He walks you to the car in silence, opening the door for you and waiting for you to get in. Levi catches your grimace and soft exhale once more as you shift in the seat.
“You told Hange to go home?” Levi asks, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” You nod, “She was here all night again. I don’t know how it gets past Erwin, but I told her to come back after she’s rested.”
Levi nods, eyes trained on the road in front of him. One hand on the steering wheel and one on his thigh. After a moment of staring off into the setting sun, you feel Levi’s hand slide into yours and his thumb rub against yours. His gaze hasn’t shifted, but you can see the light in the corner of his eyes.
He has let his hair and his scruff grow out a little longer than he usually likes- is he distracted? You can’t recall the last time his hair has been this long, but you like it. You make a mental note to ask him about it once you get home.
But as always, Levi can feel your eyes on him.
“Why are you staring?” He asks bluntly.
“Just lookin’ at your ugly mug,” You say nonchalantly, not missing the way his lips quirk up.
“You’ve been with this ugly mug for the last six years,” Levi says dryly, “And what does that say about you?”
“That I have good taste,” You beam at him and he rolls his eyes fondly.
“You’re a brat.”
“You’re an ass.”
You squeeze his hand and watch the planes of his face imperceptibly relax. He wonders how long your shoulder has been bothering you like this. You had mentioned a few times over the last week that it was an odd sort of ache, but today, it seemed like you were in a lot of pain. He’ll ask you about it when you get home.
Home. The space he’s shared with you for the last three and a half years. Levi thinks about that often. He thinks about being a rough, underground kid with nothing but dirt and danger to his name. He wonders if that kid would’ve ever dreamed of living a life like this. He often thinks about Erwin finding him so young and pledging to help him and help kids like him.
Levi often thinks about you. You, who had offered him nothing but laughs and coffee when he had nothing to give. You, who offered your shoulder when he didn’t have the strength to ask. You, who found a crack in his armor of steel and buried yourself next to him despite his roughness.
You.
Even now, he still wonders from time to time if you are aware of the extent of his adoration for you. But when you look at him in that soft way of yours, in that way that’s only reserved for him, he thinks you do.
***
Levi hears your pained gasp from the kitchen and then a call of his name. He sees you standing in your underwear, clutching your right shoulder with creased eyebrows.
“Levi,” You murmur, “Will you help me out of this shirt?”
Levi hums and brushes his knuckles over your neck gently.
“Lift your arms up for a second. This would be easier if this shirt was a button up rather than this shitty material,” He mutters, “This might hurt for a sec.”
He hears your sharp inhale and exhale as he pulls your top off. Levi pulls out one of his own shirts that has now become your sleep shirt and a pair of his shorts for you. He’s quick and precise in his movements, unclasping your bra easily and tugging his shirt over your head. He even helps you into his shorts and you press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.
Levi rubs your shoulder gingerly, eyes cast over you in concern.
“Go sit on the couch,” Levi murmurs, “I think we still have some of that medicinal paste my mom gave us. The one that’s supposed to help with pains like this. Your shoulder is tight.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s tight,” You wink at him and he shakes his head, patting your hair.
You’re tempted to follow Levi to the kitchen but refrain when he shoots you a look. Instead, you settle on the couch, stretching your legs out.
“Took you long enough,” You grumble, scooting up on the couch for him to lay behind you.
“It took me two minutes. Did you lose your sense of time as well?” Levi murmurs, pulling you into his chest.
You hum, already feeling yourself relax and take his hand in yours. Levi pulls the right side of your shirt down a little to examine your shoulder. He presses a finger to your upper neck and you hiss once his fingers press a little lower. He continues his examination, trying to figure out exactly where you’re in pain.
“Gonna give you a massage,” Levi says, “Might hurt at first. It’ll feel nice after. You can hold my hand if it does.”
“Thanks for your permission, honey,” You roll your eyes but clasp his free hand in yours once more.
His fingers are steady, gentle but firm against your skin. Levi whispers words to you, words of his day, words of what he thinks of the new interns. You correct him for the millionth time, reminding him that they’re not interns anymore. They’re employees now, part of the team. He scoffs but it pulls a laugh from you.
And then you gasp sharply when Levi’s hand prods at a knot. You squeeze his hand reflexively but after a few soothing touches, the pain washes away and the knot dissolves. Levi continues to rub your muscles and you lean further into his chest, your eyes closed in bliss.
He maneuvers you so as to not disturb you too much and spreads the topical analgesic on your shoulder, leaving your skin exposed. So that the medicine doesn’t spread on your shirt.
“Good?” Levi asks, rubbing your other shoulder. You nod, peering up at him and pecking his lips in gratitude. You try to deepen the kiss, try to rake your fingers through his hair the way he likes, but he turns his cheek.
“You’re gonna waste the medicine. It’ll stick to your shirt rather than your shoulder.”
“Seriously?” You groan.
“Blame your shitty shoulder,” Levi says and you glare at him.
“Take my shirt off then.”
“It’ll stick to your shirt when I take it off. Don’t be stupid.”
“Wow, you really thought this through,” You grumble, settling back into his chest and hoping the medicine absorbs quickly. He gives you a rare smile and kisses your forehead, his hand snaking under your shirt to rub your belly, his fingertips at your ribcage. The way he knows you like.
It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. But you didn’t mind though. You were patient, and he was worth it. He was an immensely private person and while he was never ashamed of you- the thought had never even struck his mind- he preferred to keep his business within the walls of your home. Even at work, Erwin often teased both of you that he could hardly tell that you were in a long term relationship with the way you two bickered with each other and the general lack of PDA. But Hange, bless her, would scold Erwin for being so dense-
How can you not tell? They argue like a married couple!
It had taken a long time for Levi to touch you like this. He can remember when the mere act of looking at you had proven to be too much sometimes. And somehow, you always knew when he needed space. When it got to be too much. It had even taken you a long time to touch him like this. He was unlike anyone you had ever met in every way. You’re certain from the way you fit within the spaces of his arms that this is where you were meant to be.
Something gentle settles in your cheeks, in the way you blink at him, in the way you’re stroking his undercut. He very nearly purrs at the touch but still-
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” You reply, not missing his ‘tch’ in response, “Your hair’s getting long…”
You run your fingers through his dark, silky strands and leave a trail of burning embers in your wake. You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, head tilting into your hand slightly. His grown out stubble prickles your hand and you push yourself closer to him.
“Something on your mind?” You murmur, “You never go this long without a haircut. Or a shave.”
“Testing something out,” Levi says vaguely and you hum.
“Whatever you say, honey,” You reply, pressing a kiss to his neck.
“Don’t worry about it. You’ll hurt yourself if you think too much.”
“Noted. Thanks for looking out for me, Levi,” You say dryly, poking his chest.
“Someone has to,” Levi mutters, “Think you need a new chair at work. You’ve always had a shitty chair. Or maybe you need a standing desk. I’ll build you one.”
You’re barely listening, eyes beginning to flutter closed and you hum in agreement. Levi is just so warm, it’s no surprise that you’re asleep in just a few minutes. Your breaths are steady against his arm as you shift a little to turn on your side. You must be tired. Levi grabs the book he’s currently reading from the coffee table, drapes a blanket over you and rubs your back as you fall into a deeper sleep.
As he reads, he can’t really focus on the words on the page. He’s busy thinking about you, and how easily you grew to trust him and to love him. Despite how long it took for him to even realize that what he felt towards you was trust and love. Levi thinks back to the kid from the Underground. That kid is still him, and he remembers the faint desire to have a semblance of this life. To feel the sun against his face, the wind in his hair. To be unabashedly himself.
And somehow, not even the freeing feeling of the sun on his face and the wind in his hair can compare to your velvet touch on his skin.
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi x you#levi ackerman#aot#attack on titan#snk#shingeki no kyojin#aot imagines#snk imagines
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if the world should end (self-para)
summary: after mj gets hurt, peter prepares for what comes next
word count: 1298
trigger warnings: injury mention, death mention, existential angst
May had come, brought a change of clothes and cheap hospital coffee and a hug he couldn’t bring himself to accept. He was still wound up tight, every sense dialed well past their upper limit, every muscle vibrating with the weight of it. MJ would be fine, the doctors had said, it looked bad, but she’d recover, nothing too serious. They’d gotten lucky.
But Peter never got lucky. This was someone sending a message, a threat. It had to be. He’d been too late. He hadn’t stopped it. He didn’t know who had done it, not yet. When he found out—well. They wouldn’t get away that easily.
As the shock wore in and daylight began to break and Peter spent hours pacing the waiting room, tugging uncomfortably at the sleeves of his hoodie, he realized.
He’d forgotten his mask.
It had seemed like such a small thing at the time: a matter of life or death versus a little piece of (very expensive, highly engineered) fabric. Letting MJ see that he was there, all there, even when Spider-Man’s choices came back to hit Peter Parker. He loved her with all of him, both halves of his life, even though the line grew less distinct every day. The choice was between her and hiding his face to playact at protecting a secret he didn’t even keep anymore.
It wasn’t a choice.
(If it was, he’d still choose her. He’d choose her every time.)
But he’d forgotten his mask.
Someone was going to find it, cause a fuss, either keep it for a trophy or sell it for some exorbitant amount online. Or maybe they’d think it was worthless, remnants of Halloween still strewn about the city weeks later. Maybe it would end up moldering in a garbage bin on the banks of the East River. Maybe it wasn’t too late, and he could go looking for it, skulking back to the scene of the crime. It wasn’t his best idea, but it wasn’t his worst. He was down to half a suit, and though he’d repaired it plenty of times, making a new mask from scratch would take a while. He could commit to the no-mask look, but it felt wrong. He could dig out the Iron Spider, or go rooting around Tony’s workshop for one of those ultra-high-tech 3D printer situations, which would speed up the whole thing. But going there would bring questions, and Peter didn’t have answers. He wasn’t ready to be coddled or pitied or admit that he’d let this happen, he’d let this happen.
Again.
(There was also the Vegas wedding and the new wife of it all, which was another mess entirely, and he just really didn’t have the energy to wade into it.)
The Tower was out.
If he went to the Tower, if he told the Avengers, they would either, A) laugh at him, or B) try to help him. This was his problem. His alone. He didn’t want help; didn’t need help; couldn’t take help. He couldn’t drag anyone else into his mess, couldn’t risk it happening all over again (and again and again and again).
They said insanity was doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result.
Maybe Peter was insane.
Gwen was dead, and it was his fault, and he couldn’t fix it. Ben was dead, and it was his fault, and he was still working every day to fix it. MJ was hurt, and it was his fault, and he would fix it. Peter would do whatever it took—anything. Anything at all, no matter how much it hurt him. This wasn’t about him; this had never been about him. The second Peter had put on the mask the first time, he’d renounced his right to vanity. Spider-Man was born from guilt. Spider-Man was paying off a life debt that would never be paid. Spider-Man was saving the people he could to make up for the ones he couldn’t. Spider-Man was knowing that he was dangerous—to himself, to his enemies, to the people he loved—and doing all he could to channel it for good. It was pulling his punches and holding back his strength and dousing himself in humor so no one could see how scared he was.
How hurt.
How angry.
Wade always said that the red Deadpool suit hid the blood. Spider-Man’s bug eyes hid the anger. A core of rage, an inferno that he kept at bay, that he’d spent years learning to tame into a gently sparking ember.
But he didn’t have the mask now. He didn’t have the bug eyes. There was nothing to hide it now.
And, he realized, he had another option. It had been a joke at the time, a relic of some bad choices he’d made in college, a bad look for him. He’d stashed it on top of a skyscraper when he and Felicia had collapsed for the final time. Unless she’d come back for it, he had every reason to believe it was still there.
“Wait here,” Peter told May. “Stay with her. I’ll be right back.”
He headed for the street, still in the street clothes she’d brought him, what remained of his suit stashed in a backpack at her feet. She probably thought he was getting bagels. That he’d be back in twenty minutes, maybe. He hated lying to her.
As he swung up and over the city, he didn’t care that people were staring. Let them. They knew, anyway. There was nothing left to hide, and nothing mattered but him and MJ and making this right. This was what he’d been afraid of all along, what he’d dared the Bugle’s readers to do. It was only a matter of time; he was amazed it had taken as long as it had, really.
This part, this trip, was step one.
Step two was making whoever had done this pay.
Step three was making sure it never happened to anyone again.
He was probably long past due to move—they knew his address, they could follow any visitors to his doorstep, and he had some money saved up now. He could afford it. It would only buy him so much time, but it would buy him some (and maybe a real stove, if the hellscape of Manhattan real estate was feeling cooperative).
The real part, the hard part, wouldn’t be so straightforward. There was no guidebook for this kind of thing, and it would hurt. It would near kill him, probably. But she’d get over it, eventually. They all would. Better this than dead.
He found the building quickly, and landed on its roof into a crouch. Web-swinging in jeans was uncomfortable. Stiff, rough, not aerodynamic, and he had a hell of a wedgie. But there was a bundle up ahead, right where he’d left it years ago, webbed deep in the shadows to the back of a gargoyle where no one would think to look. Black and white, easy to miss if you didn’t know where to look. Perfect.
There, on top of the building, he slipped it on. aIt wasn’t as high tech as his old suit, the one he’d abandoned at the hospital with the people he loved most in the world, but it fit. It worked. It would do just fine. Felicia had wanted matching suits, and, barely twenty and ready for a dare, he’d given it a shot. It had felt fake at the time, hollow, a mask in the worst kind of way. That red mask, the one he’d worn for years, that was him. The black suit had been a costume.
But now—now it was a message.
The gloves were off, the lines were crossed. The board was set.
No more.
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Lunch Buddy: Chapter Thirteen
Masterlist
<<Previous Chapter
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Overall Story Facts:
Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers
Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.
Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader
Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense
Chapter 13: Hurt
Chapter Summary: Steve gets hurt and everybody else has to deal with the fallout. Jerk.
Chapter Word Count: 5197
A/N: I know what the next chapter is going to be and we are continuing our trajectory for ~softness~
I was sitting in bed on a beautifully lazy Saturday morning when my phone rang. I glanced over, expecting to have to tell Steve that I wouldn’t be putting on real pants for anything short of the end of the world and he had to come over or nothing, but it was Sam’s name that showed up on the screen.
“Hi Sam,” I answered and paused my game.
“Hey. I’m sorry to call you like this, but I need to tell you– Steve’s fine now, but he got hurt pretty bad.”
I put down the controller and felt a cold something creep through my body. “How bad?”
“He’ll recover just fine,” Sam said. “But some of his injuries–” He inhaled sharply and I gripped my comforter so hard my hand hurt. “Last I heard, he was still in a medically induced coma, but they were planning to take him out of it soon. It’s actually kind of a good thing though; he was hurting really bad and nothing they did was helping.”
“Because pain meds don’t do shit for him,” I said and held my face. How bad was that bad?
“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding regretful. “I had to get back to DC so I couldn’t stay, but he was doing a lot better when I left. Stable, and on his way to healing up. He’s going to be okay.”
Sure, right, yeah; aside from maybe almost dying before I knew anything about it. Not that I was important enough to know– I was just a friend– but… “Do you think they’d let me visit?”
“I think so. There are SHIELD agents keeping watch but…have you met Natasha yet?”
“No. I’ve met Pepper?”
“She might be able to help if you need it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”
Me too, but that was selfish. “Don’t worry Sam, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for letting me know.” I looked at my closet. “Fair warning though– when he’s out of the woods and I stop being freaked out, I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“Nat has dibs I think. He was covering her from an explosion.”
“Fine,” I said. “But if she doesn’t do a good enough job, I’ve got second dibs.”
“I’m not contesting that,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. I’m sleeping on my feet.”
“Are you okay?”
“Don’t worry; I’ll take a nap.”
“Sam.”
“I’ll be fine when I get a chance to sleep for three days. And I’m going to, I promise you that.”
I didn’t have time to nag. “You better. Bye Sam.” As soon as I hung up I jumped out of bed, put on real pants, grabbed some essentials, and bolted out the door so fast I got halfway down the hall before I realized I had to go back and lock it.
I spent the whole trip there panicking and trying not to panic. Sam said he was going to be fine, so Steve was fine, right? But he was in a hospital, and what kinds of injuries could keep Steve in a medically induced coma? The guy fought aliens and broke bones that healed in half the time and once stubbed his toe on the doorframe and didn’t even flinch.
I tried really hard to think about stubbed toes and slammed elbows rather than the myriad reasons one would be admitted to a hospital. Those thoughts carried me into the building, to the map where I could find his wing, and over and into said wing, up until I almost ran into someone. I pulled back to get around them. “I’m so sorry; I–”
They put themself right back in my path and I jerked back to see not just one but two very imposing, militarily inclined men. “Uhhhh….”
“This area is off-limits to unauthorized visitors,” one of them said.
Right; the SHIELD guys keeping watch. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers,” I said and told them my name in vain hopes I might be on a list or something.
The first guy, a sandy blond who looked like he wanted to drop-kick me out the window, shook his head. “Authorized personnel only. The Avengers probably have an address for fans to send well-wishes.”
Even though they had no reason to know who I was, I bristled at his snide tone. “I’m not a fan; I’m his friend.”
The other guy– dark hair, looked like a washed-up TV action star– snorted and he shared a look with the other guy that very clearly said what they thought of me.
“Ma’am,” Blond said. “Please leave or you will be escorted out.”
I felt sick. Steve was hurt and I couldn’t see him and the embarrassment of being seen as some sort of gross hanger-on was almost too much. Almost. I was too worried to be completely mortified, but I still had no recourse. They were dicks, but they were doing their jobs, and for the moment Steve was…safe. I turned, intending to text Pepper and wait in the cafeteria until she could help me (and maybe get a dusty bagel to help soak up the misery), when I almost smacked right into Tony Stark.
What a day.
“I’m– sorry,” I said lamely and moved aside to get around him.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I sighed and told him my name. “I’m a fr–”
“You’re Cap’s little lunch friend,” he said. He knew who I was? Stark waved a hand. “Pepper and Rogers have mentioned you. Well, Pepper mentioned; it feels like Cap brings you up all the time. You going in to visit?”
“I was going to, but–”
“Chickened out?”
“Not allowed, apparently,” I said and jabbed my thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. At least the assholes pretended to be more professional then and stopped snickering, but even Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) peering expectantly at them from the top of designer sunglasses just made knockoff-Stallone shake his head.
“No unauthorized visitors allowed,” he repeated.
“Oh come on; what’s Cap going to say when he finds out you chased off his BFF?”
They looked at me like they still didn’t believe it for a second. Blond said, “I’m sure Captain Rogers will understand we’re just doing our jobs.”
The worst part was that they were right, damn it.
“What does she need? A note from home?” Stark waved his hand. “I can write one; who has paper. We still do paper sometimes, right?”
“She needs proper authorization,” the guy on the right sneered.
“Consider this authorization.”
We all jumped at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit, whose calm smile made him look like the dictionary definition of ‘mild mannered.’ The two guards, however, stood very rigidly at attention. “Sir.”
The new man said my name and extended his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”
I shook his hand and introduced myself properly. “I’m sorry but– am I allowed to–”
“You can visit Captain Rogers whenever you like,” Phil Coulson said and looked right at the guards. “Understood?”
“Yes sir,” they said, much less enthusiastically than their initial acknowledgement to him.
“Not that Captain Unblemished is going to be here that long, but hey.” I suddenly had a small bouquet of flowers in my hands, thanks to Tony Stark. “Since you’re allowed all-access now, can you give these to Cap? I’ve got things to do.”
“Uhh, sur–”
“Thanks, nice meeting you, etcetera et al,” Stark said and left with a dramatic turn.
Somehow I had imagined a little more mocking, maybe a few accusatory points about me ruining some of his fun in poking at Steve, but the guy seemed…annoyed. And not necessarily with me. I turned my head to Coulson, who only shook his. “This last assignment got…complicated,” he said and opened his arm towards the hall. Understatement, but at least I was finally going to get to see Steve. The two…gentlemen…parted, and my second savior (wait until I told Steve who the first was) walked with me.
“He’s right in here,” Phil– Coulson– Phil Coulson said, standing next to an open door with no room number. The inside was very dimly lit, and the curtain drawn halfway over the door blocked the bed from sight, but I felt less like a tension rod.
“Thank you, Mr. Coulson,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused problems.”
“It was no problem for me, and there won’t be more for you,” he said like it was a promise. “And please, Phil is fine. I was on my way out earlier and I’m afraid I still have to go, but it was nice to finally meet you. Hopefully next time we’ll see each other under better circumstances.”
“Yeah, next time. Thank you,” I said and stepped in.
It was so quiet, and mostly dark, aside from a single light off in the corner. Steve was very still in the bed, bruised and bandaged, but I could see his chest moving. He looked roughed up, but he didn’t look comatose. He didn’t even look like he had come close to death. He just looked like he was sleeping.
I set the flowers down on the nearest flat surface and walked slowly, quietly, to the chair next to his bedside, and perched on the edge of it. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I should stay– he was sleeping; was this creepy?– but the more I looked at him the more I settled in. One of his arms was completely wrapped up; there was a bruise on his jaw, closer to his neck than his chin; a strip of stitches on his neck; one, two, three, four, five scratches that I could see, plus a patch of skin that was raw, like it had rubbed against concrete. He didn’t look as bad as I’d expected him to, which I assumed meant all the terrible things had happened on the inside.
But he was breathing. He wasn’t even on oxygen; nothing about the machines around him said he was in dire straits. With a little bit of makeup he could have looked like a hospital patient in a Hallmark movie, ready to wake up and be released at any moment.
But he had been hurt. He had been hurt badly enough that it was a blessing he had been out for the healing process. I didn’t know why I hated that idea so viscerally, but it made me want to punch something.
I sighed. A small tuft of hair hung at a weird angle over his forehead and I brushed it back into place. Then, just to reassure myself, I let my hand hover over his mouth and felt a warm, steady pulse of air.
“They took him out of it earlier.”
I jumped so hard I hit my feet and had to windmill so as not to crash into one of the monitors. Miraculously, I didn’t knock anything over or otherwise make a lot of noise, and Steve didn’t show any signs of waking. Once I was done with my quiet heart attack, I turned to face the woman standing at the end of the bed. She had red hair and eyes sharp enough to cut. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was.
“Uh…hi,” I said and forced my hand down, away from my heart and to my side. I told her my name and waited for her to finish looking me over.
“Natasha Romanoff,” she said.
Yup. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Steve says a lot of good things.”
She barked a laugh. “Did Rogers pay you to say that?”
That was surprisingly harsh, so I kept quiet. I was batting a thousand today. But she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.” She straightened out and looked completely composed. Neat trick. “It’s been a long week.”
“I bet,” I said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She moved her eyes to Steve and frowned. “Annoyed, but that’s not fatal.”
“Yeah, I’d have been dead a long time ago if it was,” I said and shrugged. “But I also would have taken a few jerks out with me, so…win some, lose some, I guess.”
She made a small noise that was neither this way nor that and I shut my mouth before I could embarrass myself further. She walked around to his other side. “Who called you?”
“Sam.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“Not…exactly,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her because I wasn’t sure her current sense of humor would allow for me to fake-threaten our mutual friend, but she looked at me so hard I got my bank information and social security number ready to go just in case she wanted them. “I got upset and made a joke about having dibs on kicking Steve’s ass when he’s better. Sam said actually you had it first since Steve was covering you in some explosion?”
Her lips pressed tight for a moment as she stared at Steve. “He didn’t have to.”
“But he’ll probably argue it when he gets up.” I looked at him. “He’s a jerk like that.”
“Yes. He really is,” Natasha said. She started to reach for him, but then abruptly stepped back. “I’m– I can’t deal with him yet.” She started to leave, but stopped at the edge of the curtain. “Are you staying for a while?”
“I think so.” I pulled out my book to show her and set it on my lap. “I don’t really have much else to do today.”
She nodded curtly. “Good. The rest of us do, but Steve…he doesn’t have the best reaction to waking up in medical. It’ll be better if he has a friend.”
I couldn’t imagine anyone having a great reaction to waking up alone, in a hospital, after almost dyi– “I’m on it,” I said before I could delve too deep into those thoughts.
“Thank you,” she said with a brief burst of warmth that almost made her seem like someone else. Then she was back to being aloof. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”
I didn’t even have time to say “Bye” before the curtain swooshed behind her and settled into place like she was never there.
~
It was a couple of hours before Steve began to stir, and I had only left my seat to stand up and stretch a few times. I didn’t know he was awake at first, until I saw part of the pillow shift, and I put my book on my lap to find him staring at me. Drowsily, but definitely staring.
“Hi.” He squinted and frowned. “Am I dreaming?”
I snorted and put my bookmark in before I set the book on the table. “No. I’m pretty sure your subconscious isn’t that mean to make my face the first one you see.”
He frowned deeper. “My subconscious definitely isn’t that mean to you.”
“Hey, I call it like I see it.” I leaned in closer. We were both quiet, and I was content to stay that way. “I’ve been looking up photos and your teammates are pretty. I mean, Sam alone would be a good sight.”
“Sam is very handsome,” he agreed so easily it made me smile. “But it’s not so bad to wake up to you. Not bad at all.”
“Do they have you on pain meds?” I asked.
He shrugged, and winced as he did so. “Doubt I could tell if they did. I don’t hurt as much anymore, though.”
“Good. That’s good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you're okay.”
He got a small smile. “Soft.”
“Only right now. You scared the shit out of me.”
Steve lost his smile and opened his eyes wider. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just…” It felt like my throat swelled, so I took a second to try and compose myself.
But Steve was alert now and sat up. “Hey, no; come here.”
I didn’t quite know what he meant, until I saw his arms open and, well, why not. I couldn’t help but glance at the door but there was no new noise and nobody I could see, and I leaned in to hug him as gently as I could. He wrapped his arms around me, warm and breathing and feeling like normal. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You scared a lot of people,” I said and stayed there until his grip loosened and I could pull back. “But since I’m selfish, yeah; mostly me.”
He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m glad; I…I guess maybe it’s weird for you that I’m here–”
“It’s not,” he said. “It’s definitely not. I’m just sorry I upset you.”
“It’s an upsetting thing.” I shrugged. “Emotions. They kind of suck.”
“Sometimes,” he said. Someone knocked on the door and we both looked when someone came in. I winced as the lights were turned on, but I suddenly realized Steve had still been holding my hand up until that point, when he released it to rub his eyes.
“Oh, sorry Captain,” the doctor said and she smiled at me. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”
“Oh, hi Dr. Sherazi,” Steve said, sounding a little brighter. He introduced me to her and we shook hands. I was getting a little tired by all the new people, but I tried not to let it show too much. Steve was worse off; I could be okay for him.
“When I said don’t be a stranger this isn’t quite what I meant,” she said and started checking monitors. When she turned to me, face already expressing apologies, I knew what was coming and I looked at Steve.
“Go home.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be okay.”
And I didn’t hide myself that well, apparently, because he gave me a Look that said he knew I’d rather be gone. I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah. I’m going to call Sam and after that I’ll probably be besieged by people wanting to yell at me.” He cringed. “I…don’t want anyone to see that, really.”
I nodded because I didn’t want to be obnoxious, but after I packed up I asked him, “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow? I don’t– I don’t have any plans, really; but it’s okay if you don’t…”
“I’d like that,” he said and opened one arm. I hugged him one more time and took a real breath for the first time since that phone call.
~
The next day I pre-planned my morning and set off with a few extra supplies. I stopped by a pastry shop on the way and stood in a long line to get a drink for me, fill a thermos for Steve, and buy a few treats which I shoved in my bag with his tightly-lidded coffee. When I got to the hallway and saw the same two guards I braced myself, but they looked resigned when they saw me.
“We apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday,” the dark-hair one said and his partner muttered something similar. “And for our reactions; it was uncalled for.”
I tried to smile as brightly as I could. “It’s okay; I can be a bitch sometimes too so, hey, kindred spirits,” I joked.
He frowned. Deeply. My smile fell. “It was a– I was just kidding; I meant–” I sighed and gave up when his face didn’t change. “I’m sorry,” I said and left.
Steve looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I came in and threw the curtain back into place behind me. “Even when I try to be nice I fucking suck at it,” I said and dumped my bag on the chair.
“Good morning to you too,” Steve chuckled and put his fork down. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth and stopped. He looked normal, healthy, but he was still in a hospital bed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and put my drink on the side table so I could rifle through my bag. “Here,” I said and handed him the thermos.
“You're my favorite,” he said fervently and took it.
That made me smile again. Pretty big, too. “Also here,” I said and put the two white bags on his tray. “This place didn’t have strawberry so I got you a chocolate and a plain croissant.”
“You’re my favorite person ever,” he said and pushed the hospital’s plates aside so he could dig in.
“Yeah, yeah; eat it before someone else walks in. I didn’t bring enough to share.” I was the best. My smile was almost painful, but luckily Steve was too distracted to notice while I wrestled it under control. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. The burns are gone.” He held up his arm to show me skin instead of gauze.
“I guess you’re not going to be the mummy for Halloween.”
“No, but I could be Frankenstein’s monster maybe.” He extended his neck to show me the scar where his stitches had been.
“Tch.” I sat back. “It’ll be gone in a few days.”
“Like nothing ever happened,” he quipped, too lightly, but that was an issue I didn’t know how to tackle.
“Except for my new blood pressure medication from the heart attack you gave me.”
“Were you that worried?” he asked jokingly.
“Yes,” I said. He went silent and stopped eating. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with actual concern.”
“I could learn,” Steve said with a softer smile.
“You’ll need to with friends like yours,” I said. “They were all pretty worried.”
He shrugged. “Most.”
Maybe– I hadn’t met all of them– but I was pretty sure I knew who he meant. “I don’t think I would have been allowed in without Tony Stark’s help when he came to visit,” I said. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are some SHIELD guys making sure not just anybody can come in and some random chick claiming to be your friend naturally didn’t make the cut. But when I was about to leave, Tony Stark came up on his way in and made it a thing until Phil Coulson came by and said I could be here.”
“Oh,” Steve said. “I’ll have to thank Tony.”
“Me too, but I’m trying to figure out how,” I said. “I’m thinking the cheesiest fucking card I can find but I don’t think he’d get that I’m joking. That would be awkward.”
Steve smiled. He was about to say something but I caught sight of the book in his lap and I jerked to attention as I suddenly remembered. “I brought you books!” I said and got them out to hand to him. “Just in case you get bored. I almost forgot.”
“Thank you,” he said, laughing, and set them aside. “Did you ‘just remember’ because you know I was going to say something sincere?”
Huh. “No, but wow, I got lucky.”
“Steve, you’ve got to get some friends that aren’t emotionally constipated.”
We both looked to the doorway to see a man with two butterfly bandages on his cheek, a smudge of dirt on his throat (in blatant contrast to his obviously recently washed hair), and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The price sticker was still on the cellophane wrapping and I snorted at the sight. Perfectly coifed spies and billionaires were something else. This guy was an unmistakable disaster. I could handle that.
“But then how would he relate?” I asked as the man came over to give Steve a hug and place his flowers next to the set from Tony Stark.
“I’m way better with my emotions than you are,” Steve said, looking at me as his friend stood up.
“That’s like saying you’re taller than the ground,” I said. His friend laughed and I…took a little pride in that; sue me. Steve then introduced me to Clint Barton.
“Hawkeye,” Clint said and grinned wolfishly. “But if you don’t know who Captain America is then I’ve got no chance.”
I glared at Steve. “You told people about that?”
“It’s funny,” he said, his smirk nearly matching Clint’s grin for deviousness alone.
But Clint’s face fell when he sniffed the air. “Hey,” he said. “It smells like chocolate in here.”
“She brought me a chocolate croissant,” Steve said.
“Aw.” Clint deflated.
“Yeah, it’s all gone. Sorry,” Steve said.
Clint narrowed his eyes. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”
“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully.
Clint looked at me and jerked his thumb in Steve’s direction. “This guy.”
“Yup, he’s an asshole,” I agreed. I looked at Steve. “But for some reason we like him anyway.”
“For some reason.”
Natasha was apparently the queen of sneaky entrances, but I didn’t jump this time. She was a little steely, until she saw me looking, and then she gave me a real smile and greeted me with a hello.
Maybe she was like a shark waiting to bite, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I smiled back. “Hello Natasha.”
“How are you?”
“Oh, I’m all right. You?”
“I’m much better, thank you.”
“I don’t like this,” Clint said, creeping towards the door.
“You two have…met?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. Smart.
“Briefly,” Natasha said.
She and Steve stared each other down and I looked around but Clint was gone. Oh. I looked at them. “Should I leave?”
Steve opened his mouth. “Please,” Natasha said politely, without looking at me. “We won’t be long.”
“Okay.” I stood up and left my bag at the chair, but I hesitated. However the way they looked at each other– Natasha ready to strike and Steve ready to defend– made this completely out of my league. I slipped out the door and shut it behind me.
“Oh geeze,” Clint said.
I sighed and stared at the door. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t necessarily good. “I can’t believe I was so worried about him almost dying only to lose him like this. Unfair.”
Clint patted my shoulder consolingly.
But only a couple of minutes passed before Natasha opened the door, and she wasn’t covered in blood. That seemed like a good sign. Then again, strangling someone wouldn’t cause a whole lot of blood loss. I couldn’t help but peek in first and Clint did the same, but while Steve looked a little stunned, he was still alive.
“Wow,” I said and went back to my seat.
“I have excellent self-restraint,” she said and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “At least we finally got to meet you.” Her tone dipped into teasing. “Steve has been so sly, stealing away all the time for his lunch dates.”
Steve turned red and ducked down. “Come on, Nat.”
“Not very sneaky are you?” I said, even though it was true.
“No, he really isn’t.” Natasha’s lips were tinged with amusement. “But I hear you’re pretty direct yourself.”
I shrugged. “Guilty.” I looked elsewhere. “I don’t have the best filter.”
“You’re fine,” Steve said.
Maybe, but most likely not really. He was probably just being nice to me because I had fallen to pieces the day before. I cleared my throat and sat back when I realized I was leaning close to Steve. I could do this; I could make nice with his friends. I hoped. “By the way Natasha, thanks for that photo of Steve chucking Sam into the water. It’s my desktop background.”
“It’s what?!”
I ignored Steve and so did Natasha, but Clint laughed. Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you appreciated it. It is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.”
I realized something then and dared to get my hopes up. “Steve. Surfing. Is there video?”
“Of course” and “Of course not” came in unison from Natasha and Steve respectively, and he whipped his head in her direction so fast I heard his neck crack.
“Natasha,” he pleaded.
“That’s very valuable blackmail though,” she told me. “I have stories that would unseat politicians I’d charge less for.”
“How much to peek at stills?”
“I’m sure your job is lovely, but it’s still probably more than you make.”
“A recounting of the experience?”
“Hmm…how detailed?”
“I’ll take subject-verb-object at this point.”
“Steve surfed wave.” Her lips curled devilishly. “Wave surfed Steve.”
“Two sentences?” I gasped.
“Well, I like you,” she said.
“Hey Clint,” Steve said. “Do me a favor and tell the doc I want those experimental pain meds she was trying to talk me out of. Or just, anything that makes me unconscious so I don’t have to hear Nat get sweet-talked into giving up that video.”
“Wow, you really do believe in me,” I said. “It’s okay though, my imagination can take it from here.”
Steve’s mouth screwed downwards. “I have no friends. Everyone I love is dead to me.” He looked thoughtful. “Or dead.”
That was so delightfully dark it shocked me into laughter, and Clint too by the sound of it. Natasha, however, punched him so hard he actually said “Ow!” and rubbed his arm.
I stayed with them for a couple of hours, until my patience began to fray and I started checking the clock. Not that Natasha and Clint weren't great (I might have fallen a little in love with her when she made a “Die Hard” joke so wonderfully dumb that Clint got caught up in a groan while he laughed) but I was just…getting tired. Before I could attempt some pathetic excuse, though, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.
Pepper: You might want to warn Steve that Tony is on his way.
“Oh boy,” I said and fired off a quick ‘thanks.’ When I looked up they were all staring at me, and I looked at Steve to get my grounding. “Pepper just said Tony Stark’s on his way.”
“‘Oh boy’ is right.” Steve grimaced. “You should probably go before he gets here.”
I hesitated, because that seemed a little crappy, however…I knew my limits. “Yeah, I– I don’t think I have the energy for him.”
“Don’t worry.” Natasha took a seat. “We’ll supervise.”
“Aww,” Clint said, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. How someone could lean almost 180 degrees in a chair that was very solidly 90 degrees (if not less) and even pretend to look comfortable I had no idea, but more power to him.
I packed up and stopped to hug Steve. He held me a little longer than I expected. “Don’t worry; I’ll be out by tonight,” he said and let go. “And as soon as I’m done with debriefs, I’ll let you know. I still owe you lunch.”
“So you better stick around.” I stood. “I’ll collect. Someday.”
“I won’t hold my breath on that one,” he said.
I held my heart and looked in Clint and Natasha’s direction. “He’s learning.”
I got a pillow to the face, but Natasha got a new cushion. And while Steve may have been annoyed…he was okay. And he was going to continue to be okay.
Win-win.
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#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers & reader#captain america fanfic#avengers fanfic#reader insert#lunch buddy
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DuckTales 2017 - "A Nightmare on Killmotor Hill!"
Story by: Francisco Angones, Emmy Cicierega, Madison Bateman, Colleen Evanson, Christian Magalhaes, Bob Snow
Written by: Emmy Cicierega
Storyboard by: Vince Aparo, Emmy Cicierega, Victoria Harris, Ben Holm
Directed by: Tanner Johnson
A sweet dream.
The episode begins with a big friend-adversary sleepover for Lena, and Webby, the Nephews, and her newest friend Violet were all invited. Even she does not really know if it's been a year since they met, so nobody should think about that too hard. She made them cake, and she even made friendship bracelets for all of them! The boys question how she can be so nice, and Lena says there's no way she can't do something nice for her friends in a tone that does not convince them. The cake making her look like The Slender Man probably did not help.
After accidentally making the candle flame flare up in an evil way, Lena laments that she's just too new to this "good guy" thing. Webby attempts to comfort her by saying that being Magica's living shadow and still being good is good enough, and I can see where Webby is coming from. I honestly forgot she was ever an outright bad guy. Sure, she worked for Magica for most of Season 1, but it's not like she had a choice in the matter. It looked like she had a choice, until Magica revealed she could just take over her body whenever Lena strayed too far from her. While I was taken aback by that at first, the reveal that she's a shadow and not a niece did soften that for me.
Going back to the present, where she is at least an 80% good guy now, Webby prepares for the best friend-adversary sleepover ever, as Lena looks aside with a worried look on her face.
That worry could be a reason why this sleepover does not have that much sleeping. It's 4 AM, and everyone but Lena wants to go to sleep. Even Mrs. Beakley went to sleep, though her spy talent to sleep with her eyes open makes Louie question that. Lena goes to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, because she really, really doesn't want to have any bad dreams tonight.
Lena: Like Webby said, I don't have to prove anything. Bad dreams can't hurt you.
As if she said "nothing bad could possibly go wrong", Lena starts to get some black strands in her hair feathers, and her eyes go yellow with triangles, much like that evil witch that cast her. As Webby knocks on the door to ask if she needs any you-know-what paper, Lena snips and inevitably gets ready for the next sleepover game...
...actually going to sleep. Lena being out of the room turned out to be a good reason to get that precious sleep. Webby tells Lena that she knows her secret. Simply put, she does not, as she assumes Lena is afraid of the dark. Looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, Lena closes her eyes, and her and her surroundings are shrouded with pink rings.
Lena and the rest of the sleepover suddenly wake up on a deserted island. Louie tries to phone Scrooge for help, only for his phone to have emojis instead of numbers. While doing an okay job at improvising what his "number" would have been, it then turns into a banana. Then a unicorn shows up to give Webbigail the opportunity to go through an extreme obstacle course.
Magically given a top hat and a cane much like her idol, Webby is excited that this mission of her dreams is happening! Lena tries to deny that dreams has anything to do with this, but, Violet says this could be a lucid shared dream state caused by Lena's magical powers. She proves this by making a living flower pop up in her hand, and asks Lena if she's been having any bad dreams.
Lena: Okay. (pulls up black hair) No more secrets.
This one line really shows Lena's character in this episode. She has to continuously hide her feelings while evil seems to sprout from her being, while everyone else gets to enjoy this wacky ride through their dreams. An easy tell for this plot is when the boys decide to take this dream world opportunity to fly in the sky.
Lena gets horrifying evil bat wings that fit the horrifying evil personality she is trying to run away from. Needless to say, she decides to walk. As for the unicorn ends up blinking out of existence, as nobody was around to dream him.
Eventually, that walking turns into running, as she runs away from a giant tree-like-hand in a purple forest. We don't quite get exactly what this hand is supposed to represent yet.
After falling into a hole, she gets up as all of the others land after a great time flying in the sky. We can tell because it's all blue, and that's something that will be consistent with everyone except for Webby's. I guess they wanted to have this being a dream be a surprise, or maybe she's the only one who could dream in color. I would not put it beyond her.
We get to see that school does exist in the DuckTales universe...at least in Dewey's dreams, where he's the biggest teenage star in the school. Clearly inspired by a certain Disney Channel Original Movie, he's a musically-inclined basketball jock teenager who is so cool, even his hair does a thumbs up.
And that's only the tip of the Dewey-berg, as Dewey shows off all the beauty of his dream. He can get basketballs from the tap, perfect for when Lena accidentally busts one open with her suddenly appearing talons. He has a love interest that hasn't formed because he's still terrified of such a concept. Considering the alternative, I am so glad that is the case. There's also this out-of-place section that apparently appears in all of Dewey's dreams, where we see a Dewey crying on a moon made of all of his tears.
Huey: I have some theories.
Distracting from all of that, we have a lovable mascot character named Dewey Dude. He's the best! That silly duck can teleport around, sneak up behind Lena, and, while only Lena is looking, he can even take his head off to reveal...
Magica De Spell: Miss me?
As far as Lena could tell, Magica De Spell had regained her magical powers somehow, and is in a mission to goad her former shadow into embracing the dark side. She pulls down a fire alarm, causing the sprinklers to start, which, because this is Dewey's dream, turns out to be Pep. It's easy to get the chills from this scene...I cannot imagine that Pep could get out of their feathers that easily, even in a dream.
Dewey is not too happy that his dream has been soaked, even if he takes his time drinking that sugary substance. This doesn't become a theme. Louie decides to go into one of the lockers into his dream, and we learn that that they spent all of their creativity points on Dewey and Webby. Definitely the former.
To be fair, how much water can you squeeze out of Louie being a cat? Being a lazy cat who may or may not have a taste for lasagna is pretty fitting for Louie in any case. While everyone else, except for Huey who is just irritated by this, Lena shows up as a rabid dog. Dream Mrs. Beakley, speaking in gibberish to enhance that dream feeling, calls on the dog catcher. Guess who? I kind of wish they found more ways to dress up Magica; most of the time, she just shows up with her hand outstretched.
But what about Huey's own dreams? Dewey already has school-related dreams, so playing on Huey's intelligence by making him go to a super-university for the super-intelligent would be a little redundant. Instead, he just has bigger legs. Not because he wants to be a baller, which would also be made redundant by that lovable blue scamp, but just because he can reach high places. Even the others make fun of how generic this is, and Magica does not even show up.
Instead, Dewey, of course it had to be Dewey, decides to interrupt that leg plot that was going nowhere into a montage. Literally, he says he wants to do a montage, and it happens, because dreams! We see Dewey riding on the Spear of Selene, which could also lead to theories, and we see all of kids walking around a candy rain, with Huey chasing after. It's a neat reference to "Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!"
Speaking of references to previous episodes, "What Ever Happened To Donald Duck?!" had Dewey pretend that a Phooey exists beyond an old comics in-joke. In this episode, we get to see him as a dream construct! We finally have a canon representation of this character in this reboot's universe, and that is something I did not expect to see.
This montage flawlessly ties in Lena's part of the plot by having Magica show up again and again. That candy rain ends with Lena getting a rotten apple. Phooey turns around to reveal Magica's face. The Launchpad whale...actually doesn't do anything else other than have something weird for the trailers, but we do see Magica creepily climbing up a chasm.
The kids do the opposite of climbing, as they literally drop into Violet's dream world, where all she does is read books in a library. I can attest that one can definitely read in dreams, despite what that Batman episode might say. Yes, that is all I really have for this one. Violet does not get to do much in this episode. She's only here because she's the most fitting character to explain that lucid dream thing, and because it would be odd to have the new friend from the last Lena episode be left out.
One character that wishes she was left out is Lena, who gets a small glimmer of hope when Scrooge's knocking ends up getting into the dream. Unfortunately, that hope turned out to be false, as it wasn't enough for Lena to wake up. I would imagine the sleep deprivation from earlier did not help. She eventually falls into her black sweater, and the rest of them fall after her to see the cliched scary evil castle. The cliche works very well, since this is supposed to be Lena's dream getting to her most evil point.
In the end, after having an unwanted talk with Magica, she can't stop herself from becoming a monster, as much as she denies it. In fact, she even says:
Lena: (turning into a monster) I AM NOT A MONSTER!
The rest of the kids barge into the door in their dream-sonas to confront who they think is Magica De Spell. Dewey has his basketball skills, Huey has his legs, and Louie even gets to use his cat-like abilities as an actual cat. As for Violet, she just looks the same as she always did. Again, not much to her in this episode.
Unfortunately, Magica-Lena turns out to be too powerful, as basketballs and cats do nothing to her. Huey's legs do not even do anything to Magica-Lena; he just bumps into a chandelier that loosens and stars to fall on where Webby is standing. Oh, not again! Lena does manage to save Webby this time, and, because, this proves that, despite her current looks, she's still the "good guy" Lena.
Well, that, and she was wearing Lena's friendship bracelet, so it must be the real Lena. It would have been hard to see because they forgot to draw it until Webby talks about it.
This all ends with a big tug-of-war between the "good guys" and the Magica in the mirror, sort of summarizing the Lena plot from Season 1 in a more abstract way. It's here where the friendship bracelets come in; it's neat to see that come full circle.
At first, I thought there was going to be some sort of cop-out. I was just waiting for Lena to wake up and realize that this whole scenario was just a bad dream, and that the others were just sleeping as usual. That doesn't turn out to be the case, thankfully.
In fact, there is quite a bit more to this than I expected! I would have been fine with certain elements just being in Lena's head, but the ending throws a small but significant twist that will be expanded on in a future episode.
How does it stack up?
Another episode in the Lena plot, and another one with some twists and turns. Just like the last one, I'm going to put this in the Jaw$ column as well.
Next, gentlemen, behold! Corn(ielius)!
← Happy Birthday, Doofus Drake! 🦆 The Golden Armory of Cornelius Coot →
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Sosig
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I think I’ve unintentionally gone and worried Marc that I’m angry with him.
He’s already apologized twice for his “stuff”, but I married a man who loves stuff, and he married a woman who hates it, and I’m OK with that. Which isn’t to say I don’t at times hate the stuff and wish it was all gone, but I’m certainly not angry at him about it.
I will admit that it does help when he occasionally looks at all and is like, “Wow, I really need less of this, don’t I?” Those are exciting moments for me, to be sure.
I have quite a few things to talk about but I’ll save that for later. I pored through the art supplies and culled another big pile, although there are yet more piles in the upstairs hall that will need to get stashed somewhere in the wings of the attic. It’ll all get sorted eventually, one day at a time. Now that the laser cutter is in place I can actually start putting that nonsense away myself.
We’ve worked it out that we’ll divide the closet in the geek room into thirds, with me using the top and bottom thirds for storage (we can curtain it off so it’s less of an eyesore) and the middle third being set up to display his toys or other collectibles.
The long-term goal, of course, is for the art supplies to slowly get winnowed down as I finish projects and sell them.
Ahhhhh how I make myself laugh.
We had a fun day out yesterday at RetroCon, although these are also the days that remind me I am slowly and gradually (maybe not so gradually...) losing patience for a certain type.
Look... we are nerds. All our friends are nerds. I love that about us. But there is a type of nerd that my tolerance gauge has hit E on.
If you cannot get a haircut (or at least run a comb through your hair), shower regularly (WITH SOAP), and keep your nails trim and clean, please just... keep a distance from me.
One such dude was camped out next to us at the (standing room only) concert after the convention, wherein they tossed some Pokeball balloons into the crowd to bat around, and I had to keep dodging this guy’s arms and elbows as he wildly tried to swat the Pokeball.
YOU’RE A GROWN MAN.
Also, if you are six-foot-something, and you and your friends have just come from the Exceedingly Tall and Broad People’s Symposium, maybe don’t immediately park yourselves like a wall in front of people who are a full head shorter than you. I don’t feel like I own a particular place in the crowd, but the constant, selfish jockeying for a better position, including people arriving late and sneakily trying to infiltrate into spaces that they have no right occupying, put me a little on edge.
Never mind all that, we had a great time. The costumes these people wear are so, so amazing. Sang our hearts out, all that.
I was a huge fan of Transformers toys and cartoons in the 80s, losing interest some time around when the post-movie series eventually ran out of episodes. I had a resurgence in the late 90s / early 2000s, when I found a Transformers-themed MUSH and made a lot of friends who enjoyed roleplaying.
I had two OCs on the MUSH -- an Autobot named Flashback and a Junkion named Muse. I likely would have had a ton more, but it was exceptionally difficult to get applications approved.
(Out of curiosity I checked to see if the MUSH was still alive, but it looks like it closed its doors in the early part of this year after a long period of inactivity). Last time I logged on as a guest at TLK MUCK there were zero connections.
I was just talking on Facebook about the MUCK I started to build and wiz based on Disney’s Gargoyles cartoon. I need to sit down and roughly sketch out the OC I’d created for it, as well as Flashback. Freshen up their designs, just for fun.
Speaking of art, while at RetroCon Marc and I stumbled upon the booth of an artist named Mark Watts. He was the one who did all the original box art for the Transformers toy line! We spent a good twenty minutes chatting with him, and ended up buying this really neat art frame that transforms (really!) into a table. It came with three prints of his original work, plus he threw in one of the Transformers prints as well.
It turns out his wife is a writer, and possibly interested in publishing her work, so at his request I dropped him a line so I can chat with her about those things. Just a super nice guy, and he only lives about 20-30 minutes from us to boot. Who knew?
This morning we had bagels and coffee, and I sprayed down the thistle with vinegar again. I need to get out to Agway and see if they have a higher concentration, maybe that will do the trick. Tonight, Quorn roast and mashed potatoes, and hopefully the temperature will come down again to make a nice cup of coffee seem like not a terrible idea.
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Ooh there are a lot of good prompts on that new list for newmann... would you consider either “Romeo and Juliet of the math and English(bio) departments” and/or “You’re the school dork and and I’m the school jock and fuck you can see where this is going?” 💕
hahaha “Romeo and Juliet” may be stretching it a bit bUT I TRIED
Gotham Community College is a dark and imposing building; the architecture is gothic, the walls darkened with decades of dust, and imposing gargoyles crouch on the outside. Rumours have it that, if you don’t know where you’re going, you’ll get trapped in the labyrinthine corridors.
Baseless rubbish, of course—Hermann knows, for a fact, that there are hall monitors that are tasked to guide lost students; it’s unlikely, nigh impossible to become trapped within thee school.
“—the ghost of Hermann Gottlieb,” Geiszler pauses dramatically. “He was trapped here years and years ago, and sometimes, if you listen really hard—”
Hermann sighs as he catches the tail-end of the conversation. “Doctor Geiszler,” he calls sternly, tamping down a smug smile when the other practically jumps out of his skin. “Please, stop telling the students I’m dead. And I’ve asked you not to refer to me by my first name in front of others. I am a doctor with over ten years of decorated—”
Geiszler cuts him off. “Oh, yes, ten years, I’m so very sorry!” He turns back to the gaggle of students. “Ignore Hermann, he’s just a grump.”
“Geiszler,” Hermann hisses, and the other rolls his eyes.
“Alright, alright,” he huffs, “c’mon, guys. See you, Doc.” He winks and bounds down the hall. Hermann lets out a long-suffering sigh. Geiszler, he thinks derisively. The man is altogether too immature for his position—he wears ripped jeans, for god’s sake. Regardless, something about the man draws him in, like the size of his ego has generated its own gravity field.
Quite likely, actually, Hermann muses internally, lips curling at the corners. It’s…charming, if one looks at it from a certain point, he supposes.
-
“You are not,” Tendo says, rolling his eyes. Newt pouts.
“C’mon, man,” he whines, “we are totally the Romeo and Juliet of the Math and Biology departments.”
Tendo takes another bite out of his bagel, and says, as if explaining to a small child that the sky is, indeed, blue, “Newt, he hates you. And you hate him.”
“That’s what you think,” Newt shoots back, wagging his finger at the IT professor. “You’ll see—I’m gonna have him swooning at my feet by the end of the year.”
Tendo’s sigh is only half-hearted. “Didn’t Romeo and Juliet die?” he questions, “I mean, not to put a damper in your fun, dude, but, uh…”
“What—? No!” Newt exclaims. “Look, we’re Romeo and Juliet, minus the dying.”
“Then it’s not Romeo and Juliet, is it?” Tendo points out. Newt frowns at him and turns away from him.
“Whatever, dude,” he huffs. “You’ll see—I’m gonna woo him so damn good.”
See, the thing is.
The thing is.
Newt’s got…well, he’s got a crush on Hermann. Big time. And, well. He kind of wants to impress the guy.
So he does some research on courting.
“Well,” he announces to the empty room, “this is fucking useless. Who the hell establishes rules like “the courter cannot remain alone with the object of the courting for any period of time”? What the hell.”
So he scraps that and goes with Plan B.
Plan B is…cheesy. Cliched.
-
“What are these?” Hermann asks flatly, eying Newt like he’s contagious.
“Flowers, dude!” Newt beams, shoving them at the mathematician. “For you!”
Hermann frowns. “Whatever for?”
Newt resists the urge to bang his head against the wall. “For. You. From. Me,” he says, slowly. “As in, I’m asking you out. As in, for a date.”
Hermann blinks at him rapidly. “…what.”
“Well?” Newt asks, getting impatient. “Yes, no, maybe? Or, even “go to hell”? I need an answer, dude.”
Hermann’s silent for a moment, before he says, “Flowers are a cheap method of seduction, Newton. You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Then he strides away.
Newt grins and punches the air the moment he’s out of earshot. He called me Newton! he cheers internally.
Aloud, he says, “You’re on, dude. I’m gonna impress the fuck outta you.”
#prompt#prompt fic#newmann#newt is...in deep...#newt is also stupid competitive#newton geiszler#hermann gottlieb#pacific rim#fanfic#ask#spinecorset writes
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Ep 21 In Which a Rescue Mission Commences
Previously on Saffron and Peri...
During the opening ceremony for the new library, Tristan and his friends, Rose Red and Nyneve, undertake a daring plan to steal a book of possibly evil magic to destroy it for the good of all. However, after a narrow bagel escape from gargoyles, the three discover someone has beat them to it, and the library is under attack!
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me, perched cross-legged on the kitchen counter in the near-complete darkness, hunched over like some ancient gargoyle, eating a bagel
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AWAKENINGS (1990)
“AWAKENINGS” is cause for rejoicing, a literate and compassionate film in this season of chintz and barbarism. A sweetly stirring drama in the spirit of "Rain Man," it explores the mutual gain in a union between an emotionally handicapped man and his neurologically disabled friend. Featured here are Robin Williams and Robert De Niro, attuned as bow and fiddle in their roles of a clinical psychiatrist and the catatonic patient he awakens from a sleep of 30 years.
Based on the book by Oliver Sacks, the story takes place in 1969 in a Bronx chronic-care hospital for those with the most profound neurological diseases. Williams plays Malcolm Sayer, an absent-minded, gentle genius partly modeled on the celebrated medical writer. He is a retiring soul, a wallflower turned inward, whose last job was to extract one dekagram of Milontin from four tons of earthworms.
"Everyone said it couldn't be done," he says. "It can't," observes the pragmatic hospital chief (John Heard), who is considering him for a job. "I know that now," Sayer returns, and in an economy of patter, we know all we need to know about this thoroughly lovable and obstinate fellow with his high-water pants, white socks and brown shoes. Willing to battle either windmills or higher authorities, he is a kind, decent man, and that is the real secret behind the success of this movie.
Leonard Lowe, played by De Niro, is harder to get to know at the onset, for he is essentially a vegetable in what the staff calls the garden. Patients are fed, watered and kept clean, but never ever expected to recover. Many were admitted 30, 40 and 50 years ago, and no doctor has even bothered to review their records. But Sayer is more than a doctor; he is a kind of charming lunatic.
A reclusive researcher who suddenly finds himself practicing on patients, Sayer is unnerved by the more hysterical ones -- like the mountainous Waheedah (Waheedah Ahmad), who is terrified of pens. It seems only natural that he would be drawn to Lowe, one of a cluster of patients as immutable as gargoyles. Though they can neither speak nor move of their own accord, Sayer is haunted by the possibility that they could all be alive inside -- an alternative one doctor (Max Von Sydow) calls "unthinkable."
His concern and curiosity aroused, Sayer sets out to solve this medical mystery and in so doing comes up with a possible treatment, which he tests first on Lowe. Of course, the other doctors either scoff or shudder at his schemes, but after swallowing increasingly higher doses of an experimental drug, L-dopa, Lowe miraculously wakens. Something of a sleeping beauty, he is an endearing, childlike individual who gently nudges Sayer out of his own emotional dormancy and into his own awakening. They become colleagues in testing the boundaries of being.
Lowe, delighted with the simplest things -- the breeze from a fan, brushing his teeth -- never complains about what he has lost, only relishes what he has gained. Unfortunately, the side effects of the drug turn his resurrection into a plague of spasms and mania. But he insists on continuing the experiment: "L-l-l-earn from me," he stammers.
De Niro's performance is a physical wonder, a stony guise that gives way to a sideshow of wracking tics. Underlying that is a zest for living that fairly breaks our hearts as it complements Williams's comically tentative bedside manner. They are as happily paired as bagels and cream cheese.
"Awakenings," the third film by Penny Marshall, is in its heart of hearts a buddy movie, a dramatic structure as reliable as an oaken barrel. Marshall, who directs from Steven Zaillian's economic screenplay, wins a chain of lustrous performances from an eclectic cast that includes Julie Kavner as Sayer's sympathetic nurse; Penelope Ann Miller as Lowe's enchanting love interest; Keith Diamond as an enthusiastic orderly; and the late Dexter Gordon, appearing for the last time on film, as another of Sayer's awakened patients.
Marshall masterfully plays our strings without becoming either melodramatic or maudlin. Like Brian De Palma's "Bonfire of the Vanities," hers is an adaptation that ends with a wake-up call, only here it's done successfully and in context. "Awakenings" tells us that we have not only lost our way but that we are also sleeping at the wheel. We have forgotten what matters -- "friendship, family ... the simplest things" -- and it would tenderly resurrect us from our lassitude.
Director: Penny Marshall
Cast: Robert De Niro; Robin Williams; Julie Kavner; Ruth Nelson; John Heard; Penelope Ann Miller; Max von Sydow
Children under 13 should be accompanied by a parent
By Rita Kempley
Washington Post Staff Writer
January 11, 1991
© Copyright 1999 The Washington Post Company
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Evony Techniques Tips And Also Tactics.
Urban areas thrive, unseen, underneath the streets of Nyc Area as well as Las Vegas. However it was actually all pure pleasure - the straying roadway, climbing up, dipping, and also sweeping about the developing propels; the flush of the morning laid along the far-off snowfalls; the branched cacti, tier upon tier on the stony hillsides; the vocals of a 1000 water-channels; the babble of the monkeys; the solemn deodars, going up one after another with down-drooped branches; the panorama of the Plains presented much underneath them; the unceasing twanging of the tonga-horns and bush surge of the led equines when a tonga swung cycle a curve; the stops for prayers (Mahbub was actually quite religious in dry-washings and also bellowings when time did certainly not press); the night meetings due to the halting-places, when beiges and also bullocks chewed solemnly all together as well as the stolid drivers said to the headlines of the Roadway - all these things elevated Kim's heart to track within him.
I visited NYC in 2011 as well as checked out the property as well as it is actually the structures on Central playground West possessed labels like The Dakota, The San Remo, http://zdrowie-piekno.info/promienna-cera-6-punktow-dla-oszalamiajacej-skory/ The Beresford, The Eldorado I had a close friend that resided in the Eldorado as well as she resided on some of the higher floorings where the interior of the structure becane strangely reminiscent of an Aztec holy place along with coated gargoyles and also birds sculpted in to royalty program a great deal of popular people survived on the playground on Central Park Norh, fifth opportunity and also Central Park West and also u sasw all of them all the time they recognized u and u knew them and always stated hi, this was actually technique before all this celebrity-fueled nonsense.
Joshua 24:2 - And Joshua claimed unto all people, "Hence saith the GOD The lord of Israel: 'Your dads harped on the opposite side of the stream in old time, also Terah, the dad of Abraham and the papa of Nahor; as well as they provided various other gods.
Except perambulating along with your head down examining your cellular phone (certainly not suggested), a Venice walking tour is actually the most effective way of learning more about the record of the area in a simply edible method. When folks inquire to provide on it, it is actually an entire lot various.
If you and your spouse talk a lot however carry out certainly not properly connect with each other, at that point permit me propose that you create this a concentration of your marriage from now on. I may assure you that your relationship will definitely grow when each of you appreciates as well as recognizes your companion's feelings, yearns for as well as wishes coming from your marriage.
A number of weeks earlier Richie Porte and I had actually possessed yet another of our adventures this time carrying out a 6000m of going up altitude day which took us 10hrs. Awake, awake; place on thy strength, Zion; applied thy beautiful garments, Jerusalem, the divine metropolitan area: for henceforth there shall say goodbye to come into thee the uncircumcised and also the unclean.
They offer you a reason to tour the metropolitan area as an electronic vacationer, running, swinging and also finally framing well-known spots including Times Square and the United Nations Headquarters. The big apple as it stands today is counter to most of the suitables that drive individuals to move there.
Trucks transporting products from one stockroom to yet another as well as flocks of locals strolling to work, college, or even the nearby bagel establishment. Our company moved only in daytime for security reasons. I would like to find it all but I've only visited the pyramids the moment (hilarious cos i've been to cairo lot of times as well as also resided in egypt for a while).
Virtual or even plastic worldwide phone card provide folks a possibility to make telephone call coming from the United States to the other metropolitan area in the United States, coming from the USA to some other abroad nation, coming from a foreign country to the United States and coming from a foreign nation to a few other abroad nation.
Immigrants, pupils and also musicians thrive around, enticed by its own feeling of past and cosmopolitan really feel in addition to its really good dining establishments and also fashionable pubs. Unsurprisingly, many movies including abundant, influential individuals, rapid automobiles, luxury and status, utilize the city of Greater london as a backdrop.
10:13 NKJV) Our team therefore happen residing virtually the method our team will have possessed our experts never ever complied with the gospel except that our company undergo the physical exercise of inquiring The lord's forgiveness from time to time.
Explore the Ferrari Globe, after the urban area scenic tour pertains to a conclusion as well as experience the adventure of several flights of the amusement park. Sugary food's Catalog of 1906 additionally features the above Cross Horizontal Foldable Doors" supplied through George N. Cole of Cross Storehouse Doors in New York City City.
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