#dev patel PLEASE DO THIS TO ME PLEASE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherryblossom-enthusiast · 1 month

Text

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.” You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he’s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

#fanfic #x reader #smut #dev patel #fanfiction #fluff #monkey man #monkey man 2024 #monkey man spoilers #the kid #y/n #monkey man fanfiction #monkey man fanfic #the kid x reader #angst #retribution

288 notes · View notes

chaithetics · 1 month

Note

GIRLLLL OMGGGG YOUR MONEKY MAN FIC HELLO?? HELLOOOO???? so good. i just came back from watching it and wtf. now that is how u direct and that is how u make a profound film. (i’m glazing him and this film so hard but idc i just want 1 chance dev PLS JUST GIMME 1 ONE IS ALL I NEED) also r u indian? cuz when i saw the “jaan” i read it it in his voice and my knees literally almost hit the ground like i was like 😧🌚😜😍🤭🤭😋😋🤤🥰 the whole time!!! if i may, can i request another monkey man fic/drabble/whatever u wanna make it but it’s about how they met? basically like a backstory on how they met and got together. thank youuu! 🫶🏽

Blood-Stained Meetings, Nauseous Introductions

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader Word count: 2.6K Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries/blood, longing, reader has no physical description, a kiss, no smut. Not proof or beta read. A/N: Hey lovely Nonnie, so glad you enjoyed the film! It's so good! Dev Patel is so talented. I hope you and everyone else reading this and in the fandom enjoys this fic! 🫶(Please do and validate me, I'm scared it's TERRIBLE and I'm not happy with this, genuinely terrified lol) Comments, reblogs etc. are always more than appreciated and encouraged! Enjoy 🥰 Gif by @junkfoodcinemas Somewhat inspired by an old chat with the talented @mittos about how reader would probably hate seeing him fight, and tagging @lialilalo because I feel bad about ending up taking a week to get this out since your ask!

Sure, there were probably worse ways to spend a Friday night, but you also knew that there were definitely much better ways to spend a Friday night as well. But you simply weren’t the kind of person who did better things on a Friday night, that wasn’t in your DNA. Obviously. This was your brother's idea of fun after all.

It didn’t surprise you that this was how your adult brother wanted to spend the start to his weekend and drag you along, or that this was a frequent pastime of his. It didn’t mean that it horrified you any less though.

You’d sighed and dreaded this for hours, days probably, subconsciously.

Yet, you still were here. You’d changed out of your work clothes for this, you’d tried to make yourself as presentable as possible when you knew it was an effort you’d see reflected in your brother. You were dreading leaving your home and having to blend into the sea of bloodthirsty betters you were about to find yourself in.

You walk with your brother and one of his friends into the building, it’s large and crowded. Everyone is packed in like sardines as they yell about what odds they’re betting on, who’s the biggest and strongest, who’s the most nimble-footed and quickest, and who is the immediate runt of the competitors. You can already feel yourself becoming stressed, at this environment. You don’t understand the appeal of this but you understand how it can become a reality with the world that you’re all in.

The heat stings your face like a slap, as you stand there, close to your brother so you don’t get split up in this sea and he rambles in your ear about who he placed a bet on, how they usually do. All of the information that seems so important in a moment like this to everyone else. But you’ve seen enough blood, you don’t need to be fascinated by people getting bloodied up like this. It’s a privilege that you’ve been able to avoid this your whole life.

If you were seeing this at home, or if it wasn’t so packed in here tonight, you’d feel a little less self-conscious. And if you felt a little less self-conscious, you’d be chewing on your nails, all the way down to the nail bed. Until you felt the all too familiar sting of going too far. You give your hand a little shake to try and get rid of that urge, now’s not the place or time to wear your nerves on your sleeve. So instead, you try to offer up a small smile to your brother as he leads you to a spot on some benches nearby.

The bench is relatively close to the ring, but it’s good, you’re already overstimulated and trying to make it up further to higher seats isn’t an idea that agrees with you right now, and it surely promises you a quick exit if needed. You look around, the dim lighting further adds to everything, your eyes scan the faces of those in the crowd and you look out at the ring. It’s big, you think, but you’re not sure if it’s a standard size or not for this sport.

An announcer enters the ring, he looks sleazy and has a large, sly smirk pasted onto his face, one that makes you uncomfortable. You look at your brother to try and share a knowing glance but he’s focused on what’s in front of you both. You let out a quiet sigh as you tilt your head back to focus on what’s in front of you.

The announcer opens his mouth and he speaks in a South African accent, that surprises you and you can’t help but look at your brother again. He announces himself as Tiger. This night is already so random, and you have a feeling that it’s only going to get more wild.

“He’s the owner.” Your brother says as he tilts his head to whisper loudly in your ear. You can hear him over the whooping, clapping, and chants that have started. You nod as you look back at the ring, trying to pay attention to what you’re going to soon witness. Despite how overwhelming it all is.

Tiger then introduces a fighter who’s dressed to almost look like a reptile, he’s introduced as King Kobra and gets a warm, adoring welcome from the audience with thunderous applause and cheers. You don’t clap as you can’t help but look around instead, taking it all in. It’s a lot and there’s so many people here, here just for this.

Tiger then starts to introduce King Kobra’s opponent, his voice changes and it’s tinged with an antagonising disgust, he’s clearly trying to rile the audience up into booing, and not rooting for whoever it is. You can’t help but feel your curiosity grow at that. It feels childlike how it’s said, but you see the audience respond just as Tiger wishes. The opponent is Monkey Man, he quickly comes out and makes his way into the ring. He moves quickly and he bounces on his feet for a moment as he gets further into the zone. He stands there, waiting for the noise to confirm it’s the start, the start of a fight where he can maybe get one or two punches in before he has to keel over for his pay. Pay that he’ll probably have to bargain for.

He stands in the ring and he can’t help but spend a second focusing on the face he sees in the front row. Kid is sure he hasn’t seen that face here before, it’s a pretty face, but he can’t help but notice the anxiety pooled in those eyes or your body language. He tilts his head slightly, it doesn’t seem to be the kind of anxiety some of the gamblers here have before the match, the ones who are risking it all for an expensive thrill and painful rush, to live vicariously through him and the other men adorned in animal masks and names.

Kid turns his head away from you and tries to focus back on his work. You don’t even notice that the man in the ring has been staring at you, taking you and your nerves in for a few, long but oh so short seconds.. How could you? With that mask? You can’t see his face, but you can see there’s a lanky figure standing there, hiding under the mask and donning the monkey man mantle. He’s tall and slender but you can see there’s some muscle on his arms, from what you can see of the sweat and blood-stained undershirt he wears, his chest is toned as well.

You don’t know it yet, but you can feel something realign, change in this moment. You’re just not sure what it is, or if this feeling is even real, or if it’s just another symptom of somatic anxiety. Right now, you think it’s probably just that.

After almost another minute of the crowd booing Monkey Man and chanting out for the King Kobra, the match begins. Each of the men takes a moment to size the other one up, watching the other’s moves before the first hit lands. It’s King Kobra, he strikes Monkey Man.

King Kobra goes to throw another punch, he moves quickly and he’s very agile, yet Monkey Man somehow dodges this one. His landing with the dodge isn’t perfect, but it gets him out of the way. He throws a punch to King Kobra and the crowd erupts into boos at that. It’s even more louder and clearer than before who they’re all rooting for and aren’t. The crowd’s response seems to motivate King Kobra as he quickly moves and starts to deliver blow after blow.

You barely feel the noise of the crowd’s screams of joy and cheers as this happens and King Kobra gets his footing back. Your eyes widen as you watch, you see blood starting to fall as Monkey Man loses his way in this match.

You let out a gasp as he falls to the ground. King Kobra slithers around the ring, posing and feeding off of the crowd’s response before he goes in for the kill shot. He delivers it and you feel yourself slightly jump. It’s terrifying to you, you don’t see the appeal in this, you can only start to mentally list off all of the physical trauma this causes. You sigh as you watch King Kobra be declared the winner of this match, it sounds like a recurring event, you gaze over at your brother who looks ahead with a large smile of awe, obviously happy with whatever return he’s getting on the bets he’d made beforehand

Monkey Man slowly tries to limp his way out of the ring and backstage, you look at your brother and quickly whisper that you need to check on this man. You have to, it’s basically a moral and ethical obligation. Your brother sighs and nods, you quickly move off of the bench and it doesn’t take much for you to catch up to this masked man. “How are you feeling? I’m a nurse.” You say to him and he nods slowly, you can hear his ragged pants from under the mask, the mask is drenched in sweat along with the rest of his body.

As you slowly walk backstage with him to the locker room that’s pungent with the sweat of costumed men masquerading as animals and characters you’d find in The Ramayana. There’s blood stains visible throughout the floors and walls, and you can taste the copper of the crimson in the air, impossibly so. You don’t know how but you can. You ignore these other bodies floating in your periphery as you walk to a sink with the Monkey Man, he leads the way, naturally.

As you approach the sink together he immediately puts his hands on the edge and spits out a thick string of blood, you’re used to seeing blood but in this context, you can’t help but feel your nose screw up a little. It’s awful.

He tilts his head to look up at you, your eyes meet him and you offer him a small smile and give him your name. He looks at you, taking in the way that your lips curl up and how they do so genuinely. He gives a small nod, one you’d have missed if you’d blinked just a few seconds earlier. He just tells you that his nickname is Kid. Maybe he’s been fighting since he was very young. You don’t ask. Not yet.

You turn the faucet on at the sink, to try and wash his blood away so that you can start trying to clean the damage of tonight’s fight, off of him.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, he knows you’re not the type of person to come to these events. You’re not a regular and it’s clear from your face, you’re not a fan of these displays of violence.

“My brother. It’s his birthday this weekend.” You say quietly as you wipe the blood off. “Have you broken your nose?” He looks up at you with a small smile, it makes sense. Your brother was probably the man beside you, he thinks. Kid can’t quite remember his face. He then shrugs at your question. His nose doesn’t feel too bad right now, but he knows he’s probably broken it at some stage.

“You’re not sure?” You ask him, he shakes his head. You immediately notice how quiet he is, but despite his silence, his eyes are so reactive and expressive that you feel like you know more than what his words could give you.

“Do you have issues breathing? It doesn’t look bad, there’s just a small scar there. They often heal pretty well on their own.” You say as if to reassure him, even though you know that it probably isn’t something that would bother him. There wouldn’t be much he could do now anyway about that. You don’t like that thought.

Kid stays there perfectly still as your stomach is now over its nausea and your hand touches his skin so gently as you try to offer him some kindness, some respect, some dignity, some simple compassion and care. His eyes soften as he realises that and looks up at you. There’s a glow from within you, even in the artificial lighting of the locker room and it’s easy for him to block out the chaos in here and focus on your gentleness.

He’s barely ever touched, except for when a blow hits in a match, it’s never this gently. He doesn’t even know how to show himself that level of care when he bandages himself up at the end of each night that he fights.

There’s not much of a conversation as you bandage him up but somehow, you don’t really notice it and it’s completely okay with you. There’s a comfort in his quietness, his stillness. It’s one he finds in you as well, perfectly requited. You put a hand on his arm gently as you just finished putting a bandage on him. He takes your hand slowly, and he examines it. You’ve never had someone look at your hair, analysing every hair on your knuckles and by your wrist. It’s a unique way to be seen. He then takes your hand and gently turns it over, taking his time as he does. Kid looks at your palm, at all the lines on it and his eyes follow and travel amongst every single last one. A million lifetimes. A million dreams. He runs his finger along them, just to confirm as he thinks about the roots of your skin, how they run along to the softness and travel over calluses. “That’s your future.” He says softly as he looks at your hand, running his fingers along the lines. He then looks up at you, and his big, beautiful brown eyes meet your orbs. “It’s your past, everything.” You’re not sure what it is that he sees. You’d like to know but you also think you’d be content living without that and just his opinion on everything else in the world. But still, you want to see with his eyes.His fingers stop running over your palm and you feel your cheeks heat up at the intensity of this, his eyes have softened and there’s something else there. Something you don’t quite know. Is it longing? You’re not sure. You feel a deep, soul-aching longing, he does as well and always has. You just haven’t arrived at the stop yet for that to be communicated with words. Now all there is just looks, longing looks from a man with the most beautiful big, brown eyes in the world. You could melt in them, swim in them, drown in them. All of the above and you’d never complain.

You don’t know who makes the first move first, it just feels natural, like gravity. Some kind of natural force that slowly pulls your lips together that you both know is right. His hand gently cups your cheek as you feel his lips. They’re slightly chapped but you don’t mind. The kiss is soft and delicate and you like it. You need it and so does he. Everything feels so natural right now. Perhaps this is something he saw in the palm of your hand. You don’t know what it is yet, but you’re certain that this mask-wearing monkey man is part of that future he just talked about.

135 notes · View notes

firstelevens · 3 months

Text

my beloved @sesamestreep tagged me to do this and I was going to wait to stagger these tag game posts but I'm a profoundly impatient creature, so...that did not happen

If you're seeing this, consider yourself tagged, because this is a fun thing! But just to be specific I'll tag @sylvia-morris @bisamwilson @flapperwitch @bhavvyyy @apatheticjoy @hot2go

#zainab does ask meme things #also in case you want to blacklist for reblogs throughout the week I am tagging this:#why did you follow me poll

27 notes · View notes

15-lizards · 6 months

Note

do you have any faceclaims for the martell's?

(p.s. love your stuff and it has really inspired my world building for my own projects <3)

Aww thank u 🥺

Rahul Kohli as Doran no question. Hot Doran Rights. He is so good at playing a disappointed father like figure trying his best to keep relative stability, he’s got me sold on this. Give him a few grey streaks and bam. depression DILF.

And not to fancast Dev Patel *again* but I think he could play a really good Oberyn. He certainly looks like he could be cast in the role w/ his features and frame and whatnot, but he also is sooo charismatic I think he would smash a role like the red viper idk

Simone Ashley as Arianne let me cook…another incredible actor with the charisma and the range. She’s already done smart, witty, complex characters so she’s my top choice for my best girl my scheming princess

I’ve never seen any of Golshifteh Farahani’s work, but I’ve heard she’s great, and I simply think she just looks like she could be Ellaria Sand she is soooo gorgeous and just looks really close to what I read Ellaria as.

Obviously Rami Malek would be too old to play Quentyn, who’s 18, but younger Rami is kind of just too perfect to not mention. If there are any actors out there that look like young rami malek, please direct yourselves to the HBO casting call in my headcanon version of ASOIAF

#asoiaf #also give Dev Patel an Oscar for the green knight

42 notes · View notes

youngsamanda · 2 months

Text

not to be a silly goose but i have the itch to write and below are a bunch of things i'd love to write ! i am open to writing on tumblr or jcink but heavily prefer discord ! please be eighteen or over if you are giving this post a like or messaging me ! if you have any questions please let a girl know i love to yap about headcanons , characters , and swap pinterest boards i will be annoying abt it ! but yea give this a like or dm me if interested !

plots : slasher multimuse / messy 2000s socialites / yellowjackets style where we play older and younger versions of plane crash survivors / mermaid x pirate romance / not actually the characters but the vibes of red white and royal blue gay royals and all that / just want random period pieces like characters in the 70s or something / rich girl x country boy / proper enemies to lovers / the bitches from the mummy / mob lackey and mob boss daughter / something based on beth x rip from yellowstone / literally just a drama college friend group bc it’s fun / gimme real old gay vampires that are just messy and awful for each other but keep falling back together / literally on my knees begging for any kind of beauty and the beast plot / gay cowboys / next gen marvel or dc / scooby doo style friend group and ships / 70s rockers / literally anything where we can cast older and younger versions and do next gen stuff eventually bc that's so fun / co-stars on a fantasy television show

wanted opposite : nick robinson / archie renaux / emilio sakraya / jena malone / ryan graves / adrian kempe / sza / lily gladstone / yahya abdul mateen ii / alperen duymaz / drew starkey / fka twigs / aubrey plaza / peter gadiot / renee rapp / paul mescal / havana liu rose / milo manheim / taylor zakhar perez / riley keogh / anna diop / melissa barrera / ben barnes / ayo edibiri / fabien frankel / dev patel / oliver jackson cohen / danny ramirez / aubin wise / cillian murphy / amber midthunder / daniel sharman / auli'l cravalho / logan lerman / phoebe tonkin / rege jean page / winona ryder / dua lipa / elodie yung / joseph quinn / simone ashley / camila mendes / jensen ackles / henry golding / blu hunt / aaron taylor johnson / calum hood / gabriel luna / savannah lee smith / may calamawy / ruby cruz / chay suede / brady skjei / zazie beetz / donald glover / emilio sakraya / evan peters / lola tung / anyone really

ships : wanda x vision (recasting required) / (recasted prefered) sam x bucky / bucky x steve / natasha x bucky / gale x dewey / buffy x spike / buffy x angel / keyleth x vax / older annabeth x percy / anakin x padme / tom blythe x rachel zegler / mason gooding x jenna ortega / peter x gwen but not tom holland peter / bloom x sky from winx club / danielle galligan x calahan skogman / nesta x cassian / taylor zakhar perez x madelyn cline / mickey x ian from shameless but recasted / rhaenyra x harwin / taylor zakhar perez x amita suman / haley x nathan from oth / haymitch x effie from the hunger games / anna diop x brenton thwaites / lydia x stiles (recasted) / scott x allison (recasted) / older sean x emma from degrassi (recasted) / rosalie x emmett from twilight (recasted) / odessa a'zion x drew starkey / courtney eaton x sophie thatcher / lorna dane x marcos diaz (lorna recasted) / kaz x inej / nina x mattias / jason todd x rose wilson (not titans tv version) / clark kent x lois lane / hal jordan x barry allen / klaus x caroline (recasted caroline at least) / hayley x klaus / mackenzie davis x gugu mbatha-raw

#1x1 rp #discord rp #discord 1x1 #1x1 roleplay #discord roleplay #plots

13 notes · View notes

moonchild-in-blue · 1 month

Note

Please do tell me your whore thoughts about Dev Patel 👀👀👀

*ahem* 👁️🫦👁️

Honey. Dev Patel is SO. SO. FINE. I wanna gaze into his dark orbs all day and cuddle up against his scrumptioulicious warm chest. I need to take a bite of his arms and legs, and I wanna hear him whimper all pretty and nice.

I wanna take a small brush and gently run it trough his beard and hair while his face is real close to mine. If I could, I would spent my life having him read all of my favourite books with that slutty British voice of his.

I would gladly and willingly die by his hands if that meant I would be put into a chokehold on those beautiful firm arms of his. I need to bite his face and neck and jaw like NOW. I bet he smells like cinnamon bark and old books and sunshine. Wanna tug at his beautiful dark hair while [REACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [OH LORD] [OH GREAT HEAVENS]. Respectfully Mister Patel, I am but a hole :)

#sorry but also. hm.#the ideal man #him in Modern Love has changed my chemistry forever. not even gonna mention Green Knight #also the ✨desi rep and validation✨ really get to me #darya is once again being weird about british men oof #darya answers

11 notes · View notes

two-hands-toward-the-sun · 2 months

Text

if anyone sees a gif of dev patel’s character biting a chunk out of the other guy’s face PLEASE tag me i need it for research (convincing my director i should be allowed to do the same in a fight scene)

also the knife-in-the-throat moment, you know the one

#monkey man 2024 #monkey man

19 notes · View notes

andordean · 4 months

Text

Embarrassing Personal Ask Game

@tigerlyla-of-metinna has a tag game going (sorry friend for not doing the other games you tagged me in, I literally played three videogames in the last decade 🙈😂) about embarrassing crushes, only I personally don't think any of mine are embarrassing. They're all quality. Anyway.

"We are going to talk about obsessions CRUSHES! Name 3 (celebrity crush, fictional/ cartoon/ videogame crush, and your current crush (may be real or not). And please give a brief (or lengthy) explanation or backstory."

Celebrity crush:

The one and only Pedro Pascal. The most adorable Muppet, by all accounts a wholesome human being, I want to see him slay in everything he touches and live his best life. Obsessed with him ever since Oberyn Martell sluttily sauntered through the room. (The Curse of the Beard, exhibit A.)

Videogame crush:

Surprise surprise: Ciri in TW3. The chokehold she's had on me since 2015 has loosened a bit (sniffle), but hasn't disappeared.

Disliked her in the books, her game version rewired my brain. If said brain, inspiration and energy allows, will write her snogging hot people of the continent till she lets go of me fully (hope it never happens).

Current crush:

Someone said in thirsty tags that once Asian men embrace beards it's over for the white guys, and between the recent examples of Dev Patel and Justin Chien, that person cannot be more right.

What can I say. The Curse of the Beard, exhibit B. Presenting: Justin Chien in "The Brothers Sun":

Honourable mentions: the prickly baby, the golden retriever wife, and the Curse of the Beard, exhibit C.

Tagging (no pressure, this is me waving hi): @jikanet-tanaka @starlight-and-thunder @kuwdora @keyrousse @poetikat @witch-and-her-witcher @nibi-nix @nikita-not-nikola @just-a-dot @justanotherdmdammit @lemurianstarship @otemporaetmores @alynnl

11 notes · View notes

ocie-vt · 3 months

Text

Thoughts on ARCADEA / AWOL

Quite a while ago now I played the ARCADEA demo on stream with my good friend Purea Patel… I'm only writing this review(?) so much later because Ive just uploaded the VoD.

To get things started, ARCADEA Is an upcoming RPGmaker game in which you take control of Maisie, a mute girl on a quest to find her brother Jas. To do this, we must go through the world of Arcadia. It should be noted that Arcadia here does not refer to the Greek province, but instead refers to one of the interesting phenomena that can be found here: you see, In everyone's dreams lies an Arcade machine which represents their innermost psyche or something. It seems that we can go into these arcade machines for… reasons. Something to do with a cat? Here's the problem with writing a review of sorts from memory months after I've played something, A lot of the exactitudes of the game story have become hazy in my mind. For instance, I remember there was a talking cat who acted slightly sinisterly and seemed to be important somehow… The only other thing I remember about him is that we made him Australian for some reason. A lot of my recollection is like this, so from now on ill just mention the stuff that's stuck with me the most about the game.

Firstly, I must mention the art here, especially the character portraits. It's very good, I feel like all the main characters have very distinct designs, they're all vaguely colour coded in these nice lighter colours which both makes every character easy to tell apart which also giving them a nice sense of cohesion. It's all very cute, and this carries over to the level art, which also has pleasing pallets whilst keeping a good sense of variety between zones. Secondly, I must mention the minigames: they are of paramount importance in a game literally structured around arcade machines, and they most certainly do not disappoint. Even this demo has quite a few varied little gameplay segments, and it honestly does better in them than even some other extremely well produced or popular RPGmaker games like Pocket mirror, which relies a bit too heavily on variations of the chase sequence. Of course ARCADEA isn't exempt from having one or two chasers, close to the end there's a chase sequence against a paintbrush monster thing… but at least there is a mechanic there where you can leave bait for the monster to stall it a little. The other games are a bit more interesting though, for instance there is a puzzle in which you have to stand on a certain spot and then line up a piece of paper to reveal a symbol that tells you what direction to go next. It's a bit like that one forest sequence from Metal Gear, except in Metal Gear, the devs just left you to flounder until you got out. There's also one or two quick time button presses that I was very bad at… but it's also an interesting change of pace from other games I've played.

Last thing I'd want to mention here is that in one scene you are put in a greenhouse and told to draw one of a few plants highlighted in the room, except there was also a random set of vines highlighted that had nothing to do with this, and I was very disappointed when I couldn't try to select the random set of vines over all the pretty flowers to draw.

Anyway, all in all I had a very good time playing ARCADEA, and I'm excited for the full release. I would highly suggest that you play the game for yourself, you can download it here.

After we finished that demo on stream, me and Purea still had a fair amount of energy left, so we decided to look at the other game that the ARCADEA dev has worked on, A Wave Of Lights (AWOL). It's a cute little visual novel about a shut in girl meeting an alien girl and then, like, being gay for two hours. I've not much to say on the actual game itself since it's relatively short, It's just well written and the art is also cute. I will say that, uhh, I made some choices on the stream's end that might have impacted the drama of it a tad… When we played it we decided to voice one character each and whilst Purea gave a pretty neutrally toned voice to the main character, I heard that the other character was an alien and like… I can only decide the voice I went with as somewhere between Skeletor and a Dalek, because alien. It was really something going into the more dramatic or serious scenes with the characters opening up to each other and whatnot, where Purea was playing it 100% straight, and I was doing the silliest goddamed voice I have ever attempted.

to close this out, I should say that the Dev for Arcadia is named Aishin, and you can find them here on tumblr @arcadea-rpg.

Whilst Aishin was the artist for AWOL, it seems that the writer and lead dev listed was Tabby Wright, who you can find here.

AWOL itself can be downloaded from here, and finally you can find the VoD for my stream here.

#ARCADIA #A wave of lights #rpg maker #vtuber

6 notes · View notes

strangerhands · 2 months

Text

eeee finally left my house (yesterday because its now past midnight) and saw monkey man finally and rewatched dune two and aaaaaa so good. both so good. monkey man was just. 🤌 chefs fucking kiss. 🤌 dev patel...<3 sobhita dhulipala...<3 i need them... pls... theyre so. oh my god. bowing down and praying to and worshipping them for real. anyways. i really enjoyed it a lot. i love that they werent afraid to get brutal and bloody like fuck yessss give me that gore baby. and dune 1+2 are still just so fucking good. i actually meant to rewatch dune 1 before it but i forgot. but whatever. i cant wait until the third oneeee. anyways yea i just wanted to yap a bit bc my friends really dont care that much and it has been making me very sad the past few days but it is what it is ya know. but i hope you all have been doing beautifully and better than me lol. and i hope to like finally get caught up on here soon. like actually soon. hopefully. pls. if god wills it. please. ok bye<3

#just me #talkin shit #as i do #very much recommend watching monkey man though it was great #dev patel you ate that up #i know there was criticism about the shaky cam but it was actually done on purpose to show the main characters skill and state #& it gets more stable as the film goes on & as he gets stronger & better & more confident in himself+his skills+journey+the people around #him #its just to show his growth and stuff like that yk #i hate the 140 character limit😑😑😑😑#anyways idk why i just feel the need to infodump like i do. sorry #k bye thank you mwah #time to rb monkey man gif sets😋🤭😝🥰

5 notes · View notes

chaithetics · 29 days

Text

Fics for Palestine! 🖤❤️🤍💚

Hey, beautiful Tumblr besties!

Do you want a fic and to support a good cause? A super specific fic? Want to ensure you are fed those Monkey Man fics you're needing? Or have you sent me a request and want me to hurry up and write it (Sorry I do take my time with writing)? THEN READ

I will write and prioritise requests from you and have them posted on Tumblr NO LATER THAN MAY 31ST!!!!

All you need to do is send same day confirmation to me either in the ask box or as a message of donating to a fund or organisation on the Operation Olive Branch list! This could be a family's Go Fund Me page for evacuating Palestine, the UNRWA fund, or eSims for Gaza etc.

This is the Operation Olive Branch's linktree page

I don't know what the response will be to this, if miraculously so many people were interested that I was too overwhelmed I would come up with a new date or close temporarily and 'reopen' for June. We'll see how this does, but I will be regularly updating this!

I will write for the following characters:

Any Pedro Pascal characters

Any Oscar Isaac characters

Any Dev Patel characters

Any Fallout characters

Any Succession characters (not Old Guard or Greg lol but even Tom!)

Tommy Miller (TLOU)

Any The Bear characters

Marvel characters like Matt Murdock, Wanda, Bucky etc.

And more I just can't think of, you're more than welcome to ask about a certain character in comments, DMs or in my inbox before donating as well 🫶

What I will write:

I'll write fluff, angst, smut, or any combination! I will write plus size readers, poc readers, disabled readers etc. I will write female readers, and gender-neutral readers, I'm bi/queer so am happy to write wlw fics if you desire Shiv or some Wanda with an f reader or more straight ones- whatever you want! Requests can be as vague or as specific as you want!

If you want Kendall and Stewy's conversation the night before his wedding to Rava with some angst, you got it! If you wanted to request a plus-size reader to go on a bookstore date with a contemporary Ezra, you got it! It's pretty open to your dreams!

I won't write fics that are nonconsensual, 'dark', heavy kink, gore, vore, paedophilia, and nothing with under-18 readers or characters (this includes characters 'aged up' for a fic).

My masterlist is here for navigation and if you aren't familiar with my work but want to get an idea!!! Chaithetics Masterlist

Moving on.....

If you donate 5 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 500 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 10 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whatever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 1,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

If you donate 50 USD, CAD, GBP, EURO whichever currency that fund is in:

I will write a fic with your request that is at least 4,000 words long and is posted no later than May 31st.

Why is this important?

We need to help out and do our part to not be complicit in Israel's genocide against the Palestinian people. Palestinians are begging for our attention and aid, since October 7th 2023, Israel has murdered over 35,000 Palestinians, displacing the survivors so many and committing numerous war crimes. Israel's expulsion, ethnic cleansing and war crimes have been terrorising the Palestinian people and land since 1948. We all have a part to play, so get involved with this if you like, please contact your local representatives and government, keep engaging with Palestinian content and voices, support the funds if you can- I know that's not accessible to everyone, attend rallies, protests, and vigils in support of Palestine. Do what you can, what is physically, emotionally and financially accessible to you.

I'd love it if you could share this as well, especially for my mutuals and others in these fandoms with much bigger platforms (I have a humble 300 followers, that I adore) and also for other writers to consider doing something like this! Thank you for reading this far, let's stay empathetic and support each other in these trying times 🖤❤️🤍💚

128 notes · View notes