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Que s'est-il passé dans ce film ?

J'ai un résumé pour vous. Après avoir été laissé par Jules à la gare et faire une rechute, Rue fête Noël.

Tout sur les films La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film se déroule quatre ans La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film Train to B La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film et alors que les personnages se battent pour échapper à la terre en ruines à cause d'une catastrophe sans précédent .

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La qualité est assez bonne car La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film e il n'est pas ré-encodé. Les flux vidéo (H.264 ou H.265) et audio (AC3 / La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film ) sont généralement extraits d'iTunes ou d'Amazon Video, puis réinstallés dans un conteneur MKV sans sacrifier la qualité. Télécharger Euphoria Movie Season 1 Movie 6 L'un des films en streaming. La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film Miles Morales évoque sa vie entre être un collégien et devenir La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film.

Cependant, lorsque Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film est un super collisionneur, un autre État captif d'une autre dimension, Peter Parker, s'est accidentellement retrouvé dans la dimension Miles.

Qd Peter a entraîné les Miles à s'améliorer,

“ La Pat' Patrouille : La Super Patrouille Le Film ” de Warner Bros a fait ses débuts au box-office britannique et irlandais avec un coup de grâce de 5 millions de livres sterling (5,9 millions de dollars), selon les chiffres de Comscore.

Au cours de son troisième week-end, “ Ant-Man And The Wasp: Quantumania ” de Disney est descendu d'une place à la deuxième place avec 1,4 million de livres sterling pour un total de 17,2 millions de livres sterling.

“ Le Chat Potté : Le Dernier Vœu ” d'Universal a collecté 1,1 million de livres sterling lors de son cinquième week-end en troisième position pour un total de 22,1 millions de livres sterling. À la quatrième place, un autre titre Universal, “ Cocaine Bear ”, a sniffé 1,09 million de livres sterling lors de son deuxième week-end pour un total de 3,6 millions de livres sterling.Pour compléter le top cinq, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” de Studiocanal a séduit 845 838 £ lors de son deuxième week-end pour un total de 2,7 millions de £.

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[voirsawxvffrancais]

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123MOVIES|Primemovi ou 123MOVIES|Primemovihub était un système de sites de streaming de fichiers travaillant depuis le Vietnam, qui permettait aux clients de Regardez des films gratuitement. Le réseau 123MOVIES|Primemovi est toujours actif via des sites clones. 123MOVIES|Primemovi est une bonne alternative pour Saw X (2023) Film en ligne Saw X rs, il fournit les meilleurs et les derniers films en ligne, séries télévisées, épisodes et anime, etc. Il dispose d'une bonne équipe de support nous pouvons demander et demander de télécharger vos derniers films, émissions de télévision, etc. souhaités. Ici, nous pouvons donner une note à Saw X en train de Regardez le film. Le streaming en ligne est excellent pour Regardez des films gratuitement en ligne. 123MOVIES|Primemovi a d'excellents onglets de filtrage sur la page d'accueil, nous pouvons sélectionner et Regardez les films en vedette, les plus regardés, les plus préférés, les meilleurs, les meilleurs IMDb en ligne. Ici, nous pouvons télécharger et Regardez des films 123MOVIES|Primemovi hors ligne. Les sites Web 123MOVIES|Primemovi sont la meilleure alternative à Saw X (2023) en ligne gratuit. nous recommanderons 123MOVIES|Primemovi est la meilleure alternative Solarmovie. 123MOVIES|Primemovi a divisé judicieusement son contenu multimédia en films, séries télévisées, en vedette, épisodes, genre, Top IMDB, Demandé et Sortie.

Que s'est-il passé dans ce film ?

J'ai un résumé pour vous. Après avoir été laissé par Jules à la gare et faire une rechute, Rue fête Noël.

Tout sur les films Saw X se déroule quatre ans Saw X Train to B Saw X et alors que les personnages se battent pour échapper à la terre en ruines à cause d'une catastrophe sans précédent .

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Combien de temps as-tu dormi pendant le film Saw X ? Le m Saw X ic, l'histoire et le message sont phénoménaux dans Saw X . Je n'ai jamais pu Regardez un autre film cinq fois comme je l'ai fait. Revenez et Regardez pour la deuxième fois et faites attention. Saw X Films WEB-DL Cela perd des fichiers moins boiteux du streaming Saw X, comme Netflix, Amazon Video.

Hulu, Crunchy roll, DiscoveryGO, BBC iPlayer, etc. Il s'agit également de films ou d'émissions télévisées téléchargés via des sites de distribution en ligne, tels qu'iTunes.

La qualité est assez bonne car Saw X e il n'est pas ré-encodé. Les flux vidéo (H.264 ou H.265) et audio (AC3 / Saw X ) sont généralement extraits d'iTunes ou d'Amazon Video, puis réinstallés dans un conteneur MKV sans sacrifier la qualité. Télécharger Euphoria Movie Season 1 Movie 6 L'un des films en streaming. Saw X Miles Morales évoque sa vie entre être un collégien et devenir Saw X.

Cependant, lorsque Wilson “Kingpin” Fisk Saw X est un super collisionneur, un autre État captif d'une autre dimension, Peter Parker, s'est accidentellement retrouvé dans la dimension Miles.

Qd Peter a entraîné les Miles à s'améliorer,

“ Saw X ” de Warner Bros a fait ses débuts au box-office britannique et irlandais avec un coup de grâce de 5 millions de livres sterling (5,9 millions de dollars), selon les chiffres de Comscore.

Au cours de son troisième week-end, “ Ant-Man And The Wasp: Quantumania ” de Disney est descendu d'une place à la deuxième place avec 1,4 million de livres sterling pour un total de 17,2 millions de livres sterling.

“ Le Chat Potté : Le Dernier Vœu ” d'Universal a collecté 1,1 million de livres sterling lors de son cinquième week-end en troisième position pour un total de 22,1 millions de livres sterling. À la quatrième place, un autre titre Universal, “ Cocaine Bear ”, a sniffé 1,09 million de livres sterling lors de son deuxième week-end pour un total de 3,6 millions de livres sterling.Pour compléter le top cinq, “What’s Love Got to Do with It?” de Studiocanal a séduit 845 838 £ lors de son deuxième week-end pour un total de 2,7 millions de £.

«Saw X» de Sony a fait ses débuts à la sixième place avec 567 638 £ et l'autre début du week-end était «Heaven in Hell» de Magnetes, qui s'est incliné en 10e position avec 146 318 £.

“Close” de MUBI a fait ses débuts à la 11e place avec 128 501 £. “Aftersun” de MUBI est toujours aussi fort, avec une collection du week-end de 21 011 £, enregistrant une baisse de seulement 2% avant la semaine des Oscars. Il a 1,7 million de livres sterling à ce jour.

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[barbieenvfstreamingcomplet]

Regardez Margot Robbie et Ryan Gosling dans le rôle de Barbie Film complet en HD en ligne ou regardez les meilleures vidéos HD 1080p gratuites sur ordinateur de bureau, ordinateur portable, ordinateur portable, tablette, iPhone, iPad, Mac Pro et autres appareils. Barbie Film complet HD. Barbie streaming complet hd, Barbie voir film streaming Barbie streaming en vf hd.

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Pour rêver en grand. La nouvelle Maison de Rêve de Barbie comprend 10 zones de jeu, plus de 75 éléments pour imaginer des histoires et une piscine équipée du plus grand toboggan jamais proposé. Acheter maintenant. Barbie est un film réalisé par Greta Gerwig avec Margot Robbie, Ryan Gosling. Synopsis : A Barbie Land, vous êtes un être parfait dans un monde parfait. Sauf si vous êtes en crise … Synopsis général. Barbie streaming vf hd en ligne... Parallèlement au monde réel, il existe Barbieland, un monde parfait où les poupées Barbie vivent joyeusement, persuadées d’avoir rendu les filles humaines heureuses. Mais un jour, une Barbie commence à se poser des questions et à devenir humaine. Barbie streaming dvdrip french. Barbie n'est pas disponible en streaming. Laissez-nous vous avertir quand vous pourrez le regarder. M'avertir Signaler une offre manquante ou incorrecte Résumé … Welcome to the official Barbie YouTube Channel where you and your little one can check out the newest content, products, movies and more! About Barbie: For over 62 years, Barbie has led girls on a… Logo de la franchise de 1959 à 1975, réutilisé depuis 2009. Blonds, bruns, roux… Barbie film streaming complet. Barbie. Comédie 1h54 15,4K ont aimé. Sortie : 19 juil. 2023. De Greta Gerwig avec Margot Robbie, Emma Mackey, Ryan Gosling

Bleus, verts, noirs, violets… Barbie est une poupée mannequin de 29 cm commercialisée depuis 1959 par Mattel, une société américaine de jouets et de jeux. Choisissez votre thème préféré ou complétez votre collection de poupées Barbie avec les derniers modèles ! Si vous possédez déjà quelques jouets de la marque, vous pouvez aussi jeter un œil au poupées Disney , et au figurines princesses. Chaque enfant trouve dans l’univers Barbie un jouet qui lui convient et qui lui permet de se divertir : Barbie astronaute, Barbie infirmière, mais aussi Barbie fée ou Barbie fashionistas. Des millions de poupées ont été vendues en France et dans le monde entier.

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19 juillet 2023 en salle / 3h 01min /Biopic, Historique, Thriller

De Christopher Nolan

Par Christopher Nolan

Avec Cillian Murphy, Emily Blunt, Matt Damon

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Introduction: Oppenheimer est un film de 2023 réalisé par le célèbre cinéaste Christopher Nolan, qui explore la vie et les contributions du physicien américain J. Robert Oppenheimer. Ce biopic captivant nous plonge dans le parcours complexe et troublant de l'homme qui a dirigé le projet Manhattan, qui a abouti à la création de la première bombe atomique pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale. Oppenheimer est une plongée profonde dans les questions morales, éthiques et existentielles qui ont entouré le développement de cette arme puissante et destructrice.

Synopsis: Le film Oppenheimer retrace la vie d'Oppenheimer depuis ses premiers jours en tant qu'étudiant brillant en physique à l'Université de Harvard jusqu'à son rôle central dans le projet Manhattan. L'histoire se concentre non seulement sur les réalisations scientifiques d'Oppenheimer, mais également sur son cheminement personnel et sa prise de conscience des conséquences dévastatrices de ses découvertes.

Le récit se déroule dans les années tumultueuses de la Seconde Guerre mondiale et explore la dynamique complexe entre les scientifiques impliqués dans le projet Manhattan, le gouvernement américain et les tensions internationales de l'époque. Oppenheimer est présenté comme un personnage tourmenté, hanté par les dilemmes moraux et les implications de la création d'une arme aussi puissante.

Thèmes abordés: Oppenheimer soulève de nombreuses questions éthiques et morales autour de la science et de la technologie. Le film examine la responsabilité des scientifiques dans l'utilisation de leurs découvertes, ainsi que les dilemmes auxquels ils sont confrontés lorsqu'ils sont confrontés à des choix qui pourraient avoir des conséquences catastrophiques. Il aborde également des questions existentielles, telles que la relation entre la création et la destruction, et les impacts psychologiques sur les individus impliqués dans le développement de la bombe atomique.

Casting et performances: Oppenheimer bénéficie d'un casting exceptionnel, avec un ensemble d'acteurs talentueux qui donnent vie aux personnages clés de l'histoire. Le rôle principal de J. Robert Oppenheimer est interprété par l'acteur britannique Tom Hardy, qui livre une performance captivante et émouvante en incarnant le scientifique tourmenté. Le reste du casting comprend des acteurs renommés tels que Cate Blanchett, qui joue le rôle de la physicienne Lise Meitner, et Michael Fassbender, qui incarne le physicien allemand Werner Heisenberg.

Réception critique et attentes: Oppenheimer a été l'un des films les plus attendus de l'année 2023, en raison de la combinaison du réalisateur Christopher Nolan avec un sujet historique et scientifique aussi fascinant. Les premières projections et les premières critiques ont été extrêmement positives, saluant à la fois la réalisation visuelle de Nolan et les performances puissantes du casting. Les attentes sont élevées, avec des anticipations d'une nomination potentielle aux Oscars dans plusieurs catégories, dont le meilleur film, la meilleure réalisation et les meilleures performances.

Conclusion: Oppenheimer est un film captivant qui explore la vie complexe de J. Robert Oppenheimer, le père de la bombe atomique. Christopher Nolan réussit à combiner l'histoire, la science, l'éthique et la philosophie dans un récit émouvant et profond. Le film soulève des questions fondamentales sur la responsabilité des scientifiques et les conséquences de leurs découvertes. Oppenheimer est à la fois un hommage aux réalisations scientifiques d'Oppenheimer et une réflexion sur les choix et les dilemmes auxquels sont confrontés ceux qui sont aux avant-postes de la recherche et de la découverte.

[iwannadancewithsomebodyvf]

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Biopic sur Whitney Houston. L'intrigue suit la montée en puissance de Houston et son ascension vers la légende de la pop.

C'est le compromis décevant avec ce genre de biopic de célébrités. Vous pouvez avoir certains des sujets les plus fascinants à explorer avec votre histoire, mais vous ne pouvez jamais risquer une profondeur réelle qui pourrait être peu flatteuse, préjudiciable ou, à Dieu ne plaise, réelle. Les vedettes sont les héros, victimes de circonstances où dans n'importe quelle autre histoire, une personne de leur trajectoire exigerait un traitement plus riche, un plus grand questionnement et une réflexion appropriée sur des sujets aussi philosophiquement chargés que l'atteinte à la vie privée, la violence parentale et conjugale, la toxicomanie. et la sexualité fermée.

La vie de Whitney était pleine de complexités, mais les obligations contractuelles et l'œil vigilant de sa famille et de ses amis en tant que producteurs du film signifiaient un autre produit final sans enthousiasme qui améliore son talent – ​​comme il se doit – mais minimise son être humain derrière, tout comme le public a fait toute sa vie. Des problèmes comme la fausse couche de Whitney, la trahison de son père, le comportement abusif de Bobby Brown et sa rupture forcée avec Robyn sont terminés et traités dès qu'ils ont commencé.

Le réalisateur Kasi Lemmons et l'écrivain biopic chevronné Anthony McCarten auraient pu faire tellement de choses étant donné qu'ils ont dû entasser des décennies entières de la vie du chanteur en un peu plus de deux heures d'exécution. Cependant, il y a quelques aspects inspirés. Il y a une transformation subtile de la personnalité de Whitney, d'une jeune femme enthousiaste et chérubine, mais astucieuse et rusée dont l'innocence et l'immaturité la rendent d'autant plus aimable, à une erratique, mais autosuffisante, et néanmoins tout aussi rusée et astucieuse. , femme d'affaires. Sa croissance est peut-être l'élément général le plus intéressant de I Wanna Dance With Somebody, présent dans le sublime micro-acteur de Naomi Ackie. L'actrice change lentement tout son comportement, de la façon dont ses grands yeux transmettent l'excitation au début et la peur à la fin, à la façon dont son sourire passe d'authentique et accueillant à aigre et amer. Ackie fait un très bon travail en modifiant la couleur et la hauteur de sa voix pour correspondre également à l'évolution réelle de Whitney.

À son tour, le scénario soutient ce voyage avec des commentaires occasionnels mais constants sur le désir d'authenticité de Whitney et le fardeau d'avoir à faire semblant d'être quelqu'un qu'elle n'est pas. Ceci est principalement associé à son apparence, car ceux qui l'entourent lui disent de changer de cheveux, de porter des vêtements et de marcher différemment, mais pour le spectateur attentif, il existe une tension sous-jacente avec le genre et la sexualité qui sépare cruellement son personnage vedette de son identité principale. . . Sa relation avec la religion, sa compagnie de toute une vie avec Robyn et son désir d'avoir une famille modèle qui réparera les dommages que le mariage de ses parents lui a causés sont tous présents dans le film, l'empêchant de devenir encore plus vide, mais, encore une fois, vous' re tout simplement pas assez de doublure.

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[brw]

Asking for a Re-Animator re-make without the misogyny is like. a little ridiculous to be frank. The misogyny is the point. Herbert and Dan's relationship is the way it is because they are both very misogynistic people (albeit in very different ways). Because they are, objectively speaking, two white men in the 80s in a slasher(adjacent) horror film. Of course they're misogynists.

The whole narrative surrounding Meg, the grander reason why she dies, is due to misogyny. Not a single man in that film sees Meg as a whole person. Not a single man cares truly about her, her thoughts and her feelings and her decisions. She is dismissed by Dan, she is dismissed by her father, and obviously Herbert and Hill couldn't give a fuck what she thinks or feels. She dies because never once was she anything other than an object to the men around her, never once was she afforded agency and that isn't a mistake, that is a narrative theme in the movie. She is objectified time and time again. There is more than one scene where she tells Dan no, that she doesn't like something, and he continues it anyway. When she rejects his attempts at sexual intimacy, his response is to act annoyed, or huffy. And you can say these scenes are meant to be playful... but when she is raped later on, the seeds of this idea that her consent does not matter to the men around her, regardless of her relationship with them is sown. She never asked for anything that happens to her in the film, but because what she wants isn't held in high regard by any of the men around her, it happens anyway, and that's the tragedy of Meg's character.

I'm not gonna sit here and say that the gratuitous shots of her being sexually assaulted are good, or necessary... but Re-Animator is a mid-80s gory horror flick. Part of why Re-Animator has endured so much as a film is because of its presence as a cult classic in horror comedy. And misogyny was part and parcel of that era and of those movies. I know Tumblr has latched onto Re-Animator because of the queerness of the two main leads and the strength of it's styling and cinematic sense, but to remove the misogyny from Re-Animator is to deny what Re-Animator captured, and to deny why the narrative goes the way it goes, and frankly to deny it's queerness. You can't separate Re-Animator's queerness from its misogyny. Herbert West comes across as gay because his contempt towards Meg is that extreme. Dan comes across as infatuated with Herbert because he repeatedly chooses Herbert's experiments over her. And ultimately I think it is far more useful to try and have meaningful discussions about the period-typical misogyny in the film, rather than hope for a version that has all those nasty bits removed.

[hollybell51]

If I don't have you

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Ethan Hunt x AFAB!Reader

Mission Impossible (around MI3)

Word count: 6.6K

Summary: your mind won't let go of a close call, or all the things that remain unsaid between you and Ethan.

Content: gratuitous smut, angst, light blood/wounds (canon typical), swearing, angst with a happy ending, some mildly dubious moments (ie., sneaking into people's beds), but there's explicit consent so dw about that. Friends to lovers, first kisses (like between people), oral (f receiving), handjobs, making out, missionary, unprotected sex, bit of dirty talk, sappy love confessions (I'm a sap myself, give me a break). I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Notes: hey guys I'm back with another terrible title and porn nobody asked for! I've recently been consumed by Mission Impossible and was devastated by the lack of Ethan Hunt content, and I may or may not be starting down the Tom Cruise rabbit hole, so I did the natural thing and wrote some good old smut. This man makes me absolutely feral in every film (sixty fucking one and he's still got it! What the fuck!) but the long hair really gets me (you all know this already) so I chose to go with somewhere around the MI3 mark. I'm also somehow convinced that he just gets hotter with each film but that's another issue.

Mandatory disclaimer, I don't really care what Tom Cruise does in his own free time with his money and energy but I personally don't fuck with scientology, so yeah. Anyways, enjoy!

The door to the hotel room banged shut behind you, loud and sudden in the cool stillness of the evening. Your face felt hot, and not just because of the heat outside or the fact that you’d just effectively undertaken a high-speed parkour course, blood rushing in your ears, heart pounding. 

“What the hell, Ethan?” you hissed as you spun to face him, jerking your arm out of his grip. 

He ignored you, stepping closer in the narrow entryway. “Are you hurt?” 

Were you hurt? God, it never failed to amaze you just how little regard this man had for his own safety. First he’d quite literally jumped off the roof of a building (albeit a low building, and he’d slid down the tented roof of one of the market stalls first), then raced head-first into what had nearly ended up an all-out fire fight, despite you and Luther both yelling across the comms at him to stop, go around and cut them off! Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t listened. 

“That was fucking insane!” you burst. 

“Are you ok?” 

You were being pursued, first at a walk and then a run. Ethan had seen, you’d told him and Luther both over the comms, and had been receiving directions from the latter. But there were three men chasing you – working for the man you were stalking, most likely, although you weren’t sure – and the streets were unfamiliar, the heat of the evening oppressive, the crush of bodies at the market stifling and the air dusty and thick. You knew, even as your feet pounded on the uneven ground, that you were not going to outlast these men – locals, larger and more numerous than you. 

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” 

Ethan had barrelled into you from the side just as the first gunshot had gone off, rolling with a grunt and a curse over some poor stallholder’s display and behind a wall of crates. The rush of relief his presence unfailingly conjured was short-lived as he dragged you to your feet, a quick “alright?” and that goddamn movie-star grin before he was pushing you out from behind the makeshift shelter and back into the crowd. You hadn’t even noticed the substantial tear in his shirt or the rough hatching of a graze high on his cheek until you’d been leaning against a wall, panting and a little shaky, but alive and free of your pursuers. 

You’d almost ripped him a (another) new one then and there, but then he’d shaken his head at you and held up his hand, panting, “let’s just get back,” before you could even open your mouth. So you’d held your tongue. Until you’d gotten back. 

Now, both his hands were on your shoulders, firm and warm, holding you still. “(Y/N),” he was saying, his eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt?” 

“No,” you sighed after a moment, half tempted to jerk out of his grasp again. You didn’t. “I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He nodded, his hands sliding down to grip your arms. The graze wasn’t too bad up close, but as your eyes flicked to the cut on his arm, your anger reared its head again. God, if that had been twenty centimetres to the right…

“No you’re fuckin not,” you said, breathing deeply. It was late, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone more than you already had. “Let me see that.” 

His hands dropped from you altogether, and he stepped back. “It’s fine, (Y/N), just a graze.” 

“A bullet graze!” 

“It’s fine.” 

You shook your head, closing what little distance had opened up between you to point your finger into his chest. “Don’t ever pull shit like that again.” 

“No promises,” he shrugged.

Jesus fucking Christ! You had half a mind to grab his gun off him and finish the job right there, see how fine he’d be with his brains blown onto the wall behind him. Even then he’d brush it off as a bruise, maybe a light concussion. You swallowed. “Ethan, you could have been killed !” 

“But I wasn’t. All that matters is that you’re alright.” He’d taken your hand, folding your accusing finger back towards your palm gently – so gently it made your heart ache – and enclosing your fist in his much larger one. Your stupid, traitorous stomach did a flip to rival his acrobatics. 

“No,” you gritted, “that’s not all that matters! You fucking–” matter. You matter to me. You pressed your lips firmly together, the words boiling in the back of your throat, spiralling into a hard, painful lump. You matter, Ethan, more than any fucking mission. None of it would mean shit if you didn’t make it, if I didn’t have you. You matter and I fucking love you, you idiot!

He was looking at you oddly, you realised, the silence hanging between you so thickly you’d need a damn chainsaw to cut it. His hand still cradled yours, but as you watched, his shoulders slumped ever so slightly and the ready-for-anything gleam you were so painfully familiar with faded from his eyes. 

You both turned as someone – Luther – cleared his throat, a sharp silhouette against the glow of twilight through the window behind him. 

“Are you alright?” your friend asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Yeah,” you huffed, pulling back and running both your now-free hands through your hair. 

“Ethan?” 

“Yeah.” 

Another silence, though less tense. 

“Taking a shower,” you muttered, feeling your own body slouch as the adrenaline drained from you. You were sweaty, hot, dusty, shaky and too strung out for any more of this shit. Nobody stopped you as you trudged past first Ethan, then Luther, down the narrow hallway and into the small hotel bathroom. You thought you could hear Luther’s rumbling voice over the stream of shower water, Ethan’s higher-pitched response, but couldn’t make out any words. Maybe that was for the better.

In your dream, Ethan wasn’t fine. In your dream, he hadn’t moved as fast and wasn’t stumbling to his feet, pulling you with him. In your dream, he went down and stayed down, breath coming fast and short, and instead of a rip in his sleeve there was a dark stain spreading over his chest. 

“Ethan?” you said, watching yourself scramble across the rough dirt of the street to his side, your hands flitting uselessly over his torso. 

He cursed, taking your hand as he had so many times before, big and warm and more comforting than it had any right to be. “You alright?” he asked, teeth gritted. 

“Yeah, fine. Fuck, Ethan hold on–” 

“No, (Y/N)–” 

“Hold on , dammit!” It was amazing how viscerally you could feel the pain, sharp and hot like a gunshot wound of your own. You fumbled at your pockets with one hand, pressing down on his chest with the other, but your phone was nowhere to be found. When you shouted for an ambulance or help or anything at all, nobody was listening. The market bustled on around you, the people no more real than shadows on a wall. 

Ethan was saying your name again, his blood hot and wet against your palm. Too much, too much too fast. 

“All that matters is that you’re alright,” he was telling you, and half your mind was seeing him as he had been in the hallway – serious, sweaty, patch of pink skin over his cheekbone hatched with where the dirt had caught and cut it as he’d rolled. 

In your dream, you told the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth, words spilling from you in a sick waterfall. “You matter, Ethan. You matter to me, I love you, do you know how much you matter to me?” 

You’d seen people die before. It was part and parcel of your job, so you knew what it looked like. This was no different. Ethan’s eyes were hazy, unfocussed, and he was too pale. There was a light sheen of sweat beading his face and neck. His chest was soaked with his blood and your hands were slick with it. His fingers were loosening around your own. 

“Ethan?” you asked, your own grip slackening as his head lolled. “Ethan, come on, just hold on–” 

No one’s coming. 

“Hold on, Ethan. Don’t go. Don’t go, I can’t do this without you.” 

He wasn’t looking at you anymore. 

“Please, just– listen to me. You don’t know. You have no idea how much you matter to me, how much I need you. Ethan, come on, I love you!” 

In your dream, Ethan was dead and you woke shivering despite the warmth of the room. You lay stock-still, counting to ten again and again until your breathing finally slowed and your heart rate returned to normal. You wriggled down under the sheet you’d draped over yourself, curling inwards and wishing for something more substantial than the loose t-shirt – once Ethan’s – and your underwear. 

You’d watched Ethan die a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Nobody would ever torture it out of you, but these – when he didn’t know, when it was too late before you told him – were the worst. It left you with a sick feeling in your gut, a hollow emptiness in your chest where your heart and lungs should have been, and limbs so heavy you were always surprised you managed to get up the next morning. And, of course, the inevitable wave of loathing at how fucking pathetic you were dreaming about telling your partner – friend , probably your best friend, because you were long past being coworkers – that you loved him. 

You sighed, turning over. It was close to the full moon, the open window casting a rectangle of silver over the lump that was your legs, the light breeze moving the curtains gently. You could get up and close it. You should. 

You’d been too pissed off and tired after your shower to do much more than grunt thanks to Luther when he handed you a cold doner kebab, eat it, then fall onto your bed and close your eyes. Usually, you’d have forced Ethan to take a shower too, waited until he emerged in fresh clothes and smelling like cheap soap, hair damp and curling around his ears, and patted the spot on the couch or bed or floor beside you. He’d always roll his eyes but sit anyway, and he’d stay sitting as you cleaned and dressed – sometimes stitched – whatever injuries he’d acquired with only minimal complaining. He’d give you the same treatment afterwards. 

You hadn’t done any of that before, and now you missed the little ritual. You’d been mentally cataloguing the first aid kit for antiseptic cream, bandages, wound pads, suture needles and sterile thread as soon as it had even clocked in your mind that he had more than just the graze to his cheek, the uncomfortable weight of your dream growing heavier with the realisation that you’d left it all to him. And Luther, you supposed. 

It was such a little thing, but in the moment it seemed to loom over you, blocking out the moon’s rectangle. 

You sighed again, your feet hitting the floor before you’d even fully realised that you were getting up. 2.28 AM glowed sickly green from the digital clock on the nightstand. Maybe if you hadn’t had that specific dream, you thought, you would have given this more consideration. Turned over and closed your eyes, decided to wait until morning proper, dismissed your guilt and concern as remnants of a stressful evening. But you had had that dream, and now that you’d eased the door open and were slipping down the hallway towards the room Ethan occupied, there was no way you could have turned back. 

His door was ajar, and didn’t squeal or protest when you eased it open. The set-up, like most hotel bedrooms, was exactly the same as your own. Cupboard on one wall (open, with a duffle bag resting half in and half out of it), dresser next to the door (two guns and a few spare magazines next to them), and a double bed by the window. The orientation of the room meant that the moonlight fell on the floor instead of the bed, but you could still clearly make out Ethan’s prone form, sheet wrinkled and twisted under him, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, a few strands of hair over his face fluttering with each breath. 

You’d seen him asleep before, of course you had. There hadn’t always been hotel rooms with two bedrooms and a pull-out couch to rotate through, nice as that was. There hadn’t even always been separate beds or mattresses – or any at all. Sometimes you ended up side by side in a queen that was supposed to be two singles, slumped on top of him in the back of a van or on a rooftop, curled against his back in a sleeping bag that was only really meant for one person. You didn’t mind, not really, but seeing him like that – totally relaxed, peaceful – tugged at something deep inside you. 

You hesitated, one hand on the doorframe, shivering once more in the breeze from his open window. The curtains billowed inwards, floated suspended for a moment, then receded back to brush at the thick sill. The bed rustled as Ethan turned over, and you froze. He’d said something, you thought he’d said something that sounded like your name. Then he did it again, and you were sure. 

“(Y/N).” 

You crossed the room silently, kneeling then lying smoothly on the bed and against his back like you were made to fit there. He hummed softly as your arm slid over his ribs, your fingers splayed over his heart. Still beating, strong and even and alive. 

He sighed, shifting ever so slightly back towards you, his own hand finding yours, larger fingers lacing with your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathed. The dressing on his arm where the bullet had clipped him seemed to glow, taunting you. He did this himself, it said. You left, he almost took a fucking bullet for you and you didn’t even fix it for him .

The slow expansion and contraction of his torso paused for a moment. Neither of you were heavy sleepers, your job had seen to that. “(Y/N)?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What’re you sorry for?” he asked, voice thick with sleep. 

Everything. “Yelling at you. I just…” You paused, no longer cold in the shadow of your dream, but still aware of its presence. “I don’t wanna see you get hurt.” 

There was a beat of silence, then he was turning over again to face you, his hand slipping from your own to run up over your forearm, your elbow, your upper arm, catching momentarily on the sleeve of your shirt before coming to rest on your shoulder. “You’re here,” he whispered. “Thought I was dreaming…” 

You smiled, reaching out to run your fingers around the neck of his wifebeater singlet. Even just waking up, he looked good in the damn thing. “You were.” 

He frowned, the patch of rough red hashing standing out in the silvery dimness. Up this close, you could see every minute crease between his brows that hadn’t been there a minute ago, every tiny line of tension around his eyes. “What’re you doing here?” he asked. 

 You shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I felt bad.” I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help you and I couldn’t tell you, and you still don’t know. 

“For yelling at me?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I don’t wanna see you get hurt, either. That’s–” 

“All that matters. You said.” 

You were at a crossroads. You felt it as if someone had infused your every cell with the knowledge that you had two options, and you could only take one, and it would change things. How, you weren’t sure, but the sticky warmth of Ethan’s blood between your fingers and the rough dirt digging into your knees still made your skin tingle. 

“You’re wrong,” you continued. “That’s not all that matters.” 

The frown deepened. “Hm?” 

“You matter, Ethan. To me. If I don’t have you…” You shrugged, once again counting your breaths. How was it that you were more highly strung now than you had been while you were quite literally being chased through a market and shot at? It was so far away now, a distant memory of someone else. This, here, the gap barely wider than ten centimetres between your face and Ethan’s, the warm air and the pale moonlight, the warmer weight of his hand still on your shoulder… That was real. 

But bravery – a strange word, you realised, even as you had the thought – only went so far. “Don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” you finished lamely. 

He knew it wasn’t what you’d been going to say, that it barely went half way to getting across what you wanted to. But still, he just smiled and gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You won’t ever have to find out.” 

Maybe you weren’t really awake. Maybe you’d wandered into his dream instead of his room, or maybe (and more likely) he’d found his way into yours. Maybe you really had turned over and gone back to sleep instead of padding down the hall and sliding in next to him, and this was your mind’s way of apologising to you for the earlier horror show. It must be, you reasoned, because somewhere you’d ended up pressed against his front – something that hadn’t happened before; you always found yourself curled around him from behind. Your skin felt like it was on fire as his hand slid across your collar, up your neck to rest on your cheek. 

The kiss, when it came, hardly registered as something new. After all, how many times had this played out in your mind? How many times had you wondered what it would be like to move those last few centimetres, lean across that last gap, shove the two of you over that line like he’d shoved you out of the way of that bullet. It was an extension of where you were right now, of where you’d been for the last however long, of where you’d somehow known you were eventually going to end up. 

He was as gentle with you as he’d always been, soft and so painfully careful. He held you like you might break, as if you were something precious and delicate, his hand warm where he cradled your face. You felt the last sticky residue of tension and fear drain from your body as you slid the hand that had been resting on his chest down, over his ribs, around his back, pressing between his shoulder blades. 

“Ethan,” you whispered as he pulled away, still close enough that you could feel his breath on your face. You weren’t shivering anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he replied, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You smiled, every cell in your body tingling with warmth. “So’re you.” 

“Mm-mm,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Not like you. You have no idea how beautiful you are.” 

There wasn’t much your kiss-addled, Ethan-filled brain could say to that. You closed the gap once more, his mouth impossibly soft, the faint hint of his toothpaste clinging to his tongue when it slid against your own. Someone – you or him, you weren’t sure – made a tiny noise somewhere in the realm of a sigh as you shifted even closer to him, hooking your leg over his. 

He was almost on top of you now, leaning over you, suspended carefully on one arm. You’d been here before, pressed into the floor of wherever you were sparring, sweaty and determined to do whatever it took to gain the upper hand again. Secretly, though, you’d wondered what that would feel like like this, and now you wondered if he had, too. 

Just as you had all those other times, you pushed your hips up off the mattress and flipped him smoothly. He huffed as you straddled him, blinking up at you in surprise before a smile spread over his face and he sat up, kissing you once more, his hands settling on your hips. You were half aware of your body curving towards his as your hands tangled in his hair, the rapid deterioration of your kisses into something that probably wouldn’t fit the word under any stringent definition. 

“Can I?” he asked, fingers flitting around the hem of your shirt. 

You just nodded, pulling the garment over your head quicker than you ever had before and casting it aside. If Ethan recognised it, he didn’t say anything. 

“You too,” you whispered when he didn’t show any signs of copying you, pulling at the thin cotton of his own shirt. 

“Huh?” 

“Shirt, dummy,” you smiled. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who’s naked.” 

“All’s fair in love and war.” 

Love. Your heart sped up at the word. This could be love. Or war, you supposed.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” you said, wrinkling your nose. 

“Sure it is,” he shrugged. But his hands were at the hem of the stupid thing, and before you could say anything else he was easing it over his head – mindful of his arm – and tossing it to join yours. “Fair now?” 

“Yeah.” You’d seen him without a shirt before. Changing in the back of a van, bandaging a cracked rib or disinfecting a patch of tiny cuts where he’d rolled through broken glass (which happened far too frequently, in your opinion), passing him on his way out of the bathroom. Every time made your stomach flip over and your mind race, but you’d never been able to touch him like this before; run your hands down over his shoulders and arms, across his stomach, up again over his chest, around his ribcage, down the curve of his spine. 

He was in the same boat, you supposed, smiling as his hand slid appreciatively up your side, thumb skimming the soft underside of your breast. You moaned as he bent to kiss down the column of your throat, sucking at the flesh over your jugular and where your neck met your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin occasionally, tongue soothing the blossoming marks left behind. 

“Can I ask you something?” you sighed as he mouthed at the hollow of your collar bone. 

“Yeah.” 

“You said my name before. Were you dreaming about me?” 

Again, “Yeah.” 

You smiled. “What about me?” 

“That you were here.” He broke away from your skin, stretching to place a soft kiss on your lips. “And you were safe.” 

“Well I am.” There was more to it, you could feel it. 

“You are.” Another kiss, almost chaste in its brevity. 

“What else?” you asked. 

He paused, hesitant, then, “You had your legs around my neck.” 

Oh. Oh. 

“Fuck, Ethan,” you whispered. That image wasn’t a new one. The fact that he dreamed about you was news enough, but that… That sent a veritable deluge of heat and desire down through your body, pooling wetly between your thighs. You had to consciously stop yourself from grinding on him right then and there.  

You wouldn’t have been able to, anyway. He was pushing you backwards now, his kisses trailing down over your sternum, between your breasts – he paused here to mouth at one, kneading the other gently, making you moan again – and on to your stomach. He slowed when he reached the waistband of your underwear, kissing across the bridge between your hip bones, leaving you a belt of faint hickeys. 

“Can–” 

“Yes,” you answered.

He looked up at you from where he’d slid between your legs, one hand on your hip and the other pushing at your thigh. His hair hung over his forehead and almost into his eyes (you’d been trying to get him to let you trim it for weeks now), lips pink and kiss-swollen and so pretty. “Ok,” he smiled, pulling your underwear down over your legs shockingly easily, considering they were still wrapped around his waist. You cursed softly as he bent his head again, kissing the inside of your thigh. 

“Wondered what this’d be like,” he whispered, sucking at a spot beside it.

“Fuck, Ethan,” you gasped, your hand sliding down to rest on his head, fingers carding through his hair. 

He hummed softly into your skin. “What you’d taste like.” 

You cursed again as he licked over the mark, fingers skirting where you wanted him most, your skin on fire with every kiss.

“What you’d sound like.”

You pressed your lips together firmly, stifling any sound as he slid a finger over your wetness. You raised your head, meeting his eyes directly. “Do you wanna find out?” 

“Yes,” he breathed. His breath hitched in his chest, and there was that perfect movie-star grin. “Fuck, yes.” 

You opened your mouth to say something to that, but before the words had formed in your mind Ethan was licking up your cunt and the only thing that came out of your mouth was an embarrassingly loud moan. You felt him smile, his own soft noise of pleasure muffled against your flesh as he licked again, then sucked determinedly at your clit. 

“Oh, fuck , Ethan–” you gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs locked around his shoulders. 

“Hm?” 

“That’s fucking– You’re– Holy shit that’s good.” 

Ethan just grinned again, his tongue flicking over you, one finger circling your entrance. A suggestion. “Is this alright?” 

You nodded frantically, pressing your lips together as he pushed it inside you. “Yes,” you whined as he licked you again, letting yourself fall back onto the mattress as the hand not gripping his hair twisted in the sheets. He groaned softly, the sound reverberating over you as he sucked your clit, his finger working your hole. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop–” you panted, practically grinding on his face. 

A soft hum, then he was adding a second finger, lapping up everything you were giving him as you squirmed , your breath coming in ragged gasps. You could feel the orgasm coming now, coiling in your stomach like a spring, hot and tight and Ethan was the one building it up. Every curl of his fingers, every brush of his tongue and lips, every little grunt or hum, and his free hand gripping your thigh like a vice. You hoped you’d have bruises. 

“Oh, oh, Ethan, oh my God–” 

Close, you were so damn close. You were aware of your hips jutting up against his face, and the tiny part of your brain that wasn’t consumed with pleasure and want might have felt bad. 

“I’m gonna– fuck – holy shit , Ethan– Ethan I’m gonna–” 

Then everything was crashing around you and you were crying his name, your legs spasming and your spine arching, electricity fizzing through you. Ethan continued fucking you with his hand, slower and gentler now, his mouth soft on your sensitive clit. Maybe it was gradual, maybe not, but eventually your body transitioned from roiling static to a gentle buzz and your grip on his hair slackened, your legs relaxing around his shoulders. 

He sat calmly between your legs, licking his fingers. The entire lower half of his face shone silver in the moonlight with your slick, his lips pink and swollen, eyes fixed keenly on you. You thought if he looked at you like that a second longer, you were going to cum all over again. 

You smiled at him, your hand finding his where it still rested on your hip. Gently (though maybe it was because your limbs still felt so heavy and floppy), you pulled him up the bed and down on top of yourself, stretching up to kiss him hard. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue when it slid into your mouth, and his hand on your skin was slightly sticky. It slid around your waist, pushing against the small of your back, pressing your chest to his. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to get enough of it.

You whispered his name against his lips, your own hands settled firmly around his shoulders, holding on for dear life. The fabric of his underwear – why the hell was he still wearing anything? – seemed to burn where it brushed over your hip, pressing hot and hard against you. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, pulling back enough to study your face carefully, as if he were memorising every detail. 

You felt the air catch in your lungs, your heart skip a beat. “You’re so…” Pretty. Lovely. Gorgeous. Hot. Handsome. Beautiful. You’re everything, Ethan. “God, I love you.”

He froze, and it was only then that you realised you’d said it. You’d actually said the goddamn words, aloud, to him. 

“Are you serious?” he asked. Not incredulous, not judgemental, simply seeking clarification. 

And how the hell were you supposed to lie? You nodded, your mouth suddenly dry. 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you,” you repeated numbly. Then, swallowing, “Is that ok?” 

Another beat passed in silence, then he laughed. “Yes, dammit, I love you too.” 

“You… love me too.” Had you heard him right? Had you somehow wandered back to your dream, fallen into an orgasm-dulled sleep and imagined the last few minutes? But no, Ethan’s lips felt real enough when they brushed yours again, his fingers felt real enough on your back. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” 

“Say it again.” 

“I love you. And you love me, don’t you?” 

You nodded, an absurd bubble of laughter swelling in your chest. “Yes,” you grinned. “I love you, Ethan.”

This kiss was different. A kiss has to taste different after something like that, you supposed, and you were both still smiling. You reached down, your fingers skirting the waistband of his underwear, then further still to press your hand against his hard bulge. He moaned into your mouth, breaking the kiss to glance down, up again. 

“Off,” you whispered, already pulling at the fabric. He obliged, quickly and smoothly as he’d rid himself of his shirt, and in a moment his lips were back against your own, hot and hungry. You took his cock in your hand, your own lips moving away from his across his jaw, the hollow where it met his neck, his skin clean and smooth and tasting faintly of hotel soap. 

His dick was hot to the touch, thick and long and roped with veins. You’d wondered, sometimes, what this would feel like. You’d imagined the sound he’d make when you touched him like this (it couldn’t ever have come close to the real thing, you knew that now), how that hot weight would feel against your tongue. He groaned in earnest as you stroked your hand along his length, your thumb swiping around the leaking head. He cursed softly, your name hissing between his teeth, hips moving gently in tandem with your hand. 

“I wanted you for so long, Ethan,” you murmured into his neck. “You have no idea.” 

“Yeah?” 

You smiled. “I dream about you too, you know.” 

He faltered, just for a moment, then, “What about me?” 

You felt your smile widen and you frantically suppressed the urge to laugh again at the echo of your own earlier words. “I dream about fucking you six ways into next week,” you said simply. “Sucking your cock till I’m choking on it and making you cum in my mouth. Or in my pussy, I don’t care.”

“Oh fuck, (Y/N), Jesus,” he groaned, the sound sending another bolt of heat to your still sensitive pussy. “You think about that when we’re out there?” 

“Mhm.” This time you did laugh, nothing more than a soft exhale, not stopping your hand’s movements. “Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to jerk you off when you’re tryna aim a gun.” 

His cock twitched in your grasp, a low moan pressed back behind his lips. “God, (Y/N) that’s–” 

“Insane?” 

“So fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Wanna feel you, all of you. Can I?” 

Now it was your turn to curse. “Yes,” you breathed, wriggling to wrap your legs around his waist, your hand leaving its place to grip his shoulder, run down his arm, guide his hand to your hip. “Please, Ethan.”

“Here?” 

“Yeah. Here.” You ground your hips against his, already tingling as his cock slid against your slick centre. “I want you inside me. Need you.” 

“Shit, ok, just let me–” He broke off as he sank into you, his hum of pleasure mingling with your own breathy moan. Maybe it was the after effects of your earlier orgasm, the dream state you still weren’t entirely sure you’d broken out of, or a combination of both, but you swore that nothing would ever top this feeling. It was like he was made for you, slow and soft as he pulled out and pushed back in, did it again, then again and again. 

“Shit, Ethan,” you whispered, your hand coming up to run over the back of his head, fingers carding through his mussed-up hair as he bent his head to kiss your chest. You were glad it was still long enough for this, that you hadn’t managed to get him to cut it. He groaned against you and you smiled to yourself, stroking his scalp again and coaxing another wonderful little moan. You curled your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, lifting your hips off the mattress in time with his thrusts. His breath fanned over your neck, the muscles of his arm taut. 

“Harder?” you murmured. “Don’t have to be so gentle.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he replied, his breath warm against your skin. 

“You won’t, don’t worry. Please?” 

He raised his head, eyes searching your face. “Ok,” he said, dipping down to kiss your lips quickly and softly before he was drawing away and sitting back between your legs, lifting your hips with one hand and sliding a pillow under your lower back with the other. 

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swirling alongside the magma in your stomach. This time he pushed hard into you, his cock stroking every inch of your insides, the hand that had been on your hip sliding to press down on your pelvis. “Yes,” you gasped, “yes, just like that.” 

“Like this?” Another thrust, even and determined. 

“Yeah, oh fuck that’s so good.” You reached up over your head, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed as the other twisted in the sheets, eyes fixed on Ethan. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, shining as though he was cast in silver. He was a fucking masterpiece. 

“You’re so good,” he said. “You look so perfect like that, feel like Heaven, (Y/N), I swear.” 

Oh, did he know what he was doing to you? Every jolt of his hips against yours building low inside you, his barely restrained little sounds and the heaving of his chest. You weren’t going to last much longer. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, “ fuck, Ethan, you feel so good. Making me feel so fucking good, so good , you have no idea.” 

“Hm?” 

“So hot. You’re so goddamn hot, you know that?” 

“(Y/N)–” 

You were close. You were so fucking close, wound tight and ready to snap at any moment. You whined his name, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, legs tight around his waist. 

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m– I’m gonna–” He broke off, pressing his lips together, his eyes fixed on you. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum?”

“Yeah, fuck, where do I–” 

“In me.” 

“You sure?” 

Were you sure? You’d been sure for way too long now. “Yeah, dammit, wanna feel you cum in my pussy, fucking filling me up so good–” 

That did it. His thrusts stuttered and slowed as he spilled inside you, his chest heaving and his head tilted back, eyes closed, your name falling from his lips like a prayer. God, he was just too much, and you’d made him look like that. It had been you, all you, and it was you he was still buried deep inside. Your own climax rolled over you with that, your body squeezing tight and hot around him, your grip on the bed hard enough that you were sure your knuckles were white, spine arching as bliss flooded your body. You might have said his name, he might have said yours again, but it didn’t matter. 

You lay there, warm all over and shaking, watching him. After a moment, his eyes opened and he smiled at you, gingerly pulling out to flop beside you on the mattress. 

“Clean up?” he asked, already reaching over the side of the bed. 

“Yeah.” You were too heavy to do anything but let him gently run the towel he’d found between your legs, thighs and stomach twitching when the rough cotton came into contact with your oversensitive clit. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, cursorily wiping at his own crotch before tossing the piece of fabric away. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you sighed again, wriggling off the pillow and kicking it aside. You shifted closer to him, his arm sliding around your shoulders and pulling you against his side, his heart beating strong next to your own. Your eyes were drawn to the darker, rougher patch on his cheek, and you frowned. 

“What?” he asked. 

“This.” You ran your fingers over it gently, barely even touching the skin, doing the same to the dressing on his arm. “And this. Can I have a look tomorrow?” 

“It is tomorrow.” He nodded to the clock. Right, yeah. After midnight. “I thought I did an ok job,” he went on before you could say anything. 

“Ethan, there’s nothing even on this one,” you protested. “It’s just… there.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna kiss it better?” 

“I never said that.” You smiled, dipping to brush the spot with your lips. Featherlight, barely there. “Better?” 

He nodded. 

“I still want to check them.” 

“Ok,” he relented, squeezing your shoulder gently.  

You shifted closer, your face inches from his own. Up this close, you could see the baby hairs stuck to his forehead with sweat, every eyelash shining iridescent white under the moon. “I meant it,” you whispered.

“What?” 

“That you matter to me. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” 

His breath rushed through his lungs and back out again as he stretched to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re the most important thing to me, too. I love you.” 

You tilted your face to his, this time meeting his lips with your own. It was slow, unhurried, relaxed and tender, and everything you adored in Ethan. “I love you, too,” you whispered into it. Then, grinning as you drew back, “And I meant all the other stuff, too.” 

He raised an eyebrow, “All of it?” 

“Yeah.” 

His chest shook with faint laughter under you, his hand stroking over your shoulder. “I didn’t know you thought like that. Didn’t know you thought about me like that.” 

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, shrugging, your cheeks warm. “Sorry if it was a bit much.” 

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it wasn’t. I liked it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You know,” you said as you lay down, “anyone else couldn’t waterboard that out of me.” 

“Guess I’m just that special.” 

“You are, Ethan.” You weren’t shivering anymore, the only weight in you was the pleasant kind of exhaustion that came with finally being safe, being home. Ethan was alive and he knew, he knew you loved him, and he knew what he meant to you, and he loved you too. If this was a dream, it was the best one you’d ever had.

[borisdunand]

Tu fais des films La musique des yeux Regard ouvert tout le temps Ça ne s'arrête pas Y a des lignes partout Des couleurs au ventre Couleuvres mentales Faut pas logiquer paniquer Rien de grave Le débile enfante l'agave Des jeux de sots C'est tout on s'en balance De ce qu'il en pense Le grand balèze Du haut de son trapèze Occidental crotale Va chier dans ta caisse Nous on se la ramène pas Bien je suis là C'est pas la même histoire Mais aussi dans la paume Le style il peut prendre des poses Pondre des psaumes Moi aussi la rime gratuite facile Je la donne au mur comme un miroir Pour me bien voir abstrait et flou Petit homme tout doux Trop de son pour de bon On laisse couler l'eau Faut que ça me sorte du ciboulot Que la balle au ventre Elle tire son coup franc Que je mette mes paillettes Au bord des pages douillettes À l'heure où je passe ma vie au placard Maintenant dans l’heure j’ai rencard Avec le feu qui s'éteint pas Tandis que la terre se couvre Ne coupe pas mes pas

[alicewhimzy]

My Dad and I like to talk about a lot of stuff. One of the things he's been fascinated by is media transmutability and using existing media to make new things. One example he mentioned is "This Spartan Life", a talk show done in the first person shooter Halo 2. This reminded me of the many many animations that many many creators have made over the years out of a game I've liked for a while and unfortunately have only recently been able to start playing; Team Fortress 2. One film in particular stuck out in my mind. I brought it up, we discussed it and after a while he agreed to watch it with me. That was a week or so ago.

🪚🩺🩸

Last night I watched Emesis Blue with my Dad. He was a bit surprised at how little dialogue there was but overall we both really liked it. The stylized design of the nine mercs and the other models works in this film's favor, giving the film a sense of identity that a more conventional live action film wouldn't have. It reminded my dad of the comic Sin City. It is a story with quite a lot of violence, which I think is to be expected considering what it's based on, but even then, it's not gratuitous, not much you wouldn't see in the game proper. It's in support of the plot, and even if there's not as much dialogue as other films, the visual storytelling makes up for it. Also the references to other horror works such as the shining are a nice touch.

One element I like in particular is the fact that the film misleads us so well. At first it seems to be a standard noir outing, especially regarding the storyline of Jacques and Columbo. There's a short fight and a mcguffin in a briefcase is introduced. But once we reach Conagher Slaughterhouse, there's an uncanny eerieness that quickly comes over the audience and never really leaves. We have no way of knowing how much of what we see is real or not, and neither do the characters involved, and nowhere is this doubt in reality shown more prevalently and brilliantly than in Dr. Fritz Ludwig.

Of all the stories told about the tf2 Medic I think this is the greatest I've ever seen. In game, Medic is famous, or infamous, depending on perspective, for being not quite all there in the sanity department. The kind of person who will brag about stealing someone's skeleton. The kind of person who can and has performed soul-transplantation multiple times. The kind of person who will casually mention implanting someone with a fully functioning baboon uterus pregnant with triplets, only a slight exaggeration. He's crazy, he knows it and we love him for it. In Emesis Blue however, this component of the Medic's character, the concept of being mentally unwell, is shown with care and nuance. He is never referred to by his class, but instead has the full name, Dr. Fritz Ludwig. This well-meaning but unstable man is put on a downward track from the moment we first see him, by forces he can neither understand nor control. He blames himself for Jeremy's kidnapping and later death, and wants to find a way to save or at least avenge him or redeem himself. But once he does so and the brothers are dead, his hope is only to survive. Every time he must fight for his life it deeply affects him as he is faced with unbelievable hallucinations. Is it some twisted effect the malfunctioning respawn machine is having on the world around it, or is it his own sanity slowly abandoning him. We see other characters hallucinating, but him? He has no idea. Fritz is constantly fighting a losing war with his own troubled mind, and the situation he's stuck in and trying so hard to get out of is only making it worse, as he gets closer and closer to what the enigmatic undertaker in black has already become. An unstoppable undying force of violence. Not even the others are safe from this, as Jeremy, Stalingrad, Mundy and Jacques clearly show.

Oddly enough however, the film ends on a somewhat bittersweet, if not uplifting note. The two timing schemer Archibald is dead, so is that asshole Jacques, and with no one else to run the company and its involvement in the gravel war coming to light, it's clear that it's going to crash and burn. Good riddance. Mr. Doe survives and makes it out of the funeral alive, secure in the knowledge that many, if not all crimes against him and the other mercs will finally come to light. Fritz is the last one holding the briefcase and even gets to finally reconcile with Jeremy at Dell's bar in the afterlife, even if he respawns one last time soon after. But by far the greatest thing about this film, and the thing that made up for the minimal dialogue for my dad, is the atmosphere.

The atmosphere is nothing short of mesmerizing, there's very little music, only just enough to supplement the tone in a few scenes. All other times the ambient sounds of the environment are all the scene needs to establish how creepy, surreal or hopeless the tone of a scene is. The nigh-omnipresent contrast of red and blue throughout this film, directly calling back to the opposing teams and their perpetual pointless war, is employed to masterful effect, whether to indicate a turning point in a scene, or to illustrate how conflicted a character is. It's simple, maybe even a bit obvious, but it's great nonetheless.

More than anything, watching this film feels like descending into madness in a way that I personally haven't seen an animated film do before now. The feeling that you have while watching Emesis Blue is like swallowing a hungry parasite, and I mean that in the best possible way. It comes upon you slowly but surely, you almost don't perceive it, and by the time you do, it's already got its fangs into you. It nestles deep inside your brain and squirms there long after the credits have run, so that hours later, awake in your bed, you're still thinking about it. Visceral. Terrifying. Beautiful.

Emesis Blue is a modern work of art. My dad thought it was a bit lacking in the script department, but I loved it. If you like your horror with existentialism, surrealism and lots of guns, then I recommend you check it out. It's available on YouTube and I only hope that Fortress Films projects will continue to entertain us in the future. Until next time, how long have I been waiting to do this one?

~A.W.

[king-bob-4ever]

Do ya got any minion headcanons

Yes indeed! They're a little gratuitous, but I have a few! And mostly focused on the main three, what can I say.

🍌 Minions produce pheromones that function similarly to ants'. They help them do things like coordinate (a la all their impromptu dancing and singing), delegate tasks non-verbally and across distances (there's much work to be done in quick time-frames when you're a henchman), and convey emotions/reactions in large groups (helpful in situations where they need to avoid something, like when they had to run from upset bosses for example). They produce these pheromones via their whiskery little hairs. This also provides an explanation for why bald little Bob is much more sensitive to loneliness and why he needs to be physically near another minion lest he succumb to melancholy; minions are a social species and these hypothetical pheromones assure them that they're not alone no matter where they are (within reason)! Bob's baldness is quite an unfortunate defect for a tender little thing like him.🙁

🍌 Kevin possesses an unusually developed brain. When he's formally introduced in Minions (2015), the first thing he does is something that I can imagine is highly unusual for a MINION of all creatures to do; he takes up a position of LEADERSHIP! Desperate times call for desperate measures, eh? Regardless, he seems to thrive when put in charge of an operation despite a minions ENTIRE LIFEBLOOD revolving around serving other villains humbly (eh, maybe "humbly" is giving minions as a species too much credit LOL). He's always first to take charge when something goes wrong (re: Rise of Gru), and the others acknowledge this by turning to him in times of crisis (ditto). I wish we saw more of him in the Despicable Me films, because otherwise this headcanon seems... a little spineless. Still, Kevin's ability- nay, his DESIRE to do carefully planned and selfless things seems to separate him from the others neurologically. Of course, he's always willing to blend in with the crowd and get stuff done as a regular old minion. (That being said, he's only marginally more mature than the average minion LOL.)

🍌 ...I wish I had something to say in the way of minions and gender because there's definitely some potential there discussion-wise. Supposedly all minions are men because Pierre Coffin didn't think an all-female species would be that stupid which is a hilarious thing to make canon, provided that it's true, but I digress. Minions seem: a) easily infatuated with women/femininity and b)...I mean they're all male, that much is indisputable. They use masculine terms when referring to one another (Saying "le [name]" for example). Given the fact that they have no reproductive organs does complicate this a bit as they have zero reason to distinguish different sexes. They also cross-dress regularly whenever it suits a situation and never are there "men-in-dress" jokes made (which is very refreshing for such a ridiculous franchise) so there's an apparent lack of strict gender-roles amongst minion tribes. ...I had a point with this, I think. 🍌 Essentially, minions are MALE but only because that's how they popped out of the water. The word is seemingly meaningless to them. I'll pretend not to be jealous of the societal structures of fuckin' MINIONS of all things regarding gender stuff, lol. 🥲

🍌 ...To be honest that's all I've got off the top of my head. Sorry if this isn't exactly coherent, I've been busy all week long and I'm too wound-up (and sweaty ugh) to sleep right. Thanks for the ask!

[plaidetchocolatchaud]

Si je détaille ça va faire un pavé et j'ai la flemme mais j'ai vraiment zéro envie de regarder la cérémonie. Déjà le fait que cet argent méritait d'être dépensé pour autre chose mais aussi et surtout le côté "grand spectacle" là je ne sais pas pourquoi cette année ça ne passe pas. Je vais aller à un petit concert gratuit jusqu'à 20h et ensuite rentrer chez moi je vais lancer un film ou lire une bd je pense.

Compliqué à expliquer mais pour plusieurs raisons j'ai pas envie de regarder un show de 2-3h. J'ai des livres en retard à la médiathèque, médiathèque demain, je n'ai pas pu regarder de films de la semaine. Et de toutes façons je vais regarder la gym. C'est peut être "dommage" de rater ça mais je fais ce que je veux après tout.

[soeurdelune]

parce qu'on approche doucement mais sûrement de la spooky season 🎃, c'est l'occasion de parfaire votre culture en films d'horreur! voici une petite sélection de 10 diamants du genre, visionnables gratuitement sur youtube (et sous titrés en anglais pour ceux en langue étrangère! que demande le peuple...) il va sans dire que l'horreur étant un genre parfois costaud, pensez à vérifier vos triggers pour chaque film sur le site does the dog die?

carnival of souls, 1962 (vo: anglais américain), une masterclass, un des premiers grand films d'horreur moderne, il a inspiré des réalisateurs comme david lynch ou james wan. (la note de lune: 5/5)

el espinazo del diablo (l'échine du diable), 2001 (vo: espagnol), personne ne raconte une histoire de fantômes comme guillermo del toro, un très beau film qui inaugure sa trilogie de la guerre civile, à suivre avec le labyrinthe de pan et son pinocchio de 2022. (la note de lune: 4/5)

a tale of two sisters, 2003 (vo: coréen), des influences gothiques saisissantes et une histoire aux allures de diabolique petit puzzle. (la note de lune: 4/5)

ringu, 1998 (vo: japonais), un immense classique de la j-horror que l'on ne présente plus, efficace et très bien ficelé, featuring hiroyuki sanada ♥️ (la note de lune: 5/5)

the last man on earth, 1964 (vo: anglais américain), inspiré du roman i am legend qui a donné une palanquée d'adaptations au fil des années, celui-ci est de loin mon favori, vincent price est une ICÔNE et ce film est un pur plaisir à regarder. (la note de lune: 4/5)

kairo (pulse), 2001 (vo: japonais), un autre classique de la j-horror, l'ambiance est profondément troublante et mélancolique, avec des scènes qui vous hanteront pendant un bon moment. (la note de lune: 4/5)

hellraiser, 1987 (vo: anglais américain), tout le monde l'a probablement déjà vu mais la version youtube est tellement quali que je le mets ici quand même, pinhead est un méchant incroyable, le film a des défauts mais les qualités l'emportent sur le reste, un bijou de l'horreur un peu gory des 80s! (la note de lune: 3/5)

donnie darko, 2001 (vo: anglais américain), diffile à mettre dans une catégorie plutôt qu'une autre, un peu d'horreur mêlée à du thriller psychologique et une pointe de sci-fi, ça reste un classique au dénouement final incroyable. (la note de lune: 5/5)

one missed call, 2003 (vo: japonais), juré après j'arrête avec la j-horror, celui-ci est plus efficace dans sa seconde moitié que dans la première, il y a des moments qui font vraiment vraiment peur. (la note de lune: 3/5)

les yeux sans visage, 1960 (vo: français), avant la piel que habito d'almodovar, il y a eu les yeux sans visage, un petit précurseur considéré comme le premier film d'horreur moderne français. (la note de lune: 3/5)

[mel-et-ses-histoires]

Alors,

Petit point lecture et serie.

J'ai commencé la serie Fallout d'Amazone. Pour ce qui ne connaissent pas c'est une adaptation d'une tres vieille serie de jeux vidéo (1994, au mon dieu je suis vieille) qui, pour faire simple, est un jeu de role dans un univers post apo : le monde s'est arrêté au niveau culturelle et politique aux années 50,gros conflit entre les USA et la Chine jusqu'à ce que pleins de bombes atomiques viennent faire des bisous à toutes les grandes villes.

200 ans plus tard les USA sont une terre radioactive et désolée ou des gens survivent comme ils peuvent. Certains abri antiatomiques ont permis a des groupes de survivrent sous terre pendant des générations sans trop savoir ce qui se passent a l'exterieur. Le jeu était violent, tres libre niveau choix moraux et c'était tres bien. C'est un jeux qui m'avait beaucoup beaucoup marqué pour son univers.

Du coup la serie repose sur exactement les même bases et c'est une série que je n'attendais pas du tout du tout du tout du tout du tout du tout.

Car en fait les adaptions en film ou serie de jv il y en a déjà eu pas mal et c'était pas souvent top top (pas de budget, pas d'écriture, on considère que la cible est un ado debile de 14 ans). Donc je n'en attendais rien. J'etais légitimement en droit de me dire que la serie serait tres gentille niveau moralité (des gentils tout gentils, des méchants tout mechants, on tappe pas sur les enfants toussa), sans trop de violence ou quelque chose de trop "propre".

J'ai commencé a regardé et en fait c'est une très bonne surprise. Niveau effet speciaux ils ont fait le bon choix : pas trop de budget donc on fait pas semblant d'en avoir. Un peu de FX et le reste en effet reel.

Il y a de la violence. Dont de la violence gratuite, car dans cet univers il n'y a pas de raison qu'il n'y en ai pas. Le personnage principal n'est pas une princesse, elle est ultra naive mais c'est justifié mais si il faut découper une tete a la tronçonneuse ( oui oui) elle souffle un coup, sort un "oki doki" et vroum vroum.

Parce ce que dans ma méfiance j'avais oublié quelque chose : la serie The last of Us a montré qu'on pouvais faire une adaptation de jv sans que ce soit comique ou pour enfant, qu'on pouvait essayer de fairz ca aec serieux.

Donc, je n'ai pas fini la serie donc pas d'avis définitif mais pour l'instant j'ai l'impression qu'on ne se moque ps de moi et qu'on me parle pas comme une debile quand je regarde donc ca me vas.

Niveau lecture je suis (encore) en train de (re) lire Les annales de la compagnie noire, une longue serie de romans qui racontent les perigrinations d'une troupe de mercenaires. Les perso ne sont pas des gentils, ceux qui les engagent non plus, ceux qu'ils combattent encore moins. Il y a plus de morts que dans un marriage à Westeros d'autant que l'histoire se deroule sur quelques dizaines d'annes.

Et voila ti pas qu'une nouvelle m'arrive : une adaptation en jeu de role papier est en préparation !

C'est pas beau tout ça ?

[vividxp]

I'm very sleep deprived, so I'm taking the easy route straight from your post suggestions (bc I can't form thoughts otherwise rn but want to hear your what you have to say) so what are your thoughts on episode 5 reception then?

I think there's something to be said about how one page in a novel may be nothing at all in the long scheme of things, but there's a common film writing cliché about how one page in a screenplay is equivalent to one minute on screen.

So consider the following excerpt from IWTV, the book:

"And our fragile domestic tranquility erupted with [Lestat's] outrage. He did not have to be loved, but he would not be ignored; and once he even flew at her, shouting that he would slap her, and I found myself in the wretched position of fighting him as I'd done years before she'd come to us."

That's two sentences. And yet, without claiming that this is the exact scene the writers put on screen (because it's most likely not), isn't this pretty close to what happened at the end of episode 5? Claudia was speaking to Louis mentally about finding other vampires, Lestat lunges at her, Louis tackles Lestat and they fight.

But the difference is, "wretched" or not, the book spent 2 sentences and moved on (to another instance of Lestat being irritated by Claudia). Were there any injuries? What did Claudia think about almost being slapped and having to watch her parents fight?

The show on the other hand shows all of that and more.

So I want to stop here and say that I think there are two arguments that people are making regarding episode 5 and I am personally responding to only one of them. The first argument is that the execution of the scene was overly gratuitous and there was no proper trigger warnings. The second argument is that the scene was not only out of character on Lestat's part, but the writers have written themselves into a hole they can't get out of because no one will accept Louis and Lestat as a couple because of episode 5. This latter argument is the one I'm mostly talking about.

Ok, as I continue, I want to look at Claudia's epiphany that Lestat has to go in episode 6. What I find fascinating is how close it was to the book.

This is the excerpt in the book:

"But I know it now," [Claudia] said with authority. "The vampire made a slave of him, and [Lestat] would no more be a slave than I would be a slave, and so he killed him. Killed him before he knew what he might know, and then in panic made a slave of you. And you've been his slave."

Louis denies that and Claudia says.

"No, slave," she persisted in her grave monotone, as though thinking aloud, the words revelations, pieces of a puzzle. "And I shall free us both".

Now admittedly, I have not read IWTV the book. All I have is what others have posted on social media. Maybe my thoughts will change after reading it for myself.

But I think as far as an adaption goes, the show writers had to get us to this moment. And they had to fit the entire arc (Claudia being turned, happy families, things falling apart, murder as the solution) into 3 episodes.

What I find interesting from all the posts I've read from book readers about Lestat's actions in IWTV, is that they'll follow up all the evidence with, "But he said he loves them and that he would not harm him in [insert book here]!"

Why do we have to take his perspective as gospel? I know most people will say that Anne Rice said he's view is the correct one but still. No one denies that Lestat trapped Louis by turning Claudia and threatened to destroy Louis and Claudia if they stepped out of line. It's not a question that Lestat and Louis fought multiple times. With that in mind, why is the logical conclusion that Lestat's threats to hurt them are empty? If the threat was going to work, Louis and Claudia would have had to believe that he could and would harm them.

Additionally, the show made changes to the characters and since they didn't do the easy thing and treat those changes as window dress, those changes had to change the journey to reach the same landmarks in the book.

Claudia in a 14 year old body can do a lot more than Claudia in a 5 year old body can. But both find themselves trapped. When Lestat threatens to destroy her on the show, it's enough to make her go back (and that's saying a lot because she already left and was going to leave again in spite of what happened her first time out) because we've already seen not only how powerful Lestat is, but that he's able to wield that power against his family/fledglings.

This is already pretty long, but I again, long story short, I think when you look at the show in retrospect, the choices make sense to me and were done to serve the larger story instead of a shocking moment for buzz and nothing else. It feels like the writers made a deliberate choice based on their view of the characters from the books and their opinions on what the changes they made to characters would mean (this interview with episode 5's writer is interesting). I'm just not convinced that the differences that people are pointing out between the novel and the show are actually that different at the end of the day.

[bitter69uk]

“There is no obvious motive for Jane Russell’s charming churlishness on screen; it was often gratuitous, more than the script called for or than the director, I should think, would allow. It would seem, then, natural. But it wasn’t; according to her book, to her TV talk show appearances and to Arthur Bell, who had lunch with her, she was plain Jane in the best sense, a friendly foul-mouthed pious Christian. I can only theorize that she regarded the picture business as so shitty, as it were – and it arguably was and is – that she felt she should act accordingly.” / Deviant queer film critic Boyd McDonald (1925 - 1993) enthusing about one of his favourite subjects - surly and statuesque actress and singer Jane Russell - in his volume Cruising the Movies: A Sexual Guide to Oldies on TV (1985) / Born on this day: mean, moody and magnificent leading lady of the forties and fifties (and Playtex cross-your-heart bra spokesmodel), Jane Russell (21 June 1921 - 28 February 2011). I particularly treasure Russell’s screen partnerships with film noir tough guy Robert Mitchum, who matched her for tough wry humour and impudence. (They were buddies offscreen: Mitchum called her “an authentic original”). If you only know Russell as Marilyn Monroe’s wisecracking pal in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953), her filmography is studded with gems like His Kind of Woman (1951), Macao (1952) and her magnum opus, The Revolt of Mamie Stover (1956). But I even love her in lesser efforts like Hot Blood (1956) and The Fuzzy Pink Nightgown (1957) (and I’ve yet to see the intriguing-sounding The Las Vegas Story (1952) or Foxfire (1955)). Not that Russell herself was impressed. “I got little artistic satisfaction from my work,” she confessed in her 1985 autobiography. “I was definitely a victim of Hollywood typecasting.” Pictured: portrait of Russell by George Hurrell, 1946.

[stramberrycheesecake]

C’est hyper drôle, aujourd’hui c’était la journée de la loose😭

En mode on était allé la pote et moi au ciné et de un je suis sorti avant pour aller acheter un collier à ma mère mais le magasin était fermé 😞

Car ça fait presque la première fois en 20 ans qu’elle fête son anniversaire en Chine donc je veux lui faire plaisir

Mais du coup le trajet en tram état extrêmement long j’ai cru que j’allais y passer et ma pote et moi on devait de rejoindre à midi devant le métro. J’arrive vers midi 20 et je l’a vois pas.

Ensuite j’aide une dame à trouver et son bus et on discute et tout puis ensuite y’a un mec qui vient me voir , son téléphone à la main pour me demander le bus, je lui réponds et ensuite il demande mon âge, je lui réponds 12 (j’en ai pas 12, je vous rassure, c’est juste que je suis plutôt petite pour mon âge (😞) et que je voulais pas lui dire la vérité, parce que de base je dis toujours plus que mon âge et la bas j’avais grave pas confiance)

Et après il me dit ah ok, j’en ai 22 moi , je rigole gêné et puis ensuite par pure panique je dit "T’as vote aujourd’hui ou pas?" Il me dit oui, je lui demande pour qui il me dit qu’il sait pas et me demande pote qui j’ai voté (alors que j’ai dis 12ans, bref) je lui dit nfp et il dit pareil (je sais pertinemment qu’il ment, il a juste pas voté)

Et puis après il me dit quelque chose je comprends pas je lui demande de répéter, et là je comprends qu’il me demande si je veux me poser avec lui avec un verre

J’AI DIT QUE J’AVAIS 12 ANS ET LUI A 22ANS

bref, je dis non et que j’ai une amie que j’attends et qu’on doit aller au ciné et il me dit okay et va se poser et il se retourne toute les 5 secondes pour me fixer avec un sourire bizarre

Et depuis tout ce temps il y a le bus 220 qui est devant nous, ouvert, et dès que le bus ferme, il se rue vers le bus pour demander la porte

ÇA VEUT DIRE QU’IL EST RESTÉ JUSTE POUR ME PARLER

Et il entre dans le bus et vraiment il me fait aurevoir à travers la fenêtre comme dans yn film d’horreur

Quand je vous dit que j’ai toujours eu des problèmes avec les hommes

Ensuite déjà, ma pote arrive et pareil, elle est en retard car son bus prenait 40 min à arriver 💀

On prend le métro, on arrive et on voit un vélo payant, on le prend et on fait la route, elle roule et moi je suis assise sur la roue arrière ( je sais pas faire du vélo 😞)

Ensuite on arrive au musée et on s’achète nos billets pour un film au hasard parce que de base on voulais regarder Napoléon mais le film durait 8h💀

Et puis ensuite on va se prendre des chocolats chauds quand la machine, on prend et puis après on va se poser dehors et ma pote décide de vouloir reprendre quelque chose.

Je prend un café vanille et elle prend un cappuccino, le vers se coince et au final le cappuccino est ultra amer, elle jette et prend un café vanille pareil, et la le verre se coince complètement et y’a même pas de boisson, elle part 1€

Ensuite on sort et elle essaye de m’apprendre le vélo, je fais que de tomber et de me faire mal

So après on regarde le film et je vous le dit, 2h de pure ennui, j’ai limite fais que de dormir c’était horrible, c’était ennuyant à souhait mon dieu, plus jamais, c’était ignoble

Et puis après on part et on reprend le vélo pour aller acheter un panini et je m’assois littéralement dans le panier💀

Bref et on passe et tout, je descends et j’achète mon panini et elle sa crêpe à 3€ avec un billet de 50€😭

Puis elle reprend le vélo et la le vélo est tellement lourd qu’il tombe sur elle et elle évite de justesse de s’éclater la gueule, bref ensuite on y va parce qu’elle a trop honte

On mange et en rigolant je crache dans sans faire exprès quelques bouts de mon panini😞

Après on faut la chasse des velib et on cherche et tout, on demande à une dame de nous donner le sien elle nous recale sec. Ensuite on passe notre temps sur les velib coincé et on découvre qu’on peut en avoir un gratuitement avec notre navigo et bon ça marche pas😞

Bref ensuite la ligne 6 était bloqué du coup on a dû faire un graaaand tour

Apres j’ai goûté du bissap et a la la c’est délicieux purée j’adore encore s’il vous plaît