#like that super black paint. it’s like the lights are sucking up all the light and leaving you to act in front of no one at all

[withasideofshakespeare]

We all know I shouldn’t be allowed to make Tumblr posts after 1 AM, but here we go again… This has been in my brain for so long so now I am going to ramble about it (shoutout to the Hamlet Discord server for joining in the Thinking)

Surveillance Hamlet!!!

(Or, rather, the theme of surveillance in Hamlet and some fun and exciting ways I’d like to see it portrayed on stage assuming this mythical theater program has unlimited money)

(Warning- this thought is undercooked. This is going to get rambly…)

Surveillance is a major theme in Hamlet. Nearly everyone in the play engages in some kind of spying or scheming or is the victim thereof (or both). I love plays as a medium for the fact that each individual performance has the opportunity to completely change which themes get the most emphasis and surveillance is a theme I’d love to see take center stage with Hamlet specifically!

Hamlet is a pretty meta play. It ends with a message on the act of storytelling within the specific context of the story the audience has just watched just after it calls out the “mutes and audience” to the ultimate tragedy for their inaction during the runtime of the play. It’s also been performed and adapted plenty of times with a modern lens. Grief, depression, existential anxiety, and gay people are, apparently, universal pieces of the human experience, but if anything looms larger than ever over today’s society, it’s surveillance. Hell, I’m typing this on a device that is for sure selling my data to the government and probably also scam artists! So give me a performance where extreme surveillance heightens all the other aspects of the play, where Hamlet’s paranoia is exceedingly justified.

First, choose a good venue. Outdoor theater is almost always my favorite, but in this case, choose a massive indoor theater with a movie theater style sound system. Hang massive screens above the stage like you’d see at a big concert.

Now, these actors are going to be doing some major method acting. Put cameras above the stage at all angles. Put cameras in the wings. Put cameras on the crew. Put cameras in the audience- maybe some employee plants instructed to stream the show to the screens from their view or even to obnoxiously take photos and video throughout the show. No matter where these actors go, so long as they’re in character, there’s a camera on them. Put mics everywhere too, so even low whispers are heard from the backrow.

I want this play to start with an attempt at secrecy. The ghost appears, Hamlet begs his friends not to speak of it, but he can hear his whispers echoing right back to him and he knows it’s useless. The curiously missing line where Marcellus, Horatio, and Barnardo do finally swear upon Hamlet’s sword isn’t implied to be there as usual. It doesn’t exist. The ghost is only “satiated” by the coming of dawn, even this first, simple wish remains unfulfilled.

Hamlet spends the end of act 1 wavering between a genuine breakdown and an acted portrayal of madness. Pretending shields him from showing legitimate emotion on those screens.

To be or not to be is performed offstage, but on camera. Hamlet seems to think for a moment that he’s truly alone or perhaps it’s all part of the facade. Either way, emotion gets the best of him eventually and he realizes he can’t escape the cameras (or mortality). He comes on stage for get thee to a nunnery, frantically trying to get away from his ever-echoing voice, only to find a spotlight on him. The lines come across as cruel as they are pathetic. Ophelia is also being watched. Ophelia didn’t decide alone to speak to him. In some ways, she has far less privacy than he does, but Hamlet isn’t looking for solidarity in the watched. He wants to be alone. He wants to not be seen.

When he stabs Polonius, Ros & Guil track him down on the cameras. There’s no need to run, but he tries.

The only time Hamlet is truly outside of surveillance is on the ship to England (and then with the sailors who return him to Denmark). Maybe Claudius doesn’t want the world to know he has sent the prince to be executed, but it is clear that he too has lost any real control of this surveillance system. You saw him praying. Or was it a publicity stunt? Hamlet returns and simply tells Horatio (and by proxy, you) what happened on the ship, maybe resentfully. The only time he gets privacy, he doesn’t need it.

By the final scene, he no longer wants not to be seen. He isn’t sure you see him at all. No, you mutes and audience look right through him as if you know infinitely more than him, as if he hasn’t proven that he knows he is a sparrow that will fall. But you know the lines and he doesn’t.

He asks Horatio to tell his story. Maybe there’s something personal about being told a story rather than watching one play out. Maybe you can’t look through a storyteller.

Hamlet canonically knows he’s being watched. He uncovers Ros & Guil’s spy mission in the span of minutes, kills Polonius in the act of spying on him, and comes to mistrust the people around him because almost no one seems to be genuine with him (besides horatio). But it’s not just the characters, it’s the audience. In his darkest moments, he looks out for just a second, almost begging for help, only to discover that no one is coming to his aid. When he tries to exit, the spotlight follows him and so do the cameras. It’s inescapable. When he delivers the “mutes and audience” line, it should be as accusatory as it is pleading. You, the audience, have seen his life projected on massive screens, you’ve heard his every word and whisper, you know him, don’t you? Yes, you know him better than his closest friends. He’s spilled his soul to you because he knows you can’t be escaped, that you, rows upon rows of darkness to this actor blinded by spotlights, are always watching. Will you help? he asks, one final time. The answer is an obvious no, not because you’re heartless but because that’s not why you’re here. You’re here to see a play.

#hamlet #shakespeare #SURVEILLANCE HAMLET!!! #what does this mean? you tell me #I’ve been in one stage play ever #and what I remember most is the lights #they’re so bright that the audience becomes a mass of darkness #like that super black paint. it’s like the lights are sucking up all the light and leaving you to act in front of no one at all #I was also an audio technician for a musical #I checked our mics and the soliloquy I used was actually to be or not to be #there was something very different about hearing that raw emotion echo right back at me #anyway #maybe we’re the metaphorical government spying on our phones right now or maybe we’re death or just the general unknown #or maybe not #I came up with bits and pieces of this and never reached any conclusions on what it would actually mean if I did the play like this #the budget version is asking the audience to bring binoculars #that’s all I’ve got #can you tell I watched the Jacob Geller infinity video?

[historianthesecond]

hi!!!!! i was wondering if you could do a nikolai/reader fic that is similar to the rain scene (or, frankly, i'd be good with any scene) from the notebook:

the reader and nikolai had young summer love, then were separated for a long time, but both kept writing letters for years that were intercepted and never recieved. it all leads up to the angry/yearning argument in the rain where they say it still "isn't over" and some not-so safe for work activities follow.

again, just using the scene as a general guide but it doesn't have to be super similar. (hope that was at least somewhat cohesive and you know what I'm talking about. sorry for the rambling, i've just had this idea for so long and am super excited about it lol) tysm!!! <3

Hi! AAAAAAAA I'm so sorry I'm just answering this ask 😭😭 adult life sucks but anyway. I rewatched the movie now that you reminded me of that scene and yeah 1000% worthy it. I hope you like it! :D

I cut this fic in two parts, because the next one is going to be NSFW, so y'all can read the fluffly part without the filth 🥺👉👈 also because my smut scenes are so long for some reason, and it gets hard to edit 🤡

For All Those Memories We Tuck Away;

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader-----3K-----SFW

Tags: Childhood Friends| Childhood Sweethearts| Love Confession| Light Angst, Mostly Fluff| A pinch of Yearning| It gets horny at the end but not too much so don't worry|

It had always been strange; like a thread that tugged down his heart every time he sensed your presence; familiar footsteps echoing in the hallways, chirping voices flowing through an open window as you walked toward the palace’s entrance.

Nikolai swept his gaze around the ballroom, catching a flash of your hair moving between a myriad of swirling bodies, your figure walking away from where he was talking with one Kerch merchant and his insisting wife that was trying to drag him toward one of their daughters, who was eagerly waiting for a dancing partner.

When he was younger, a childish part of him imagined that perhaps it was that both your hearts were linked by a thread, like the folktales about soulmates.

Now it would have been more of a coincidence.

He raised his empty glass of wine, playing with the delicate stem between his fingers. “If you’d excuse me,” Nikolai said once the merchant stopped talking to take a breath. “I’m afraid my feet are sore today; I wouldn’t wish to give a bad impression to your lovely daughter.” His hands gestured away toward the table filled with pastries and desserts. “I’ll go fetch another drink. In the meantime, please enjoy.”

Nikolai slipped between the crowd before someone could grab him back by the arm, his neck tilted upwards to scan the room, wishing to see another glimpse of you, or else, he’d thought it was a fantasy.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he imagined you, hoping to see you walking in the courtyard again, lounging in the garden, near the fountain, hands busy as you braid a flower crown. Bumping into you in a corner of the hallway, with your eyes lost in the flicking details of the sunlight reflecting in the decorations of the palace’s walls.

Just a painted reverie, hidden, ruined beneath layers of regrets and missteps overlayed over the decade that set you both apart. Grey and brown with the marks of ash and mud from the battlefield, streams of black ink dripping from crumbled paper’s edges, messy calligraphy from writing down on his knees. Streaks of green and blue of the open sea and the bright sky, the white of the paper replaced by maps and sails.

Nikolai forgot you, or so he pretended. Another distant memory of the past, from those fleeting moments when he felt happier, lighter as he bathed in the soft sound of your laugh.

He trailed down the path he saw you slipping into before, the longing sound of your giggle reverberating in a corner of the ballroom, frozen in all those occasions Nikolai had cracked a silly joke. Only that this time, he wasn’t the one amusing you.

His steps halted, jaw stiffened at the thought of him peeking out into the exit staircase only to see you chatting with another nobleman to which you'd surely be already engaged, if not married.

Curiosity will always take the best of him because he couldn't just walk away. For the first time in years, you were so close—only a door away, almost—but to him felt as if an unsurmountable abyss had opened in the marble floor.

His hand took the handle, turning it slightly. Cold wind blew in the hallway from the open entrance gates. He saw the rosewood hues of your skirt over the steps, your back mid-turned toward him as you waved goodbye to the Count’s only daughter.

Like a spring, your eyes settled on him before he could even conceal his staring.

Not like he could, of course, his eyes hoping to take you in every detail, as if that way Nikolai could engrave you, this new you, with your adult features, into his mind forever.

You looked away; the moment so fleeting that the Count’s daughter didn’t even notice. “Promise you’ll come to my tea party on Thursday?” she was saying, already crossing the entrance threshold.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied with a chuckle, steps elegantly descending the stairs when your friend left, your body disappearing from his view as you tried to put as much distance as possible.

Nikolai opened his mouth, but for the first time in so long, words just wouldn’t come out. He darted down the stairs as he did when he was a boy—good thing nobody was looking at this unroyal attitude—, his boots muffled by the carpet.

Saying your name brought a strange sensation in his mouth, like a prayer gone awry. It echoed in the stillness of the foyer; and he repeated it, louder this time. "Wait!"

From the direction toward the former Queen’s gardens, your silhouette flicked between the shadows and glinting gold from the dusk reflected in the canopy, your back still turned toward him, shoulders slightly hunched.

Nikolai breathed your name, voice so low he thought he imagined it, his hand hovering on empty air as if trying to reach you, to gather the courage and jump the evident rift that set you apart.

You looked from above your shoulder. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

He stood there, mid-hallway, hands clenched in a futile attempt to appear calm. "You came."

From the myriad of invitations sent, he didn’t even waste energy in imagining you would assist at the ball, not when you had missed his coronation ceremony months ago.

“Elena told me I can’t hide from the King of Rakva forever," you said, settling on the corner against the wall, the wind carrying away the essence of summer flowers in Plein bloom. "It brings a bad reputation upon our house."

Elena, your sister-in-law. Nikolai had heard of your mother's passing during times of the civil war, but up until that moment, he never remembered before to at least send his condolences, even if your mother was never a fan of his despite his endless charm.

Nikolai doubted his mother the Queen would have confessed to yours the real nature of his real relationship to the Lantsov bloodline, no matter how close the two seemed to be, but your mother had given you your sharp wit. It wouldn't be so far-fetched for her to have to guess it on her own.

He walked toward you, eyes gazing at your hands, bare fingers. You noticed, hiding them behind your back in a swift movement.

“Would you like to come with me on a walk through the garden?” Nikolai said, his arm extended toward you. “I would be honored to have your company.” After so long, he wished to say, but couldn’t. It could have sounded like a reproach, and he didn’t wish to bare laid that hurtful part of him that was convinced of your oblivion.

You met his gaze, observing his smile that tried to be charming only to notice the slight tremor on his lips.

“I can’t deny a request from Your Majesty,” you replied, stomach fluttering as if you hadn’t matured at all when you grazed your hand on his arm.

“Then I should have sent to your residence a marriage proposal instead of the invitation for a ball,” Nikolai found himself saying, the words escaping before he could think of the consequences. A result of the old times, he supposed.

You feigned a chuckle. “Your Majesty is very funny.” Like always, hung on the charged air between you two.

“I’m flattered. Though it has its downsides, as you can observe. People usually assume I’m joking.” He observed the way your footsteps guided you down the path, barely an afterthought as your graze hand poked the flowers in bloom, your brows slightly pinched in focus as if you were arranging flower decorations in your head.  “When I’m not.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, lips in a neutral line. “Unless you’re still engaged to that gentleman... Mr. Komary?”

You gazed away, cheeks hot from embarrassment. It wasn’t a secret that the only reason you weren’t engaged ever since you were children was because of your mother and her terrible way with lies.

Instead of telling the former Queen that she wasn’t interested in marrying her only daughter to a possible bastard, she had told her that you were already promised to a kid in the Wandering Isle. Family so discreetly that nobody could get a hold of his existence.

“I’m just here because it would be good to make acquaintance with the future queen,” you replied, your tone very monotone, eyes drawn in a far part of the garden, on white walls covered with vines, violet flowers like trumpets contrasting vividly against the marble. “I would like to honor my mother’s place as lady-in-waiting.”

It shouldn't have hurt this much, thinking that Nikolai had assumed the same ever since years ago. But it did, like the ghost of his first shooting wound, right in the chest. Seemingly mortal, though not really.

The sky was getting darker, clouds hiding the last rays of sunlight as the cold wind blew between the bushes, whispering a clatter of remembrances of two happy children laying on the grass and of giggling teenagers running away from the guards, heading toward the lake with the tail of your dress half-smoked thanks to one of Nikolai’s new inventions.

“And what about us?” Nikolai said because he had learned to play all his cards, to seize every opportunity. “Have you considered it’s better not to keep our promise?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut in, your lips curved in a sour smile. “We were just kids back then. You can move on.”

“Have you move on?” he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

You didn’t answered, so he stopped in the middle of the cobblestone path despite the drizzle starting to soak into his jacket, your hand falling limp at your side. “I’ve always thought that kids’ love is the most unconditional kind.” His eyes warmed you from the cold rain starting to embed on your skin. “Don’t you think so?”

You felt a familiar knot in your throat, hoping that he couldn't see the red on the whites of your eyes.

“You forgot about me,” you said in a whisper, scared that if you talked too loud, your voice would break. “You never wrote to me—you can’t say that. You have no right!” you shouted, embarrassed for your outburst when in your mind everything was already settled.

Nikolai furrowed, his hair starting to stick to his forehead. “I wrote you for months—so much I got a bump on my finger.”

You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “You’d always have that bump,” you replied. “You write too forcefully, that’s why you can’t draw.”

He copied your stance. “I draw my inventions’ blueprints quite masterfully, in case you don’t remember.”

You scrunched your nose like a bunny, and despite his irritation, Nikolai had the urge to lean in and kiss you, knowing that your pout would disappear. “I mean artistically. You could never draw me.”

Nikolai couldn’t stop the smile from escaping his lips. "Perhaps we should give it another try," he said, his hand touching your chin, his eyes drawn to yours. “Sitting in that big red velvet chair with uncomfortable rest, chin up to stop the crown from slipping out your pretty head.”

“My hands would get too clammy from holding the orb and the scepter," you said from memory. “The orb would fall from my hands, and I would get indebted to the royal family forever.”

“The King wouldn’t mind,” he assured you. “He has a soft spot for you, I’ve heard. Always have,” Nikolai muttered, crooning his neck down toward you.

He could feel the warmth of your skin, the sweet essence of your hair that had become more citric than floral, and the way your eyes traveled from his eyes to his lips.

“I wrote you about each dusk I could see without buildings covering the view, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last,” he said in a mutter despite the rain surrounding you. “About how I dreamt of you, imagining that you lulled me with that little song you liked to hum when you were bored—to keep the nightmares away. How the fields covered in dandelions and sunflowers remembered me of you." He chuckled a strained sound. "How can you believe I never write you? You've sieged my mind ever since I have memory of our first encounter. Everything calls back to you.”

He rummaged inside the inner pocket of his jacket, getting out a tiny, disheveled pony figure between his fingers. It had been once white with black hair, a blue saddle decorated with painted daisies. But time had worn it out, brown spots of the wood peeking between the paint.

The silly but sincere gift of a young girl. Your favorite miniature horse toy to accompany him on the battlefield, just as his gift would stay with you on those slow nights of study in the emptiness of your bedroom.

"How could I ever forget you when you're always near my heart?" Nikolai muttered, passing a thumb around your cheek, feeling the warmth of your tears against the pad of his finger. “How could I let you go when this isn’t over for me?”

You smiled, your trembling finger passing through the figurine. “That’s Pearl.” From between the pocket hidden in your skirts, you produced a wooden soldier with its broken rifle—from that time Nikolai toppled it off from his balcony.

“You still have my little friend,” he said in a whisper that was meant to be a chuckle, but now strained.

“I couldn’t throw him away,” you muttered, barely holding back a sob. “He would feel very lonely.”

A lonely soldier that had become a lonely king.

Nikolai enveloped you into his arms, pushing you against a wall to alleviate the force of the raindrops all over your soaked hair; lips hungrily seeking yours to try and make up for the time he had spent imagining how a kiss from you would feel if it would taste like wine and chocolate pastries you had been eaten at the party. You gasped into his mouth, and for a second, he thought you'd push him away.

But instead, your arms hung around his neck, and he started swaying you from side to side as you cried against his chest. “Saints… I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry, Kolya,” you said, voice muffled against his soaked coat. “I should’ve tried harder. I shouldn’t have believed Mother about your lack of letters. I’m sorry.”

His laughter rumbled on his chest down your cheeks, which made you smile despite your teary eyes.

“We were both very foolish and young to know any better,” Nikolai drew circles on your back. “A clear sign that we’re a perfect match, don’t you agree?”

"I thought a King ought to be wise," you couldn't stop teasing him.

He nudged you closer. “That’s why I need a Queen like you at my side, my lovely.” Nikolai kissed you again, convinced he wouldn’t get tired of it. Because how could he? It was one of his dreams coming true. “What do you say? Should I duel Mr. Komary? I’m an outstanding swordsman. An excellent shot.”

You smiled, hands brushing away the locks that had started to cover his eyes. “Good to know you’re as humble as ever.”

Nikolai winked. “Just another one of my long list of qualities.”

“I don’t think my brother would say no to you if you propose,” you said between the rumble of thunder in the distance, refuged between his warm arms. “Hypothetically, Ally would love to have an excuse to visit your workshop.”

“Only hypothetically, of course. I would be delighted to show him around.” He smiled. “Is he still interested in terrestrial transportation? I'm sure I can convince you to look elsewhere, like up, maybe.”

“You’re more excited to see my brother,” you feigned an offended pout. “Perhaps you should marry him instead?”

Nikolai shook his head, stealing a kiss from your lips as he chuckled. “I couldn’t win a duel against Lady Elena. She’s a scary one.”

“And I’m not?” you said, trying to push him away when the cold of the wall stuck to the wet bodice of the dress.

“I’m sorry, my flower, but no.” He took one of your legs up, so you could tangle them around his waist, allowing him to dip his head lower and kiss you even more. “You’re like a bunny. My adorable bunny.”

“Bunnies bite,” you replied after your round of kisses was over, tiptoeing to nibble at his lower lip just for a moment.

He looked at you, eyes filled with both love and desire in the way they got framed by his lashes. “By all means, do it again,” he said, which made you laugh. One of his hands slipped on your bottom, and you yelped. “But not here. Hold still.”

Nikolai walked back to the rain, both hands holding you closer to his chest as your legs hugged his waist.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered against his ear, arms around his neck as you bounced up and down with each one of his strides, trying to ignore the heat pooling down your stomach at feeling his warmth body through the wet layers of fabric.

"I'm carrying my beautiful fiancé to my chambers to dry her off, of course." The rain echoed on the roof of the private wing of the Grand Palace, and you couldn't stop from burying your head in the crook of his neck at seeing the guards flanking every other entrance. “I wouldn’t like her to end with a cough that could delay our wedding.”

You felt your cheeks hot despite the sudden trembles traveling down your body. “To your chambers? That’s very inappropriate.”

Nikolai kissed your cheek. “I don’t hear you complaining,” he said with a clear note of amusement in his voice. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” Another kiss, this one falling behind your ear. “I’ll make sure to warm you up whole, my lovely.”

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x you

[saturnsorbits]

Drop Dead

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Dub-Con(ish), Implied Murder, Sero is a little Mean, Degradation, Praise, Panty Theft, Panty Sniffing, Choking, Face Fucking, Boot Humping (For like a millisecond), Spanking, Ass Play, Breeding, Spit, Sero has a Jacob's Ladder. Word Count: 7.8k.

Summary: When you forget about your imaginary friend, he's forced to take matters into his own hands to make you come back to him.

-> Part of the 'Bump in the Night' Collab.

Make sure to check out the other incredibly talented authors through the link above and don't forget to leave a nice comment and reblog if you liked their work!

A/N: Full disclosure I kind of suck at writing horror/DC and this concept is super underdeveloped, but this was so much fun to play around with as part of my first, ever collab!

You're seven when you first meet Sero Hanta.

He appears over next doors fence, his fingers clinging to the edge of the wood as he searches the garden with curious eyes. The boy smiles. Scrambling on top of the fence, he balances precariously, feet barely fitting onto the broad top of the post. He's tall for his age, with a mop of black hair that is cut into an awkward bowl around his head and a crooked smile he'll never grow into. 'Psst.'

Your eyes snap up instantly. 'You've got something in your hair.'

His eyes cross, black iris' trained on the tip of his nose. 'Where?'

You giggle at his antics, apple cheeks glowing in the low light that streams through the branches of the near-by blossom tree. Standing, you creep towards the fence and reach up, tip-toeing with all your might with an outstretched hand.

The boy bends, perching awkwardly to lower himself enough for you to pluck a small slither of a petal from his fringe and offer it back out for him to take. Your fingers brush.

There's sunshine in your stomach as you retreat back towards the tree and tilt your head, watching as the newcomer tips forward and lands, softly, in your garden.

Shyness is the most forefront things on his face, beside his too-large smile, but he manages to summon the confidence to puff up his chest and declare: 'I'm Sero Hanta.'

You giggle.

'And...' He takes your hand and grins, lopsided and sweet. 'We're gonna be together forever.'

Returning his smile, you squeeze your fingers around his palm. That, you think, doesn't sound like a bad idea.

From the window of your house, a few yards away your mother wrings her hands until her knuckles crack.

'What'cha looking at?' Your father wraps his arms around her waist and presses a soft kiss to the turn of her neck, but despite his touch, she doesn't relax.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up and tug as she watches you beyond the glass. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, voice shaking as she mumbles: 'Who's she talking to?'

Coming home has been strange.

The walls are bare, but still painted the colour of your youth. The carpets too, are just how you remember, but there's no sign of the furniture dents that should be littering them. There are no pictures hung, no cups left in the cupboards, no shoes littering the porch or trinkets left on the mantelpiece. This might be the home that you grew up in, but standing in it now: it's little more than just a house.

No wonder your parents upped and left – moving away while you where left with the cold, empty shell of a family home with no-one to share it with.

Stood at the back door, the smell of smoke almost makes your eyes water as you turn your attention to the small fire pit built up by the side of the house. Dark grey plumes float lazily from the flames, but soften by the second as they are carried away by the soft autumn breeze. Ignoring the weight settling in your stomach, you sigh and step out into the darkness.

At least the garden still looks the same.

The large blossom tree still stands, although now it's a few feet taller with twisted branches that stretch out and reach almost from fence to fence. At the base ivy has sprouted, twisting around the trunk and mapping out delicate patterns on its surface. Memories bubble in your mind, although one is far more notable than the others.

A boy: A friend.

You smile.

Something soft touches your knee. It's gentle, the kind of barely there touch you'd attribute to a bug or a passing flower seed, but it's gone too quick for you to tell. You shift, shivering, despite the warmth of the air, as you make your way over to the fire pit to douse the last of the flames.

Smoke leaps into the air. The hiss of sizzling water filling your ears as you step back and out of the way of the writhing ribbon. There's a burn in your lungs as you take your first breath, a hand coming up to covering your nose and mouth as you squint through the dim. Through the smoke, something moves. It's a subtle shift, a barely-there warping of the distance as a shadow lingers just beside the blossom tree. Narrowing your eyes, you can just make out the faint shape of a figure; but you're old enough now to know a trick of the light when you see one. Wetting your lips, you swallow the dryness from your mouth and return your attention to the dying fire.

A new something brushes your thigh, scratching at your skin enough to make you place your hand to the sensation to dull it's ache. There's a pressure, a tight – something – digging into you. Hissing, you swear you can feel the bitter dull crescents of short fingernails biting into your flesh. Your teeth stand on end, eyebrows furrowing as you stumble backwards and quickly tug down your jeans, searching your skin for a bruise, a mark, anything. There's no such thing there, the flesh from the joint of your hip to your knee perfectly clear and unmarked; despite the burning that refuses to relinquish its grip.

Over the fence, the neighbors outdoor light clicks on scattering fluorescence across the branches of the blossom tree. You look up, half expecting to see the shadow again, larger or more imposing, but the new light highlights the trunk, effectively exposing the emptiness that lingers behind.

Chuckling to yourself, you huff hot air into the night. Exhaling the breath until your lungs burn, you watch the cloud that drifts from your mouth join with the dying slithers of smoke. It takes another ten minutes before the fire has died out enough for you to venture back inside. There are no more glowing embers, just the reminence of blackened wood by the time you're slipping through the French doors back into the house. Tiredness seeps into your bones, even with only one foot over the threshold, the warm night air slowly loosening its grip on you as you glance over your shoulder to give the garden one final look.

The darkness behind the blossom tree shifts again. The unmistakable outline of a person sharpening by the second, no longer banished by the glow of the neighbours light.

You must be more stressed than you thought. Ignoring the shivers that break out along the track of your spine, pulling each small hair there to attention, you click shut the door and close your eyes.

When you open them again, the shadow is still there.

Only now, you swear you can see it smiling.

It takes longer than you'd like to admit for you to finally stop staring at the shadow and make your way upstairs. You'll check in the morning, sooth yourself by discovering whatever is casting the odd silhouette. It's just your mind after all. Some odd concoction of stress and change has mixed inside of you and made you jumpy, conjuring things out of nothingness.

The stairs creek as you totter up them, clinging to the bannister as you go. With the edges of your vision fuzzy from fatigue, it's easier not to focus on the thought of the shadow in the garden as you cross the landing and slip into your bedroom. Stripping, you leave each item of clothing piled where it falls. Your jeans are abandoned just inside the door, your underwear close behind as you toss your shirt off somewhere near your wardrobe.

Landing on all fours, your crawl, naked, over your mattress and tuck yourself in, hauling the duvet up and around your neck. Your limbs begin to unlock as you start to calm. Your body relaxes, sinking, until finally, you're lost to the darkness.

Black eyes.

They're like coal, or the shiny backs of lawn beetles – blinking slow in the recesses of your unconsciousness.

He looks familiar.

Like someone you've forgotten.

A face you should know and yet...

His hand wraps around your throat, lithe fingers pressing as his rings clink. Each metal band taps against it's neighbour, anxiously announcing each of his movements as he opens his palm and squeezes.

There's a whimper in your throat, one he silences will dull pressure. You can't breathe, but you don't struggle – you're not sure you want to.

The lilt of his voice brings a shiver out in your skin, your nerves singing a song you'd thought they'd forgotten as you scramble, desperately in search of a memory that evades you.

'Shh, sweetheart.' He whispers, leaning in close, his tongue peaking out from behind his lips as if he's dying to taste you, but not quite able to indulge the temptation, not just yet. 'Just wait a little longer... You'll remember me again soon.'

You wake up wet.

There's a stickiness between your thighs, tacking your skin as you shift your hips. Reaching down, you brush your fingers through the damp and shiver. Your cunt pulses, clit twitching – sensitive through lack of attention. It makes you restless, illicits an itch under your skin you know you won't be able to satiate on your own.

Huffing, you toss yourself back to the mattress.

The thought of getting up makes your bones ache, the dull throbbing in your cunt only cementing the idea that you should stay in bed; but the soft tapping of branches at your window denies you such luxury. The memory of the shadow looms in the back of your mind, refusing to let you rest.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you set about collecting your clothes from the floor. The cold of the room bites at you, viciously nipping at the exposed skin of your hips and thighs – the warmth of yesterdays autumn sun long since gone. You slip back into your bra and bend, snatching your jeans up. The material is rough when you turn it inside out, reaching into the crotch to find the underwear that should still be nestled inside of it. You pull back your hand, empty. Grabbing one of the legs, you shake them out, but nothing falls to the floor.

Something stirs in your stomach.

Outside the sun shines in through the window, but it's warmth doesn't reach your back as you dress. You roll your shoulders, stretching out the weariness that had made a home for itself inside of your stomach and sigh.

At first, you don't register the soft pants as anything more than the wind. It's a distant noise, soft as it manages to float up from outside and permeate through the glass, sinking into your ears.

You pause.

'Fuck... S'good.'

Swallowing, you try and steady yourself before slowly creeping over to your bedroom window.

Sat at the base of the tree, his legs splayed out in front of him, is a man.

You gasp.

The bowl cut has gone, replaced with inky locks that are tied up into a messy bun revealing the freshly shaved undercut at the back of his neck. Thin wisps have slipped the bobble, falling to frame his face.

Your mind spins, careening helplessly out of control. Knuckles whitening as you grip at the edge of the windowsill, you try and ground yourself; but all attempts prove fruitless when you look down onto your childhood imaginary friend. Your reality tilts on its axis, tipping as you try desperately to cling to any semblance of normalcy.

The contents of your stomach churns as you deliberately keep your eyes trained on the ivy that seems to have clambered higher during the night. 'I – This... This isn't real.' You squeeze your eyes shut.

His head rocks back to rest against the bark of the blossom tree, exposing the plain of his throat and the bob of his Adams apple as he gulps. There's movement from his lips, a slight twitch that betrays him as the source of the noise as it builds louder at the back of his tongue. The bulk of his jeans are pooled at his hips, exposing the milkiness of his skin and the thick nest of black hair that trails down from his stomach to the heft of his cock.

The organ twitches as he runs a thumb over it's head, coating tan skin in sticky translucence. He's not so thick that his fingers can't encompass the girth, but his palm is wide and his fingers long, leaving any notable comparison impossible as he thrusts soft into his fist.

Shock roots you to the spot, but it's the inescapable pulse of your cunt that catches you off guard and refuses to let you look away. Your jaw tenses, your mind refusing the way your body reacts as you ripen so easily in the presence of his pleasure.

He's moaning now, openly and loud as his hand moves faster down his shaft. He makes three solid passes before you see it. There's a brightness between his fingers that stands out against the skin of his cock, but it isn't until he readjusts his grip that you catch sight of the intricate lace pattern and thin elastic band that can't be anything except your underwear. Another droplet of pre-cum rolls lazily over the material, soaking it.

'Oh, shit...'

It's his voice that finally unlocks your limbs, that quells the terror building in your stomach from his reappearance and replaces it with fury, even with arousal threatening to weaken your knees.

This can't be real?

Can it?

He isn't real, so surely...

Lifting his free hand, he releases himself for just long enough to peel the soaking lace away from his cock and ball it into his fist. For a moment, he just breathes, readjusting to the new slickness as his hand wraps around his shaft and squeezes. The rings on his fingers clink together in anticipation as he starts a new pace, taking care to sooth across the three thick piercings that run down his length. Covering his mouth with a palm, he presses your underwear to his face and inhales. His eyes roll, the musk of your slick and his pre-cum mixing as he slips his tongue from behind his lips to taste.

You rock on your feet, trying to ignore the way your cunt pulses. Still, you don't move, not even as you see his chest stutter, his hips thrusting harsher into his fist as he nears an obvious end.

His cock kicks, his head thumbing hard against the tree and ivy behind him, but as soon as he begins to cum, spilling thick and white over his hand – he locks eyes with you through the window. A lazy smile tugs at his lip as something dark and pleased swims in the depths of his eyes.

It makes you wetter.

Stepping back from the window, you try and shake yourself, but the warmth that had deposited itself in your stomach remains. There's a tangle of panic lodging inside your chest, twisting your organs up until you think you might throw up.

Nothing makes sense.

He's not.

He can't be.

Steadying your breathing, you press a hand to your chest to feel the violent hammering of your heart as you make for the bathroom. The walk feels like miles, despite barely being a few feet as the image of your once imaginary friend cumming with your stolen underwear pressed to his face repeats on you. You walk faster and all, but collapse against the sink when you reach the bathroom, bracing yourself against it with shaking arms.

You don't look in the mirror.

You should have.

'Look who's all grown up, huh?'

The fondness in his voice tickles your skin, bringing goosebumps out across the surface of your forearms. You bite hard on your lip and lock your jaw, scared you might scream as you slowly summon the courage to lift your head and peer into the mirror above the sink.

'Sero?'

He's older now, with a rakish air that does funny things to your stomach and thin limbs that as still a touch too long. There's a gauntness to his features like he's not been eating too well and a gentle purpling to the skin of his cheekbones that makes him look achingly tired, but his smile is the same and so are his eyes. You could never forget those eyes. 'You – you're, but you're -.'

A chuckle escapes his throat as he leans lazily against the door frame to your bedroom. He looks remarkably put together, considering his earlier occupation in the garden, with his arms folded across his chest and his signature crooked grin fixed to his lips. 'Yeah.'

Your underwear is still in his pocket.

You can see it peaking out from his jacket, soiled and glistening. The pressure inside your head reaches a peak, pressing painfully against your skull and making your head spin. 'You – You.' You swallow, scared to speak the words. 'You're not real – you're...'

Sero pouts, straightening up from the door frame. 'Did that make it easier?'

Your eyebrows furrow, mouth dropping open as you scramble to pick up the pieces of your sanity. 'W-what?'

'… Did it make it easier?' He steps forward, huffing air out of his nose. The dark of his iris' shine, even in the dim of the hallway making it impossible to tell where he's looking as he all but devours you with a stare. 'You abandoned me, remember? Threw me away and forgot about me...'

'I -.'

He's not finished. Snorting, Sero blinks slowly and shakes his head – almost like he's already decided that whatever you have to say isn't worth hearing. 'Do you know what happens when people like me are forgotten? How painful it is to slowly waste away knowing every day, the person you thought was your world remembers you a little less?'

Guilt kicks up in your stomach, forcing you to swallow around the new emotion. The idea of him having waited for you to return makes your chest tighten. It feels like you're a child again, sitting underneath the blossom tree all those years ago. 'But -.'

'S'why I had to get rid of them...'

His voice is low, so low you almost don't hear it.

'Had to get you back somehow.'

You're shaking, your nails digging into the fleshy parts of your elbows to keep yourself from shattering. You feel like a stuck record, but you can't digest the presence of him in your hallway – the boy you'd grown up with, the one you'd thought into existence... The one you'd abandoned and never bothered to return for. Vomit claws its way up your throat. 'You're imaginary.'

'Oh, sweetheart...' He purrs. 'If I was imaginary, would I be able to do this?' He steps closer and wraps a palm around your throat. His fingers test your skin, reposition and squeeze as if he's trying to prove just how real he is. ‘Would an imaginary friend be able to choke you? Huh?’ Dipping his head he noses at your neck.

There's a heat in your cheeks when you feel his breath ghost over your skin. It makes you shiver, refusing your attempts at denial as you feel a heat bubbling in your stomach. His hand around your throat is firm and yet, delicate – the rings you'd heard clink as he fisted himself rattling together, proucing metallic music that makes you drip helplessly into your underwear.

He breathes again you and grins. 'Would an imaginary friend be able to fuck you senseless?’

It's like he reads your mind, making you whimper as an odd mix of terror and arousal combine in your stomach. It makes you tremble.

'I think I've just decided how you can make it up to me.' Sero licks at his lips, running his tongue across his teeth. 'Think you owe me that much, don't you, sweetheart?'

Your head spins as you reach for an explanation, but come up empty. There is no way that the man in front of you with his hand wrapped around your throat is real, but there is no way to deny the way your entire body seems to melt into him. Whimpering, you lift a hand to wrap around his wrist and squeeze. You don't trust yourself to speak, unsure of what will come trickling out of your mouth with your body so readily betraying you.

He laughs, the noise burning the back of his throat. Moving his other hand from his side, he cups your jaw and presses a thumb to your bottom lip. 'What do you say? It's the least you could do after everything you've done.'

You want to pull away, want to wrench yourself from his grip and sink to the floor, screaming until the world begins to make sense again. You inhale, sucking air through your teeth, but the word that slips through your lips comes as a surprise. 'Please...' You don't know how you mean it. If it's a plea or a beg, but it trips off of your tongue almost too easily, making your eyes widen.

'That's it.' Sero leans in close and knocks his nose against yours. 'Gonna fuck you until the only thing you can remember is me... Never gonna forget me again when I'm finished.'

You shiver at the insinuation, but are powerless as your jaw drops and his lips press to yours. The first kiss is soft, a gentle pressing as if he's testing out just how corporeal he is. He tilts your head, his hand still curled around your throat as the other wraps around the back of your neck and guides you exactly how he wants you.

Your hands fall to his chest, small palms resting over his pecs as you're given no choice but to kiss him back. He kisses you breathless, devouring you in a way that promises more. Heat pools in your stomach, the confusion and panic melting, drifting to the back of your mind as you become lost to Sero's touch as his hands begin to wonder.

His grip loosens from your throat, moving until two large palms are resting on your shoulders. The tips of his fingers dig in, pressing enough for your to gasp into his mouth, allowing him to slip in his tongue and taste you. The kissing makes you dizzy, steals your oxygen and has you helpless, a mere puppet in his hands as the pressure on your shoulders increases and you're sent sinking to your knees.

'There...' Reaching for you, Sero curls a hand around your chin. 'Look at you.' His other hand fiddles with his belt, the metal clicking against his fingers as he unbuckles it and sets about slipping his jeans down his thighs. Underneath, the black of his boxers is already stained. A large wet patch clear on the material, marking out the tip of his cock.

You blink and bite your lip. From this distance you can smell him. It makes your mouth water and your eyes widen, iris's swelling as you peer up through your eyelashes at him.

'Take it out then.' He mumbles, thumb running over your lip. Reaching out, your fingers slip under the elastic of his boxers and pull.

He hisses when his cock finally springs free. It bobs in the air, supporting it's own weight as it weeps sticky translucence from the tip. The skin is dark, tanned and almost purpling at the head that peaks from his foreskin. A thick vein runs along the underside, pulsing softly as it weaves through the set of three bar-bells buried into his flesh. Wrapping a palm around it's base, he gives himself a singular tug to smooth his shaft before he's cocking an eyebrow and biting at his lip. 'S'not for staring at, Sweetheart.'

You swallow, but lurch forward to catch yourself with a hand against his thigh. The other curls around his cock as you lean in and press the softest of kisses to his tip.

'That ain't gonna do, Sweetheart. C'mon...' Covering your hand with his, he smears his cock against your lips making them sheen. His jaw jumps, the feel of your lips against his skin already sending sparks down his spine as he juts his hips back to tap cock against your cheek.

You flinch at the first impact, but it just makes him chuckle as you try to stop your eyes from fluttering shut with each, harder tap. The third is hard enough to make your jaw drop, a gasp leaping from your lungs as you reach for him for stability and dig your nails into his thigh.

'Good girl, open up...' His thumb presses to the flat of your tongue, encouraging it out of your mouth until he can press down and let spit gather. The way you look now, all glossy eyed and pretty on your knees for him makes something violent swirl in his stomach. He smirks, moving his thumb just enough to rest his cock on your tongue.

The first thing that hits you is his taste. A mixture of salty sweetness slips down the back of your throat making you swallow, but you're barely given time to adjust before his hips are pressing forward and pushing his cock further into your mouth. You suck instinctively, hollowing out your cheeks as best you can as he sinks into you.

'Shit.' Hissing through his teeth, he smooths a hand over your cheek to feel the way it bulges before you swallow around him and send his head rolling back onto his shoulders. 'Look at what a little guilt can do, huh?' His hands move, both of them lacing together at the back of your neck as his words stutter. 'Let's see how much you can take...'

You're about to protest, about to tell him to slow down and not give you so much, but whatever complaint you were about to lodge is shoved to the back of his throat as he begins to fuck your face viciously. The bars of his jacob's ladder run over your tongue tasting metallic and making the muscle dip under them as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

A groan rumbles in his chest as your throat opens for him. He's stopped paying attention to the small wretches that bubble up from you as he uses your mouth, there's no point after all. It's not like it's going to stop him. He deserves this after everything you've done.

There's a thin stream of spit leaking from your mouth from were his cock is forcing your mouth open and the edges of your eyes have grown wet with unshed tears as you hold on, keeping your throat open for him – desperate to please. You don't know what's keeping the terror that still swirls in your chest at bay, but as his cock threatens to choke you, you find yourself unable to focus on it.

'Fuck, sweetheart. S'like your throat was made for me...'

The grip he has on your neck lets him move you to his pace, pulling you down onto him as much as he thrusts up into you. The movement makes you nauseous, but there's no denying the way your stomach churns as his moans grow louder and louder. His balls hit your chin, slapping heavily against your chin as you release one of this thighs to drop your hand to your own pants, frantically trying to wiggle your fingers underneath the waistband.

'Ah, ah, ah.' Sero's voice is laced with malice as he pulls back until just the tip of his cock is nestled on your tongue. He lifts his foot, placing the sole of a heavy combat boot on top of your hand making you yelp. 'You don't deserve to touch yourself, do you?'

There's something disappointed in Sero's tone, something that makes your chest stutter as you peer up at him and whine soft in lieu of an apology. Pulling your hand back, you place it back against his thigh and tangle your fingers in the rolls of his jeans, tugging his hips closer again.

'Who would have thought you'd turn into such a needy little whore, huh? So desperate for my cock, aren't you baby. S'pathetic, really.' Chuckling, he presses down harder with the toe of his boot and grinds it against your cunt.

Desperation simmers in your stomach. Something that had started out as terror is transforming, laced with the fondness and a new sense of guilt. Rolling your hips, you almost cry when your clit presses just right to the seam of your jeans and the pressure of his boot sending shock waves of violent pleasure down your spine.

'Dirty bitch, humping my fucking boot.'

You shouldn't like it. You shouldn't. Shame reaches for you, tries to wrestle back your control, but you're already too lost. You have to make it up to him after all. Already his skin looks brighter, more tanned and clear – the bags under his eyes non-existent as you devote all your attention to him just like he wants. Like he's always wanted. Rolling your hips, you catch yourself against his boot again and again, climbing towards your high before his cock is pulled from your mouth.

'Shit.' Sero's hand wraps tight around the base of his cock, squeezing tight as it kicks and twitches in his palm. His skin drips with a mixture of your spit and his pre-cum, making him shine and glitter as he tries to stop the rising pleasure that is threatening to be his end.

You stay sat on your knees, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath again. Every nerve in your body is on fire, burning with anticipation as he meets your gaze again. His eyes are black holes, causing faint memories to prick at your skin of a too tight pressure and an impromptu end, but before anything has chance to take hold you're being hauled to your feet.

'Gotta fuck you... Shit – gotta have you now. Okay.' Dragging you in for a kiss, his cock presses between your bodies as his hands fall to your hips. There's something new in his touch now, something dangerous as he messily shucks himself out of clothes and drags you into the bedroom.

Tossing you back against the bed, you barely bounce twice before two large hands are grabbing at your waist and flipping you over onto your stomach. Slipping his palms around your hips, he brushes his thumbs over your curves before hauling you up onto your knees. Your jeans are all, but torn from your body and tossed aside, but his patients runs out at your underwear, causing him to tear the seat to allow him access to his prize.

He takes your ass in his hands and spreads you open, his thumbs catching either side of your lips to allow him to see the way your hole quivers around nothing. Your skin is shiny, the evidence of your wetness startling as he drags a finger through your folds. 'Liked me using you, did you, Sweetheart?'

The moan that floats from your mouth is muffled by the bedding, your cheek pressing to the mattress as you arc high for him. He hums. Placing a soft kiss to the round of your ass, he dips his head low enough to bite.

'Sero.' You flinch, the sensation of his teeth raking across your flesh causing you to writhe, but the two large hands on your hips stop you from getting very far. It dawns on you then, just how powerless you are. Once upon a time, you'd be able to dispel him with nothing more than a wave of your hand, but it's more than obvious that nothing like that is going to work now. Now... You're nothing more than his toy.

The next thing he places on your skin is a kiss. A the base of your tail bone, his lips part, leaving a stickiness behind as his tongue peaks from his mouth to lick a long stripe right up your spine. He moans as the taste of your skin explodes on his tongue. The sensation is overwhelming, making his hips twitch as he imagines all the other beautiful touches he'll be able to steal from you.

You feel the wetness gather in your cunt. It's a flood, an uneasy heat that makes your clit itch and has you begging for his touch. Your mind swims. The longer he touches you for, the more you're convinced you owe it to him – that it's your fault he's here now, taking what he's owed and you, you moan when he teeth latch onto your ear gently... You're more than willing to give him it.

'Such a pretty whore... You're gonna make me feel good, aren't you? You aren't good for anything, but making me feel good.' He sits up on his haunches, stripping the rest of your clothes from your body, before returning his attention to your ass. He spanks you once. 'I asked you a question, pretty girl. You think after forgetting me for all these years, you can just go back to ignoring me?'

'No...' You wiggle your hips and earn yourself another slap, this one hard enough to sting. It makes you moan, your spine arcing somehow further as your cunt drips slick onto the sheets below. Need bubbles inside of you, but you're determined to be good, to let him use you like he wants and take what is owed. Swallowing spit, you breathe slow. 'No, don't – don't want to ignore you any more. Want -.'

'Yeah?'

Another smack.

'What do you want, Sweetheart?'

'Want you to use me.'

'And what do you say? Or does my pretty whore need reminding of her manners?'

'P -.' The next smack takes the air from your lungs. Your ass is raw, the skin tingling where his palm still rubs at your flesh. 'Please.'

'Good girl...' There's a smile in his voice as he leans down to press a series of soft kisses onto your neck before ducking to speak into your ear. 'Gonna make sure you don't forget, make sure you can never forget again.'

His weight vanishes from your back, allowing you to turn and crane your neck. Behind you, he kneels, his hands once again spreading you wide as he slowly strokes his fingers through your folds. He deliberately avoids your clit, giving you enough sensation to make your stomach tighten, but not enough to stoke the embers already crackling inside of you.

The moment his thumb taps against your clit, you gift him with the prettiest of noises. It makes his cock bob, desperate to be buried inside of you and yet, he refuses himself, continuing instead to stroke and pet your soaking folds.

'Sero... Sero, please.' Reaching behind you, you try and grab at him. Try and force him to give you more, give you anything that will quell the burning of your nerves, but he avoids you easily.

Wrapping a hand around your arm, he pins it behind you back, holding your wrist tight to stop your squirming as a dark chuckle is released from his throat. 'Desperate sluts don't get what they want.'

The stretch of your shoulder isn't so much painful as it is debilitating. Without your arm, you're forced to crush yourself to the mattress, unable to hold yourself up at all as Sero begins to add pressure and pin you down. Panic and pleasure blend in your stomach, your cunt pulsing as your heart hammers, sending confused signals to your brain. 'S – sorry. Sorry, I – Just....'

'Shush, sweetheart.' He coo's, condescending as he slowly sinks a single finger into your cunt. 'I know, I know you want to be good, don't you, baby?'

'Yeah. Wanna be good for you.' You're babbling. Babbling with a single finger pumping slowly in and out of your cunt. Your eyes roll in the back of your head as anticipation overflows making you nothing more than something for Sero to reclaim.

The noises that spill from your lips earn you another finger as he feels his own patience wear thin. He's been dreaming about your cunt since the day he decided to lure you back home, the day he decided that he was done sitting around, starving without your belief to feed him. Now, he thinks as he adds a third finger, stretching you wide as you pulse and flutter helplessly around him, he'll make sure he'll never be forgotten again. As soon as he feels you relax he pulls his fingers back and lands another loud smack against your ass when you whine with his absence.

'Please...' You're strung so high you think you might snap at any moment. He had been diligent with his fingers, thorough in his stretching while deliberately missing the sponginess of your G-spot. 'I need – Need you, Han – Hanta.'

'Oh... So you do remember my first name, huh?' He kisses your ass, letting his teeth scratch again at the flesh. Already there's a dull bruise forming from his last bite. He rubs a thumb across it. Then, wrapping a hand around his cock, he lines himself up with your fluttering entrance and taps his cock against your clit.

'Oh, fuck...' Your body writhes despite him still pinning you to the bed. His cock carves you out, forcing your body to submit to his as he sinks into you and bottoms out in one go. It's electrifying to be so helpless, to be held still and used while knowing that the man behind you needs you to survive. It's your belief after all, isn't it. It's you that gives him his existence and yet, here and now... It's more than obvious that you hold little of the power.

'So tight...' Sero moans. He fucks you quick and hard, his balls slapping against your clit as the bar-bells in his cock massage your walls. His hand kneads at your hips and ass, administering the odd slap to make you clench around him. 'So good for me, sweetheart. You're – fuck, it's like you made me to fuck you, huh?'

It's not enough and too much all at once. Your cunt pulses, gripping him as he hammers into you. The tension in your stomach is already taught, making your skin feel alight. You're not sure you can take much more, your orgasm already quickly approaching and yet, as if sensing your nearing end, Sero's pace slows. The blunt head of his cock begins to fall short, missing the spot inside of you that makes you see static.

Lifting his spare hand, he pulls at your ass cheek, exposing your puckered hole. The pad of his thumb brushes against it, poking just enough for you to feel, but not enough to sink into your entrance. He tuts.

'No.' You wriggle. 'Please, no, that's dirty – don't -.'

He ignores you. Instead, the he lifts his thumb and sucks it into his mouth before replacing it back on your hole and pressing in. He sinks to the first knuckle before chuckling. 'Told you – you're not gonna forget me.'

You hear it before you feel it, the sound of him hollowing his cheeks before he spits on your asshole and uses the excess liquid to slip further inside. Having you stretched around his thumb makes you tighter, forces your cunt to cling to his cock in a way that has his thighs shaking.

It's like nothing you've ever felt before. The stretch of his thumb burns, but not enough that the pleasure of his cock still carving you out doesn't mask it. Your body is wired, forced still and yet, vibrating with energy as he bares down on your arm to keep you still.

'So good – fuck...' Losing himself, he fucks you harder. His hips feel ready to bruise, his body calling for him to stop, but each burning muscle spurns him on. It reminds him he's real, more real than he's been in too many years and he'll be damned if he's going to lose that feeling any time soon. Forcing his hips flush with yours, he angles himself and sinks his thumb a little deeper into your ass until he begins to feel the tell tale tension of your cunt increase. He feels crazed. A mad-man chasing his prize as he feels your body slowly, slowly begin to give.

'Hanta.' You're panting. Pleasure rises through you and makes you burn as your entire body begins to tense. Your eyes flutter shut, cunt pulsing and milking him as you're tossed head first into the most intense orgasm of your life. The air in your lung turns stale, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as he fucks you through it, not content with the series of babbled moans that slip from your lips.

'Shit.' Pulling his thumb from your ass, he falls over you, pressing his chest to your back as he takes hold of your neck. His fingers press, cutting off at either side of your throat as he mindlessly chases his own release. 'Gonna – fuck – gonna -'

You whine and wriggle, reality coming back to you as the pressure in your stomach begins to build again. 'Not – not inside.'

He chuckles, but it's breathless. The hand on the back of your neck presses harder, keeping you pushed into the mattress as he rails you. 'Not inside...' He mocks. 'Sweetheart, I'mma breed you. Make sure you can never forget again, I promised, didn't I?'

You should struggle, but you don't have time. You whine, but before any words leave your tongue you feel it.

His cum is hot as he spills inside of you. His hips twitch, his balls pulling up and pulsing as sticky white fills you in thick lashes. 'Good girl...' Pulling out, his cock jumps still spilling across your ass and the back of your thighs marking you as his. 'Such a good girl for me.'

'Hanta.' Your voice is weak when you speak, raw from the moans that have torn from your chest. You twist, feeling your muscles complain, but it's worth it when you see him come down on his elbow beside you. 'H – Hanta.'

He looks good now: healthy. His hair is sweat-slicked, sticking to his head in places and there's a thin beading of sweat across the plain of his chest, but despite the exertion – he looks more like your Sero than he did before.

Tiredness pulls at you, making the edges of your vision blur as you let yourself wriggle closer to the warmth he offers.

Everything else feels cold.

You're so cold.

He reaches for you and wraps you up in his arms, pressing soft kisses to your temple. 'S'okay, Sweetheart. We've got each other now, yeah? You're not gonna forget again. Never gonna let you forget me.'

You awake to the tapping of the blossom tree on your window. Rolling over, you stretch, feeling the pleasant burn in your muscles as your reach out and search the bed beside you. Your palm pats at the mattress, searching for any signs of warmth as you seek out an arm, or the plain of Sero's chest... Only to come up with nothing. Peeling open your eyes, your glance around the room with panic rising in your throat.

He's gone.

The bed is made.

There's no stray clothes strewn across your floor.

You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing as you climb out of bed and slip into a housecoat. Each step brings with it a twinge, the subtle pull of over-used muscle that stops you from losing your mind as you tip-toe steadily down the stirs.

The last few days feel like a nightmare, one that you're not sure you've awoken from as reality and something else blend inside of your head. Wondering into the kitchen, you bury your hands in your pocket, fingers crossed, in the hopes that you'll see him, a shadow – anything to prove that he was real. Yet, when you look... There's nothing.

Standing tall, the blossom tree sways in the wind. It's petals are pale, withered against the blue of the sky. The ivy that had twisted around the trunk now covers it, squeezing and choking, wrapping itself around the trees limbs.

You lift your hand to your throat.

The doorbell rings.

Jumping, you turn staring headlong at the door as it rings...

… And rings.

There's knocking now, too. A loud fist banging against the wood.

'For fucks sake...' Bakugo's voice growls on the other side. There's the sound of rustling and the jingling of keys before one is shoved into the lock and the door swings open.

You tut and roll your eyes, tension suddenly evaporating from your body at the sight of your friend. You'd forgotten you'd given Bakugo and Kirishima a spare set of keys when you moved back, in case of emergencies you'd said. Although, you're not quite sure what makes this an emergency. 'Is everything okay?'

Bakugo ignores you, instead he dips into the living room before coming back out and striding into the kitchen straight past you.

'Hey.' You shout after him, following close on his heels as he stands in the middle of the tiled floor mumbling to himself. As you close in, you can see the redness around his eyes and hear the dull panic in his tone as he whispers: 'Where the fuck are you... Not you, fuck.'

'Bakugo, I'm -.'

He reaches for his phone and pins it to his ear. 'She's not here. I don't know if she even knows what happened to her mum and dad yet... Fuck, Kiri. I don't know what to do.' His voice cracks, fraying at the edges. 'What if she's done something stupid?'

'Bakugo!' You shout. Panic itches at your skin making you want to tear it off. You step forward, reaching to shake him, to shout, to so something to make him realise that you're there. 'Bakugo what happened to mum and dad – Bakugo!'

A hand touches your shoulder, the tell tale clink of metal rings settling into your ears as you turn to see Sero stood beside you. He wraps a hand around your waist and smiles, content for the first time in what feels like forever. 'Oh, sweetheart.' He coos pressing a kiss to your temple. 'He can't see you. You're imaginary.'

-> Collab Masterlist -> Blog Masterlist

#sero x reader smut #sero x reader #Sero Hanta smut #Sero Hanta x reader smut #tw: dub-con #bump in the night collab 🖤🐈‍⬛🔪 #saturnsscribbles #saturnsorbits

[bluephoric]

ridiculously long list of larry johnson hcs because fuck you he doesnt get enough love

Tw for depressing ass shit

- larry is a tired clumsy airhead, and as a result he always has SOMETHING spilled, wiped, or drawn on his clothes.

- undiagnosed adhd, and probably a few other things

- both him and sal collect bottlecaps, they like to make pins out of cool ones they find, often trading them like pokemon cards. they have multiple matching friendship ones. on common ones though, he likes to flatten and paint.

- larry's mental health generally sucks, but when things get really bad he stops caring about his physical safety, often pulling some reckless shit. even when he gets hurt from it, he doesnt seem to mind. Times like these kinda scare him, and he tries to avoid falling into them.

- despite seemingly "not caring about anything" (as he puts it) during these episodes, he's still fiercely protective of his friends and tries to be gentle with them, both physically and emotionally.

- callused hands, fingers yellowed from smoking.

- big fan of gas stations when he's high, practically raids that shit. one of his nicknames is "stoner jesus"

- he's openly bisexual and flirts with random people for fun. its usually something light. dorky pickup lines, stupid puns.. he Never expects it to be shot back at him but on the rare occasion it happens, he turns into a giggling mess.

- he actually pissed off travis even worse a few times with it, I could go into it further but this isnt a larvis post so i'll spare you all. For now.

- his favorite horror movies are the funny ones

- he isnt much of a drinker, mostly around holidays and just to get a little buzzed. spiked eggnog and fireball are his go-to's. Drunk christmas karaoke is one of his favorite things (he's constantly giving sal secondhand embarrassment). 2 words, mariah carrey.

- For awhile he genuinely tried to be a good student but because he was so far behind and his undiagnosed adhd, the teachers started to demonize him. Eventually he realized it didnt matter how hard he tried, so he just gave up. The only subject he likes is art, so that's where he focuses all his energy and actually tries.

- skips school sometimes but lisa tends to give him hell for it so he tries not to do it too often, mostly just skips certain classes if hes really not feeling it.

- almost always comes to school high

- his room is such a mess. sal tries to help him with it but he has similar struggles. whenever ash or todd come over, it becomes a group effort and shit gets done rather quickly. luckily no biohazards, so its not like his room really needs a DEEP clean but still. its nice.

- larry fucking LOVES jack black movies, also stupid stoner movies.

- Loves the arcade too, You'd think his favorite would be guitar hero, but that's more for sal. his favorite is mortal combat or those car racing games that you sit in with the steering wheel.

- larry cant cook for shit, hes always burning something, it always turns out gross and inedible. unless he's stoned, in which case he magically turns into a michelin star chef. weird ass combinations, but it always turns out really good.

- despite being shit at cooking, he still tries to help his mom with it, even though he mostly ends up just being in the way and she eventually shoos him out of the kitchen

- he smells super musky, with cheap cologne and the faint scent of weed

- when he was really little, he had a dinosaur onsie that he would wear everywhere, very rarely taking it off until it started to get too tight. he was beyond devastated when he realized he grew out of it, lisa had to pry it away from him in fear that he would accidentally destroy it. She keeps it in her closet collecting dust. Its one of the few things she kept from before jim disappeared. despite it bringing up memories of what things used to be like before he "left", she couldnt bear to throw it out.

- sometimes when larry needs comfort, he sneaks into her room and steals it temporarily. on sleepless nights, he zips it over his pillows as a makeshift pillowcase, its one of the few things that help him relax. It's always put back in place by the next morning. Lisa has no idea, and he's far too embarrassed about it to say anything to her.

- the only person who knows about this is sal because of their sleepovers. One night He was high as balls and got paranoid, when he tried to sleep it off the fear was just too much so away he crept, into lisa's room. Of course he made sal come with him, he sure as shit wasnt going alone.

- when questioned about it, larry refused to answer and so sal let it go figuring he would tell him when he was ready.

- Larry Harbors an obscene amount of guilt. struggles with sh off and on, tries not to relapse unless things get really unbearable. to prevent this, him and the SF gang (primarily ash) regularly doodle and sometimes paint on the places he's prone to harm.

- when he can feel himself slipping into an episode, larry makes it a point to braid his hair so it won't get matted. tries to brush it and rebraid it at least once a week, but often struggles to find the energy and lets it sit in for longer. Not to mention, a lot of the times he stops showering which makes it even harder to braid because of the greasiness.

- has given himself a few amateur stick and pokes. They look like shit, and he knows it but he's still very proud of them.

- the ink he uses for it fades pretty fast

- he's also tried to give himself piercings, but always fucks it up so he takes them out and slaps a bandaid over it

- collects different kinds of flavored chapstick, takes a bite out of them sometimes when he thinks no one is looking (ofc sal has caught him a few times but has never said anything)

- after he first met megan, he was scared shitless. slept with the lights on for the next few weeks and refused to shut the door when going to the bathroom, insisting to his mom on keeping the shower curtain open at all times (he tried to act chill about it around sal and it kinda worked. kinda.) after awhile he eventually calmed down but still finds himself getting really nervous whenever him and sal talk to a ghost, though he would never admit it.

- has a picture of his dad in a locket but rarely wears it because he's afraid he'll accidentally break it. always keeps it with him though, usually in his pocket, holding it as he walks.

- Despite his general demeanor he's quite the gentleman, always holding doors open and really courteous towards women. Most people don't expect it just based on his appearance, but Lisa raised him right.

- also he's hot as fuck.

- we all know larry is a metalhead, but what kind of metal is his favorite? It generally depends on his mood but id say sludge, thrash, and doom.

- You're telling me this man, who is depressed as fuck and also a stoner wouldnt eat up some electric wizard? saint vitus? bitch, please. I know quite a few albums that would bring him to his knees.

- And I know I'm prolly gonna get hate for this but I notice when a lot of other people write about larry (AND sal), they tend to lean towards nu metal or just plain emo. And while I don't think either of them would mind it, The lyrics and vocals of Sanity's fall feels more reminiscent of death or black metal and given the fact that SF is his favorite band, I don't think he would listen to that kind of stuff, at least not on a regular basis. Ash on the other hand definitely would.

#sally face #larry johnson #the brainrot continues #live laugh steve gabry

[whorrorbellee]

A HIGHER POWER WILL RESTORE US TO SANITY

CHAPTER TWO

<3 warnings: drug use, addiction, drug addiction, alcoholics, sex addicts, sexual assault (not Eddie),power play, the act of thirteenth stepping( becoming involved with newly recovering addict),abuse, victimisation, reader hates herself, reader is suicidal,Gaslighting and manipulation

under 18's dni or ill sleep w your dad

Masterlist

Meetings suck ass. Eddie pretends to listen to his bandmates around him, he's smoking a cigarette in a nonsensically huge office that overlooks the city. There's no walls, just glass. He remembers sitting in the dirty LA office with his last manager, back when they had nude models framed on the wall, and snorted coke off the desk. He's come so far he's mediocre now. 

“Your last album hasn't reached the predicted sales, what happened?”

Eddie sighs, the others stay silent, Gareth would have spoken up, but he's not here anymore, he's an IT guy somewhere back home , fuck the label for dropping him and the others.

He shrugs, Harvey looks at him, he ironically dressed like a cowboy. Eddie thinks he looks stupid, like a southern oil tycoon or something. He's got one of those belts with a lighter in it.

“They don't like that I'm sober, I'm boring now, old news.” he ashes his cigarette in the green marble ashtray. “ They think I've found god or some shit?” he chuckles to himself.

“you need to show them you're still rock n roll, sleep around get kicked out of clubs, do something fucking bonkers, but not like deadly, worship satan or something”

“Yeah, I'm not gonna do that.”

“What if you did play girl, full page spread , talk about all your dirty little fantasies”

“maybe , idk it's like everything has been done before, i need a scandal but what? S;eep with someone? Get married ? everythings been done before.”

So Edddie sits in a coffee shop in the city and thinks, he's done the twelve steps, he's done community service, he’s clean. Now what, he doesn't know. 

He's got everything he's ever wanted. Is this when life feels pointless? Is this why stars kill themself. When money couldn't buy happiness it bought drugs and for sometime that made him happy. So what the fuck now?

Your mother sits and sips her blood red wine at the dinner, you pretend to eat but you're just moving food around your plate at this point, your fork scratches against the china plate, she winces.

“You smell of cigarettes, I thought you quit?” your mother brashly asks. 

“I um, my- my sponsor smokes” you answer quickly and smile. 

“Your sponsor ?, already.” her red lips move against each other.

“Yeah, he's like the only person that spoke to me tonight, so”

“Well i'm glad you're really trying, we’re so proud of you” your mother smiles, “aren't we dear” she turns to your father at the gigantic dinner table.

“Yes, yes very good” He nods his head robotically.

Hours later you're in your room on the soft black comforter, pure silence.You open a window and light a cigarette, you stare outside the window, pretty picturesque houses lined up in a row, all cream and white shades with blue shutters and magazine worthy flowers, you think of his truck and the scratches ruining the meticulous paint work, and they way he was unfathomed by your anger. You hand thumbs at the ten digits written down on a marlboro red carton from his truck.

Your mother takes you shopping the next day, something about her pure cashmere sweater being stretched. She buys overpriced band shirts for you, plaid skirts and dark dresses. You're surprised she letting you dress this way until she mutters something about tattoos tarnishing your classic looks, but you just grin to yourself.  

You play super metroid on your game boy until 4am while chain smoking cigarettes till you feel sick. You sleep in until 3pm, your mum shouts at you “get a life, get a job”

So your sitting in the back of a coffee shop dressed in your mothers more acceptable for your age,clothing (cigarette pants and a embroidered collar shirt)your tattoos are covered by the sleeves, but you don't think the twenty something manger will really care because she's wearing a ripped band shirt and gold nose ring sits in her perfect caramel skin, you've met people like her before, they're all the same. 

“I like your shirt” you smile.

“Oh you like a Corroded Coffin ?” she grins sipping her coffee, her teeth are pearly white, contrasted between her black cherry lipstick. 

“Yeah that album they put out huh?” you have no clue what you're talking about, but you lie anyway.

“Oh the b-sides? I wasn't that into it, ever since he went to rehab the music just feels off, is that just me?”

You think quickly “ oh yeah the old stuff is really good”

She nods “so have you got any experience? You'll be trained anyway and you seem really like cool, so you'll fit it, we have a lot of difficult customers who like want things a certain away, its the neighbourhood , rich fuckers” she pauses and covers her mouth in shock.

“Sorry, not very professional of me, we just need someone who's level headed.”

You nod “yeah i'm very calm, i hardly get angry at all” you laugh, shoulders rising. 

You definitely didn't key someone's truck this week.

“And I've made coffees before, I worked in a coffee shop at my uni for a bit so I can make a decent latte.” you smile again.

You're starting to think you're smiling too much, but you don't stop.

“Well, it's three dollars an hour, tips are shared at the end of the day, and it's part time, so like 20 hours a week, but opportunity to work overtime if you want. Oh and wear whatever you want just like, make sure it's black.” her hands move along the desk,”so fill in this form and um when can you start ?”

“I've got the job?” your eyes widened in disbelief,hesitant,

“If you want it!”

“YES! Yes, sorry. Thank you so much, and I can start as soon as possible.”

“Amazing, next week? Monday at 8am?”

“That sounds great, thank you so much, Renee”

It's an early morning in February,  the smell of a deep roast coffee hits your nostrils as the bell rings on the wooden door, there's an atmosphere that pulls you in. English folk music plays softly and freshly baked muffins whisper behind glass windows.You push your sunglasses over your head, the plastic hard against your head.

Three hours in and your lattes look less like a college student has haphazardly thrown ingredients in a pot. Your eyes scan around the shop, a sharp ache erupts through your chest as your eyes cling on to the back of a man. You've seen that shirt many times before and you wonder if he followed you. As he turns his face becomes unrecognisable and you realise he's just another guy. You smile, body melting into calmness as the coffee beans grind. 

The day is already halfway done and you're at break, slumping into the chair and drinking the seventh flat white for the day, you're so sure you're going to give yourself heart palpitations. 

Ben relaxes into the chair outside, it's next to the bins. You both nurse on a cigarette outside. 

“When are you working till?” he asked, he smooths back the thick lock of blonde hair that tumbles from his ear.

“Oh, urm four I think, you?”

“Yeah same,you wanna come to a thing tonight its just gonna be me and some others, maybe drinks?”

“I've got a thing at six but yeah i could come>” you nod and smile. 

“Back home then huh?” Eddie asks, he thinks you've been less brash this time, not that you've spoken much, Joan had been leading the conversation about her son's promising football career (he got off the bench), you've both just really sat there nodding at her.

“My coworker invited me to a lil get together to meet the others so i'm going to that” you smile you look excited.

‘They don't do drugs right? They're not gonna drink ?” he interrogates, wiping the crumbs off his hands from the donuts he brought in. He made a hard-hearted joke earlier about getting a sugar high, one person laughed.  

“They don't seem like they do, and I'm fine around drinkers, my mums always sipping on her wine, I'll be fine Eddie,” you reassure him, drawing in the harsh smoke, you both stand with your back against the brown/red bricks. Stained windows casting hues of red and yellow on your faces. You feel like a teenager, hanging out after curfew in a graveyard but the circumstances are contradictory, you're not smoking weed, you're talking about addiction.

‘I don't think you should go," he says plainly, all of a sudden it's like he’s towering over you.

"Well I'm going to go,it's not like I'm cancelling now “ you shrug at him, your lips smack together and you can taste the tartness of lipstick and cigarettes. 

“Your two months sober, something like this can get you off your path”

You exhale, “i'll be fine,it's not gonna hurt”  your arms wrap around your body, tucking your ripped striped sweater closer to you.

“ I don't think you should go,”

“You're not my dad, you don't get top pick and choose where i go and when” you temper,”Im an adult, ill be fucking fine”

“ I'm not your dad! i'm your sponsor, i've been down that road before i know what it's like”

“You don't get it”  your mouth gapes,“ you just don't fucking get it” you walk to your car and slam the door, he watches you drive off from his truck.

You think you're early, there's like two people sitting down on the brown leather sofa watching beavis and butthead on mtv, and Ben welcomes you with a smile.

“This is Travis and Harry, they are friendly I swear,” he beams.” do you want a drink? I've got beer?Vodka?” 

“Just a soda,thanks” you drop your bag by the door, there's incense burning on the table and posters line the walls, Metallica, Nirvana,sex pistols and jimi hendrix, their eyes follow you. 

You talk for a while about life, laugh over spilt drinks and funny quips. Solemn faced you watch Harry pull out a small baggie filled with white pills, you pretend not to stare. You think back at Eddie's warning. He shakes them and grins at his friend. They grin back.

“You want one?” Ben smirks at you, he swallows back the pill with the others. 

Your chest feels tight and hot and you shake your head no, excusing yourself to the bathroom, your forehead is clammy and you panic a little, one hour and you'll let yourself go you promise.

Small whispers amit from the Living room. ”so fucking boring” someone grunts and then a snicker of laughter.

Soon the room is tight with people, bodies sweat together as they dance and people spill wine on the beige carpet, you smoke a cigarette out of the window and people brush past you, clutching the bubbly drink you've had all night. 

You drink your soda and chat,it feels nice, nice to just be, you stare at Ben who sits on the sofa, he's incredibly high and you've been avoiding talking to him all night.Hes glued down and smiling you remember what it feels like to be where he is everything feels just calm. You stifle down your soda, it tastes medicinal, a white powdery substance sticks to the bottom of the glass. You look at Ben who grins at you eerily. 

The bastard spiked your drink.

Fifty minutes later you're lying on a bed somewhere in the apartment, it smells like cat piss, you're not sure if they own a cat, everything feels like it’s repeating itself and you're ready for someone to force pills down your throat and leave you outside,But they don't. You're not sure what you're on, it's definitely a downer as you're stuck to the bed, everything is weighing you down. You thumb the carton he gave you, you can't call your parents, if they found out it would be back to rehab for years, and then paying off a debt that just gets bigger and bigger. 

You gaze at the phone on the bedside table, it's shaped like a football and you move your arm to it.  You're surprised the call makes it through, it's getting harder to concentrate. The line picks up and you hear a sniffle through the phone.

“Eddie, mm i've done something really bad” your speech is slurred.

#90s au #eddie munson x reader #dark eddie munson #slightly older eddie #stranger things but not strange #rich reader #recovering addict au #stranger things x reader #heavy topics #famous eddie munson

[theslay3d]

hi can u make some percy x child of hades hc ??

Percy Jackson x Child of Hades!reader

Gender:Gender Neutral

Warnings: None i think

A/N ok so this is like my first head cannons that I've done so im sorry if this sucks. I might redo it one day when im better at it. Also wasn't sure if its supposed to be romantic but it is sorry.

+Starting this off with the fact he's lowkey scared of you at first. Not scared but like intimidated by your powers.

+Likee idk if you've seen the headcanon of Bianca being able to turn invisible but you can do that with your powers. Which freaks him out when you sneak up on him. 

+You also use that power to prank the Ares cabin with him. You're usually not one for pranks or anything but Percy always ends up talking you into it.

+As i said before he was a little intimidated at first cause you had this super scary glare on your face the whole time you met him. You didn't mean to it was just your natural face and you were kinda tired so. 

+You were also good with a sword which leads to lotsss of sparring sessions together. Which usually ends up with one of you hurt and having to go to the infirmary.

+You were also close with Annabeth which means you and her usually end up talking about all the stupid stuff Percy does which surprisingly doesn’t get him killed.

+I would say it's like a sun and moon relationship but you both are pretty dark. Percy can be happier sometimes but still it's more like Moon and Stars.

+He loves baking, especially his mom's baking so sometimes when he's missing her you'll shadow travel(takes lots of energy but worth it) to her house to get some of the stuff she baked for him. He's always so happy when he gets it his eyes light up like a puppy

+One time he really wanted to dye a streak of his hair blue but wanted you to also get a streak of color which ended up with both of you having a different streak of color in your hair. 

+You also use your powers to scare him a lot but it's usually after he scares you. 

+You guys also sneak out of camp to get pizza one time you tried to doordash it but that didn't end well.

+He's super nice to you also like at first I feel like it was definitely playful banter yet also a little enemies till you got to know each other more.

+You both definitely try to out power each other in battle like. Oh you're raising some dead people? Percy’s gonna make a little hurricane around him. It's all playful but you both compare how many monsters you killed after battle. 

+You like to read a lot. Most demigods do have dyslexia but you don't so you are able to read a lot without struggle. Percy always listens to your rants about the characters and the stuff going on with a smile on his face.

+He loves listening to your voice so if you are deeply interested in a topic he'll listen to you rant for hoursss. 

+You don't go outside much as you're not very social and lots of campers are kinda afraid of you but Percy will encourage you to go outside and if you don't want to he’ll gladly stay in either one of your cabins and just watch movies or something. 

+If you're more of an affectionate person Percy's always there to hug you or hold hands whatever you want but if you're not he’ll wait for you to hold his hand or hug but he’ll usually always be locking pinkies with you.

+Skin care nights though. You both dedicate a night towards doing skin care and stuff especially if you've both had a rough week like him putting a face mask on you AHHH.

+Painting each other's nails omg. Percy usually has some sort of blue/green color on his nails and you'll usually have some sort of dark color especially black. Anyway i think that he will have his ring finger painted to the color you have on your nails and you'll have his color on your ring finger. Idc if this is cliche let me simp and die at this

+Matching bracelets is a yes you got him one with seashell charms and he got you one with skulls on it. I love matching couple things 

#percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #annabeth chase #child of hades #percy jackson and the olympians

[youremyonlyhope]

Hallmark’s Sense and Sensibility

Yes. YES. All I've ever wanted was an adaptation of Sense and Sensibility where Mr. Dashwood is white, Mary Dashwood is Black (or another race), so that the sisters are mixed and it causes even more tension between their older white half-brother and his wife.

As a mixed girl, I’ve been begging for this version of the story to be told.

I can't believe Hallmark is the one to do it, but I am ready and excited to watch.

Hmm... is Fanny mixed... is internalized racism going to be an issue for her too? If so, I am here for that.

Edward is Fanny's stepbrother... I don't think that was the case in the book. But I infamously hate Edward so maybe I just didn't pay close enough attention to him. (It's a change)

BONNETS. They have bonnets! They have natural hair (probably wigs but still, natural textures), and bonnets. I am actually super happy about the costuming so far.

Ok I might like this Edward... We'll see. We're not at the part where he makes me mad. But right now... he's ok.

"Right kind of woman" ok girl. Sure.

I really liked that scene between Mrs. Dashwood and Elinor, while Margaret played the pianoforte.

Oh Col. Brandon. Already smitten. I do have one complaint though: Mrs. Dashwood is supposed to be about 40, to make it so Col. Brandon being 35 offputs Marianne even more that he's close to her mother's age. But this Mrs. Dashwood (who I really really like so far) is being played as much older than 40.

YES CURLING RAGS. And am I crazy but are some of Marianne's clothes kind of leaning to wards 1820s transitionary styles? I sorta love that if that's the case.

OK Willoughby... ok. You cute. I love this "Who are you?" thing we got going on.

That painting of a Black man in Georgian-ish clothing. Someone remind me to look it up. I love the framing of this shot with Brandon and Willoughby, and the painting between them.

God I adore Mrs. Jennings. In generally but I really like this one.

God, fuck Willoughby. I always forget how much I hate him.

"A daughter." No no no you're supposed to say "natural daughter." Come on.

Oh poor Willoughby, what a coincidence he's called to London, while Brandon's already in London, dealing with an issue involving his "natural daughter." Such unlucky timing...

I can't wait to see Steele sisters. I hope their hair is blonde, so there's no doubt that the hair Edward has is NOT Elinor's. God. This is what I wanted from a S&S adaptation.

OOH the Miss Steeles are Black too! Ok. Ok. Fanny you absolute hypocrite.

OH MY GOD. THE PAINTING OF DIDO ELIZABETH BELLE IS IN THE BACKGROUND. Oh my god. I literally just squeaked. No random family would have that painting hanging, especially with the cousin cut out only showing Dido but STILL. And adding the fact that I once found an Amazon listing for an Austen novel using the cousin Elizabeth as the portrait and cutting out Dido (and also that the portrait is from 50 years earlier) made me so mad. This little easter egg of including Dido's portrait in this movie is like HEALING that specific moment's pain for me. Oh my god.

This adaptation, is far too good. It's so much better than I thought it would be.

Ah yes, the constant talk of "beau"s from Anne.

YES THE LOOP ON THE TRAIN.

This Lucy is diabolical. I don't think I remember her being so... almost mean. Annoying yes, but mean? Hmm...

Love all these Black paintings. I wonder if Juan will show up, though that's a Spanish painting not English.

Miss Jennings has white servants. Love it.

I think they made Robert worse.

"And I always keep my promises." You tell him. I thought I was going crazy earlier, that a song sounded kind of pop-ish. But they're playing Kiss From a Rose right now on a string quartet, so they're going full Bridgerton with this. I didn't want to accuse it earlier, but now I must.

Ugh. Willoughby.

MRS. FERRARS IS BLACK. FANNY YOU SUCK. You're giving us light skinned mixed girls a bad name.

Edward didn't want to be in the same room as his main and his side chick. I forgot about the Mortons. He's got 3 girls. This is why I dislike him. And I really think this movie ended up playing up Robert Ferrars' personality in a way I'm not sure I liked, he was always charming but I don't think he was this rude.

Ok Marianne. You're not wrong. But I don't remember that. It's been over a year since I last read S&S, I really need to brush up on it I guess.

Wasn't Eliza married to Brandon's brother and then cast aside? I really need to brush up. However, god I'm reminded of how much I love Austen.

Well I enjoy this Edward's embarrassment a lot.

Ooh Fanny. I don't like Lucy but do not call her a peasant.

Ok fine, point to Edward. I will concede that this adaptation is doing a good job of making the watcher feel for Edward. I still dislike him the most of all Austen husbands.

This is truly a great Elinor.

They've been so careful with having everyone in gloves. And now Edward is thanking Elinor, taking her hand, and no one is in gloves. I see you costume department, I see you.

Yessss loose hair moment.

Oh my god, I always love Col Brandon when he says he won't rest until he brings Mrs. Dashwood and Margaret. Every single adaptation. It makes me so emotional.

Wow ok. This version is a very good Edward, a very good Elinor, a very good Marianne, a very good Brandon. Even a very good Willoughby. I can't believe they really made me actually want to forgive Edward. I usually still am salty towards him by the end. That alone makes this pretty amazing.

Costumes were fun. A little bit crazy but honestly sometimes Austen adaptations don't go crazy enough with the costumes. Minus some fit issues with the empire waists (same issues that Bridgerton is plagued by) and some weird closures in the backs of some dresses, it was really well done costume wise.

And I was surprised that race was not as much of an issue as wealth, though I still think that Fanny and Mrs. Ferrars had some colorism issues in there.

Really my only issue with the movie is that they didn't make clear how old Brandon was compared to Marianne. And I have some concerns about Robert's characterization. That's really all I can complain about though.

Dare I say... that Hallmark somehow created... my new favorite Sense and Sensibility adaptation...

#sense and sensibility #hallmark #jane austen

[gorogues]

tricksterrune replied to your text post: Clearly he has a pair of dice in his fist, ready to fling them dramatically at the right opportunity

Oh yes, clearly!

aukisstic replied to your ask post: THANK YOU I hate the pride special so much…

Yeah, I just did not think that story was good at all.

demonbirdsforever replied to your ask post: See this is where I go… they were in other comics!? I missed those!🥺

The Rogues are in tons of issues (cumulatively), but not all those stories are great :>

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Not to be weird or anything but rn I actually feel like for Captain Boomerang, Knight Terrors Robin #1 or Suicide Squad Blaze as a whole are the worse than Suicide Squad v4

You're not being weird at all, but neither of those are canon. If I'd included non-canon stuff the list would have been really different lol, but in hindsight I should have made that clear.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Cuz Suicide Squad Blaze treated him like he was nothing more than a joke (and called him Captain Cultural Appropriation, which if we take Suicide Squad v4 #26 into account, where his mother is aboriginal, it feels like the writers just don’t know him), killed him off revealed that he was actually assaulted by whatever monster he was fighting and then killed him off for real.

Believe me, I agree that story was terrible :] It just didn't make the list because thankfully it's an AU.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: And then in Knight Terrors: Robin #1 like… I understand it’s supposed to be from Tim Drake’s perspective, but it really paints Captain Boomerang in a really bad light. Like he killed Jack Drake on purpose. When he didn’t even throw the boomerang until he was collapsing from 3 gunshot wounds to the chest.

Well, Digger did go there to kill Jack, but Identity Crisis was a terrible story anyway. I should have included it in my worst Digger stories list, and am not sure how I forgot. I'll add it with a note that it's a late addition.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Like… The beginning of Suicide Squad v4, yeah, I agree, they fucked over Digger big time, but at least it got better at the end, despite issue #26 also calling him Owen instead.

It's of course a very subjective matter (all best/worst lists are), but I just thought those comics were straight up edgy and terrible. I've never liked any Adam Glass or Ales Kot comics.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Suicide Squad v1 was also Not Great™ as a whole due to the use of slurs for aboriginal people within it. Issue 4 was the worst of those where on top of using a slur for an aboriginal person to a black man, he also said black people can’t be artists and tried agree with a Nazi and made the super racist statement that minorities commit the most petty crimes.

This is also subjective, and I get where you're coming from but I don't think they're bad comics. It's fine if you don't like it -- a lot of people don't like what was done with Digger in that series, and that's valid -- but I think it's a good series. It hasn't always aged well, but it's the reason the Suicide Squad concept exists to this day. The racism is tough to read, but Ostrander was making a point about the garbage Waller, Bronze Tiger, and Vixen have to fight through to do their jobs and just exist as Black people. It does suck for Rogue fans that Digger was chosen to be the problematic mouthpiece, though, so I understand why some people don't like it. I agree it was a very drastic swing from his pre-Crisis characterization, so I don't love that aspect either.

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Sorry, I have many thoughts on the true worst Captain Boomerang comic.

That's fine! :)

it-is-i-zim replied to your ask post: Also for Owen I’d argue for the Supergirl v5 comics. Cuz apparently that version of Supergirl that he’s not only rooming with, but is also trying to get with is 16. And he’s like… Literally an adult man. He literally called that version of Supergirl “jailbait” in one of the better comics of the bunch.

Yeah, I have mixed feelings on that series. It wasn't good, but unfortunately I think a lot of Owen's stories weren't great so to me it doesn't necessarily stand out. He's a good character who's been in a lot of mediocre stories…in part because a lot of DC's output was mediocre around that time.

demonbirdsforever replied to your text post: I read the Catwoman issues you recommended and now understand the kiss.

Hope you enjoyed it!

#tricksterrune #aukisstic #demonbirdsforever #it is i zim #it-is-i-zim #words

[hanasnx]

baking happens after you use all of your liquid and cream products. so foundation, concealer, cream, blush, etc.

(ex. cream blush would go before baking but powder blush can go after bc there’s no need to bake it)

baking is typically for full/heavier faces of makeup so it’s not a commonly used for makeup trends lately since they focus more on natural “no makeup” makeup. instead they use a light layer of setting powder (also used for making) or a pressed powder to set their face. it’s not even always used all over, sometimes just in my oily spots.

i personally just set under my eyes and use setting spray for the rest of my face because i hate looking too matte (but i do keep pressed powder on me when it’s hot out just to get rid of any oil that may show up throughout the day)

so baking doesn’t necessarily come after contour if the contour is powder, i’m p sure you can do it after. i’ll try to find a good tutorial but tiktoks search system is so fucked rn so give me some time.

https://www.ipsy.com/blog/baking-vs-setting-makeup

this is also a very good article explaining the difference between baking and regular setting. but i find a visual tutorial is always a little better.

you can do your base routine before or after eye makeup it’s really just a personal preference. i do mine before bc i have my go -to eye routine so on lock that i’m not concerned about fucking it up. i know a lot of professional make up artists do it first bc sometimes the way their eye makeup looks will dictate the placement of some parts of their base routine.

contour goes on the parts of your face where there are shadows. hollows of your cheeks, jawline, nose. i’ve been told to blend cheek contour upwards to make your face more sharp looking, and blend your jaw contour down to achieve that same effect.

bronzer (if you’re into that) would go on the parts of your face that the sun hit bc it’s supposed to warm you up. i tend to skip this step bc there aren’t a lot of cool toned bronzers.

idk if you put eyeshadow under your eyes too but i think it looks really nice. a small brush + blending it out just a bit under your waterline + eyeliner in your waterline!!! so good

i don’t have the right eyes for lashes (f in the chat for me) so i just really make sure my mascara is a good one. essence lash princess (the one with the green on it) is super affordable and very good. also maybelline has a shit time of popular and really good mascaras that are cheap as hell

pastes/pomades for brows are great, i use one regularly but i’m very light with my strokes bc i was once told i look like a villain if my brows are too bold. brow pencils are also great if you want preciseness

i also learned how to do my makeup through trial and error. a LOT of trial and error bc i A) suck at follow tutorials and B) didn’t have similar features to any of the people i was watching. so i just had to figure it out on my own so i really recommend that no matter what tutorials you watch A) adapt them to your face shape and B) continue using trial and error and explore your face and features on your own

i’ll be back with some vids if i can find any :)

idc about makeup trends rn with the whole "natural" "cleaner" look fuck that. i have a guy's face that needs to be painted over with gothic meets party girl makeup. thank you for explaining baking and for the blush bit. i typically don't use any blush at all and i don't see myself using it in the future, i've never been a fan of how it looks on me

the tip about keeping pressed powder on you for oily bits throughout the day, and the link are supremely helpful thank you smm

got it i'll skip the bronzer i didn't know if there was a cool toned version of it to use

i have like old mascara that i inherited from one of my sisters so ill prolly get a new one soon thank u for the tips, and for the eyebrows i have the clay/pomade like i told u but i got too light of a color so do that first and then i darken it with black eyeshadow and then i sharpen it using concealer which is what u saw in the pic. i think i could stand to make them darker bcos i like bold eyebrows but i guess it might make me look too masculine which would defeat the purpose of wearing the full face of makeup to warp those existing traits

the paragraph about learning through trial and error was literally what i've been doing my entire experience with makeup. no mainstream makeup looks ever complimented me and i wasnt rly going for a drag look bcos i'm trying to be a touch more subtle with it. the problem i was running into which drove me to ask the chat for tips is bcos im self taught that means a lot of stuff i don't know how to works or what to ask or the order etc so you've been extremely helpful on that front especially with building confidence so thank you

#indy shoots the shit #thanks for the msg!! #anon

[neon-green-reagent]

Vampire Films That Suck My Blood

But don’t SUCK. You know? What I mean? They’re good. Anyway. 

Let’s start with the super obvious ones you’ve probably seen. And if you haven’t, go see them, they’re classics. Near Dark (my personal favorite), The Lost Boys, Interview With The Vampire, Horror of Dracula (Hammer), ‘Salem’s Lot, Blacula, From Dusk Till Dawn, Let The Right One In, and Fright Night, by which I mean the one from the 80s. Now we can get into some deeper cuts. 

Night Owl | Filmed in black and white and set against the backdrop of the New York nightclub scene of the early 90s, this one is OOPS ALL VIBES. It’s full of house music and brutal murders. One of those films that feels intensely gay despite its best efforts to be straight. Very moody and arthouse. Obviously I recommend the hell out of this for a very specific crowd of people.

Pale Blood | What a nutso concept. A human is running around killing people in the style of a vampire. So a real vampire shows up to stop him. With Wings Hauser being super unhinged, as he tends to do. Lots of neon lighting that makes it all extremely 80s. And a neat little turn at the end that gives it a satisfying twist. 

Bliss | Vampirism as addiction. It’s been said, but this isn’t just about having an insatiable need. It’s about getting so goddamn high that you destroy everything around you and awaken from being blackout destructive and realize you’re ruining your own life. Pretty intense stuff. Meaning it’s very bloody and wild. It goes the extra mile, for certain. The main character is a painter, so there is also a super gorgeous painting that she creates in her very high moments that I wish I could have on my wall. 

The Night Flier | An adaptation of a Stephen King short story starring Miguel Ferrer, which I personally feel should be recommendation enough. But I’ll gladly keep going. Ferrer plays a tabloid journalist who is chasing after a serial killer who thinks he’s a vampire. THINKS, right? He just THINKS he is? Well, the deeper he goes, the more it looks like he has a real one on his hands. And he’s so fucking cynical that he’s probably going to stare into the abyss and the abyss will stare right back. 

30 Days of Night | Hey, I just recently rewatched this one. It still slaps. In Alaska, there are periods during the year where the sun doesn’t rise at all. In this case, a bunch of vampires are like SWEET. And go there and absolutely body slam everyone in town. A handful of survivors are left trying to defend themselves against these superhuman creatures that are... just the scariest looking fucking things. It looks like if a human were crossbred with a shark. What a LOOK. There are so many memorable and standout moments in this movie. Truly just watch it. 

Fright Night Part 2 | We all know the first movie. But the sequel tho. DAT SEQUEL. The big draw being Jerry’s sister Regine and her entourage of absolute characters that follow her everywhere. They’re out for revenge for the death of her brother, and suddenly the tables are turned. Charley becomes the one that can’t resist the vampire’s charms, and Regine is laughing all the way to the blood bank. She’s a queen. 

Vamp | Another intensely memorable and awesome female vampire. Grace Jones dominates the screen here as Katrina. A vampire stripper who kills when she mates. She for sure steals every scene she’s in, but the movie is also bombastically neon 80s with the dumbest and most fun sense of humor. It’s a charming movie with an amazing villainess. 

The Hunger | AND ANOTHER! Sorry for being so gay, but here’s a lesbian vampire movie. Miriam Blaylock is a vampire looking for love. And she both cares and doesn’t if that means eventually keeping your desiccated, still alive body in a box somewhere down the line. She’s a complicated lady. This was beautifully shot, very dream-like, and also stars David Bowie for some extra gay. 

Dracula (1979) | Genuinely my favorite version of Dracula. It was based off of a stage play version. Which means all the names are reversed and nothing lines up with the book, but Dracula just seems fated to be adapted very loosely. Frank Langella swaggers rather moodily through the piece, melting every woman he passes with a look. I like this take, that Dracula is just a Chad that no one can possibly outdo because no one is good looking enough to stop him. It’s all rather romantic and swoony while also featuring one of the most terrifying ghouls in cinema history. 

The Forsaken | Vampirism as an STD. If you’re bitten, you’ll battle daily with the virus that’s trying to consume you. Which makes the movie coded extremely queer, which is very fun for everyone, because it thankfully doesn’t stop there. The bad guys are super flamboyant and fun. The good guys are getting a little too involved with each other and sort of ignoring the girl sitting between them. And it makes one wish they could’ve just made it as gay as they wanted to, but the subtext is still very fun. It’s also action packed and exciting. Think 2001 version of Near Dark. 

#horror recs #vampire movies #vampires

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Character Profile Full name: Mitsuri Ashido-Sero

Pronunciation: Mit-zuri ASH-i-do se.ro

Meaning of Name: Mitsuri means "honey"

Hero/Villain Name: Bubble Gum

Nicknames: Honey-Bun, Suri, Mitsi

History of Nicknames: All gifted by her parents since birth so it kind of stuck

Nationality: Japanese-Hispanic

Quirk: Super-Glue: In which she can produce a large or small mass of a super sticky substance at will. When consuming it or letting it in your body system one way or another you will get negative effects such as headaches and stomach problems like when you eat real glue

Birthday and Astrology Sign: June 10th 21XX, Gemini

Age: 14

How old do they look: 14-16 Gender: Femimine Enby (she/they)

Orientation/Sexuality Preference: Pansexual

Birth date: June 10th

Birth place: Tokyo, Japan

Appearance: Eye color: Dark golden yellow with the right eye having a blackness instead of a normal eye

Eye shape: Round and wide

Do they wear contacts or glasses?: None Hair: Short curly dark pink hair

Height: 5'2

Weight: 90 lbs

Body build: Slightly chubby yet fit

Body shape: pear

Complexion: A ashy light pink

Cup size: D

Blood Type: AB

Handedness: Right handed

Hand type: Gentle hands

Nails: Short and clean with paint

Movement: Very flowy and bubbly

How do they walk: Very bubbly with a hop on her steps with her arms swinging

Posture: Straight and respectful

Flexibility: Decent

Speech Mannerisms: Tends to say "uh" a lot when she talks fast

Scars: None

Birthmarks: None

Piercings: Three on each ear

Tattoos: None

General face structure: Very cute with steady bone stricter like her mother but slightly sharper

Defining physical traits: Her horns and eye

Clothing: Uniform: She wears the UA girl uniform with pink or orange leg warmers over her socks and any bright jewelry

Casual outfit: A bright pink sweater dress with pastel blue leggings and white high heeled boots that reach her knees

Preferred outfit: NA

Hero/Villain costume: A semi tight sleeveless black dress that short in shorts that reach her mid thigh instead, neon pink leggings and skin tight deep scoop cut orange finger-less glove top underneath, a pair of black giggles over her eyes with a white razor tipped mouth mask under covering the rest of her face,

Equipment / Support Items: None

Characteristics:

Personality: VERY much her parents, bubbly and bright and full of energy and love

Big Five personality traits: Sweet, loyal, adorkable, bubbly, friendly

Most prominent personality trait: Bubbly

Best traits: Sweet, bubbly, kind, the life of the social butterfly party

Worst traits: Giddy, "naive", annoying

Likes: Dancing, singing, amusement parks, pools, gel pens, glitter, watching her parents work, painting, strawberry cake, Hachi Kaminari Dislikes: When she gets her glue in her hair (which is why it's usually cut now), being called "slim girl", being called fat

Quirks:  (not the superpower but little silly things they do) She randomly starts singing to brighten to mood of others, drums her pens and pencils where ever, if she runs out of room to doodle in her notebooks she will steal someone elses to draw, she bounces around when she's real happy Fear: Not having friends

Hobbies: Painting, dancing, singing

Skills/Talents: Brightening someone's mood, good at painting

Strengths: Fast runner Weaknesses: Too much use of her Quirk could result in her being in a cocoon for a while depends how much she used and how thick the cocoon's walls were

Reason to keep on living: Her family and friends

What is their self-image like: She's very proud of her looks

Coping mechanisms: She will take her mom's old hero costume and her dad's shirt and curl up on the bed or couch listening to

Any life motto or quote they live by: "Life is gonna suck, that much we can all agree on, but why do we have to turn off the music or take away colors over one sad thing?"

Favorite things: All colors, puppies, kittens, bunnies, daisies, strawberry cake, the sound of music, love

Health:

Physical: Though chubby healthy as can be

Mental: Though has slight anxiety it's good

Emotional Stability: Pretty highly emotional and has slight anxiety but besides that good

If faced with crisis, what is their go-to: Screams and flights but goes to get help if that doesn't help

Nutrition: A bit uneven but normal

Habits: She chews her nails

History, Background, and Future:

0-4: Born in Tokyo Japan she lived her life pretty spoiled and loved deeply as a very happy and bubbly baby

5-8: She proved to be much of a social butterfly in her early school years and already came up with the dream to make others happy

9-11: By 10 her parents announced the pregnancy of her little brother Akio and started her life as a happy big sister with her besties beside her Got her Quirk during one Christmas break resulting in a funny mess

12-14: Developed a crush on Hachi Kaminari through their friendship and day dreams about marrying him and becoming a UA student to get her goal in check on becoming someone who makes everyone happy

15-Present: Got accepted to UA and live at home with her now five year old brother

Did they like their upbringing: She loves it

How has their upbringing shape them: Very proud and bubbly

What did they enjoy most about their childhood?: The times with her family having fun at an amusement park

What did they hate most about their childhood?: NA

Current Dream: Study hard and become someone who can protect and make others smile and be happy

Long-term goals for Future: Get married to someone who she loves and she loves back while becoming a person to make everyone around the world happy

Home: She lives in a apartment near campus right in the same building as Rose's family

Home Life as a Kid: Full of love and fun

Home Life Now: Supportive and loving

Quick Family background: Any Friends:  Kohaku Usagiyama, Rose Takami, Zora Midoriya, Yuzuriha Midyoria, Tsuki Bakugo, Hoshiko Bakugo, Arashi Jiro-Yaoyorozu, Chiharu Jiro-Yaoyorozu, Hachi Kaminari, Gou Iida, Sakura Todoroki, Hiiragi Monoma Any Family: Mina Ashido (mom), Hanta Sero (dad), Akio (little brother)

#my hero academia #mha oc #mha next gen #my art

[peachesvanilla]

Superhero & villain

characters: Baekhyun, Jongin (not a couple)

genre: superhero au, villain au, feeble attempt at comedy

warnings: none(?)

inspiration: seen a list of prompts on pinterest and remixed some of them resulting in this

Jongin sits on the sofa watching the rerun of an evening korean drama. His hand clasped on his mouth at the scenes unfolding before him. “How can she be his daughter? DNA test! DNA test! Don’t believe that evil girl.”

“If you are done,” Baekhyun, his enemy and the nation’s hero, fidgets in his seat next to his. Dressed to the nines in his graceful red and black suit with a B marked in the middle of his chest. “I want to talk to you.”

Jongin in his pink pajamas glares at the man, “do I look like I am done? The episode started just now. I missed yesterday’s episode because of you and your heroic feats. Made me work late on my plans and accidentally made me blow up a building.” He huffs. “And it is my favorite mall. It has these super cool animated dresses. Now where do I have to go shopping?”

Baekhyun grits his teeth, light glowering off his back forming a halo. The lights around Jongin flicker, making him roll his eyes. “Stop playing role of a technician, Mr. Superhero. I am watching a drama, I can still blow you up, mind you that you are in my area.” 

The flicker of lights pauses, and the halo disappears. “Sorry.” He runs his hand through his wet hair and sighs. 

Jongin catches the wet droplets falling on his expensive carpet. “Didn’t blow dry your hair?”

“Didn’t have much time,” he replies, “that guy already started damaging half of the city.” He points his thumb at his shoulder towards the glass floor to ceiling windows. 

A huge robot is smashing its way through the skyscrapers, in between howling in robotic voices. Jongin clicks his tongue and shakes his head in disappointment. “He could at least paint the huge scrap of his, what are these villains thinking?” He stares at his ceiling for five minutes, “maybe I should start a crash course on how to be a villain.”

“If you are done, I really need your help.” Baekhyun’s face contorts in pain asking for help. “Please, Jongin.”

Jongin blows on his nails, humming. “Overtime. That too helping a hero. It may tarnish my precious reputation.” 

“I thought you enjoyed being one and only villain. Now that guy is taking away all the attention.” Baekhyun leans in, his cape flying. “Believe me no one is talking about your heist. Junmyeon is trending on twitter. No single tweet about you.”

Jongin gasps. “NOOOOO.”

“But,” Baekhyun is now whispering, “if you join me in fighting that guy, you will trend, and if you want we can have a fake fight this sunday. I’ll take one or two hits. Think about it.”

The lead on the drama has magically brought out the DNA reports and slams it on the evil woman. Jongin clicks his nails together. “I should be the only one.”

“Yes.”

Jongin turns to the huge robot missing the swing to collapse the building. He winces. “So, fight on sunday? You and me?” 

Baekhyun beams, the lights in his house shining brighter. “Of course.”

“I am going to win. Not you.” 

“But–”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Fine!”

“Lemme get ready.” He jumps to his feet, excitedly teleporting to his dressing room. “What should I wear?”

“We don’t have time!” Baekhyun screams. 

“Noisy.” Jongin trails his hand across the colorful suits. “Since we are a team today, should I wear red?”

“I can’t deal with–”

“There's a blow dryer on my dressing table and stop spilling on my precious carpet.” 

“Ah.” Baekhyun sits on the chair turning on the dryer. “It is irritating me a bit too honestly. I have a date you know. But I am here with you.”

“Sucks to be a hero.” Jongin gets into a bright red suit and checks himself in the mirror. “Ooh, the gym is paying off in the end.”

“Your ass looks great.” Baekhyun comments. 

“I know!” Jongin grins. “What if your date chooses me after today’s fight?”

“Don’t push it.”

Baekhyun and Jongin stand on the terrace of Jongin’s building after an hour of bickering. “Why do you need me for this crap?” He shields his face from the burning sun. “Today is hot. Can’t you choose another day?”

“Shut up.” Baekhyun’s cheeks pinks. “He does some weird stuff when I go to him. Something out of my knowledge.”

“Stuff like?”

“Shoots some beams making my power weak.” 

“But its a metal thing. There will be a button, you just need to switch it off. Or if you smash the power supply—” Jongin pauses, “don’t tell me you don’t even know that.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s why you need to study.” Jongin shakes his head, “come to me at seven in the evening. I’ll tutor you for an hour.” He grumbles under his breath, “and he is saving people’s lives with that half ass knowledge. I don’t know.”

“Shut up. I’m going to hit you.”

“You wish.”

#jongin #jongin fanfic #baekhyun #baekhyun fanfic #jongin drabbles #drabbles #baekhyun drabbles #kai #kai fanfic #exo #exo fanfic

[sollucets]

oowu 5 super long-winded dvd commentary post GO

there's a scene i cut because i ended up going a different emotional direction with the conversation at the end that is dear to me, so you should know that at one point i had akk cup aye's face in his hands and squish his cheeks until he made a fish face and call him a dumbass in only the most tenderest of tones

the brevity of aye's brief reflection about kanthua is a feat of remarkable selfrestraint. like every time i talk about thua i did indeed get sucked into a black hole this chapter and edited a lot of it out. someday i will figure out what it is i feel long enough to write a fic and then it will be over for all of you

thailand father's day is a Remarkably royalist holiday actually. it's on dec 5th because it's the late king's birthday and although you are meant to honor your own father by giving him a flower a lot of the public celebration is of the king

aye's ptsd nightmares are... functionally in remission at this point in the story. for some people the nightmares will literally never leave; this is how it is for some of my friends. you can have periods of none by regulating your sleep schedule and meds and therapy, but triggers are triggers and they can and do come back, because ptsd is not something that gets cured, it gets worked through. as far as nightmares go, its Dramatic for them to be triggered by actual ptsd triggers (and this does happen) but you can also do it by just. being regular stressed out. or fucking up your sleep schedule. or like having caffeine too close to bedtime

i spent a lot of time looking very closely at first kanaphan's face for that section about the moles. very self-indulgent of me. it should be a crime to put that man in makeup that hides them they're so cute. the danyok painting scene in not me is the best place to look really really closely at first's face if you, like me, are into that sort of thing

i said in a comment reply (to the commenter light of my life etc cynning) that ch5 would touch on whether or not akk feels lonely and i did mean it! it's just. aye is a bit distracted this chapter so he's not thinking about it much. but akk talking to wat and getting the texts and all of that was an indicator of sorts. the real mystery will be cracked next time

#dvd commentary #rowan chatter

[diosa-loba]

.. and at the end of the day, women will still hate women.

because beyonce is dumb irl, a terrible songwriter who has a good body and is only successful bc she's light skin n practices dark witchcraft and she's really nothing compared to not aging well rihanna, that abused victim that went back to her abuser, but who is now a baby mama who settled for a broke, colorist ASAP Rocky, but taylor swift is a closet lesbian who always plays victim and a bitter nothing who clearly hates other girls. and megan thee stallion is an alcoholic hoe who only knows how to twerk to make up for her is trash rapping and she deserved to be shot. and that's exactly why cardi b sucks cos she has a terrible bbl and had to change her whole face to be pretty, but doja cat is a self hating racist who's rude to her fans and is only hot when she's thicc and wears lopsided wigs. zendaya is only considered pretty and a successful actor cos she's biracial just like h.e.r and tyla who are just industry plants with boring, forgettable music. don't forget about lori harvey the nepo baby who only is seen as arm candy to famous men because they need the pr .. also cringy singer j.lo and her attention starved pap calls, poor ben affleck, looks so trapped and miserable in a marriage with such a horrible woman, unlike that terrible dancer mariah carey, who has no sex appeal and is a fat, stuck up hater who thinks she's better than everyone .. oh she's only black when it's convenient to the black community. and like, there must be something wrong with halle berry if she can't keep a man, she got a nose job and she's really not the first black woman to be awarded academy award for best actress bc she's only half black, but viola davis is not considered beautiful enough bc she's dark skinned. but naomi campbell, ryan destiny and justine skye are all beautiful dark skinned women even though naomi is a super bitch with a white child and ryan and justine are nobodies so they can't represent black women. oh and lana del rey was hot until she was big and she made trailerpark sexy until her ass got a little too fat. and ariana grande .. black fishing to asian fishing, culture vulture homewrecker who clearly needs therapy and a sandwich, and kylie and khloe the ugly forever a baby mama pathetic, desperate sisters, but kim k, the scared to age porn whore who f'd up her face n body and is more boring than watching paint dry.

and amidst all of this, we still don't know these women. we cannot fathom the pain of having a public divorce, one where people choose sides and hurl insults at you until the battery on their phone dies. we don't watch them chase after sweet-cheeked children in tucked-away backyards or play board games, have glasses of wine or cups of tea and dance around with their best friends while their belly's ache in laughter. we don't know their marriages or relationships .. and we don't know their pains, traumas, insecurities or solitudes. we don't watch them unravel themselves, time and time again, preparing for the battle that we have made of their lives. they can never make a mistake. they can never cry. they can never be who they believe themselves to be.

and we take all of this and we go to work, we go grocery shopping, we walk in sunlight, we sit under the moon, we watch our favorite series and read our books.

so i close the gossip app. i try not to think about the endless women debating, arguing and insulting about how much they hate this age woman, that age woman, that skin color, this skin color, her body, that body, her hair, her face, her relationship, that side chick, that wife, that singer, that model, that actress, that famous man's woman. i try not to think about how much they would hate me if they knew me. and i think about how most of these women are probably quite lovely irl and their online personas are not who they really are .. they have insecurities the same as me and every woman i've known irl. yeah some of them may be just be haters, jealous and bitter, but most women just need to feel better about their shadows, if "such n such" public eye persona has "this fault". sometimes i join these debates, sometimes i defend, sometimes i post a funny gif, sometimes i've shared my experiences or things i've learned, but most times i'm silently lurking and keep my opinions to myself lol some of them women are unnecessarily brutal bullies.

then i come to tumblr 🖤 .. where it's cozy 🔥🌻

#all the first paragraph is what i have actually seen on such gossip site(s)

[merrrrrrrrry]

hiiii ✨

we love a good public transit system!!!! truly makes everything so mych easier!

that all sounds like so much fun!! what colors of nail polish did you get? i bet they’re all super pretty 🥹 im actually pretty good at applying nail polish i just never do it djshsj but i used to paint my moms nails all the time when i was younger 🥺 i had no idea who Sabyasachi was but i looked on instagram and im in awe!! everything is so pretty!!! the caves sound amazing!! did you take a lot of pictures or no? we don’t have anything similar near where i live but i would love to go somewhere like that in my life. was there anything super special down the trail not meant for tourists?

it sucks that you weren’t able to try Marathi food but it sounds like the trip was still amazing!! and it’s good that you were able to go to the seafood restaurant and have a good experience✨

i do cook!! im basically the only person in my family who knows how to cook/enjoys cooking. my mom used to do all of the cooking when i was younger, but i really started enjoying cooking when i was 16/17 so i kinda took over. my favorite and my family’s favorite is fettuccine alfredo! i make the alfredo sauce myself and add broccoli and chicken and it’s always so good!!

im late responding to your last reply so i hope the rest of your trip was just as enjoyable as the beginning and your journey home was safe 🫶🏻✨

-✨holiday pal✨

Hellllo

There were so many colours - I'm currently wearing two of them, very badly applied. There's orange and blue and green and black in addition to these

Sabyasachi makes lehengas very well. As well as those little clutches of his. Saaris are a hit and miss. But we did Not like his gowns and suits and kurtas. We stood there criticising knowing full well we wouldn't buy a thing akdbajksks

This time around i didn't take as many photos during my entire vacation. I just let myself relax a bit and take everything in rather than rush to take photos like i usually do. Here's a few for you

This is the iconic CSTM station facade at night

Here's the Taj and Gateway of India as seen from a ferry. That tall building behind Gateway of India is continental, the ugly (in my opinion) new expansion of Taj hotel.

Here's the view from very close to the topmost point of Gharapuri island where Elephanta Caves are located

Here's a photo of a sculpture of Ganesh from inside the Elephanta Caves. This sculpture was in a cave that was inside the main cave, hence the bad lighting

Here's a cat near Jahangir Art Gallery

Here's my favourite photo from Kanheri caves

And here's a monkey from on top of kanheri

Sorry I went overboard 😬😬there wasn't anything super special about that trail other than that it was narrow and precarious. But there were some pretty wildflowers💕💕 couldn't risk taking out my phone to take a photo for fear of falling but they were very pretty

I cook pretty rarely so i don't have a lot of practice and i take a lot of time. I'm planning on cooking on Christmas for my family. I've already got my recipe for the pavlova that I'll make in the microwave. I want to make a chicken and pasta dish and make the pasta from scratch but I'm struggling to find a recipe 🥲for it

We spent the last today in Navi Mumbai just in a relative's flat the entire time. It was lovely to catch up with Aita (Grandma) and Koka (Grandpa). They're not blood relatives but close family friends on my father's side that have become like family. They're getting really old now but it was delightful to see how they're still getting along despite their ailments. Our train back home was more than 12 hours late💀 but i didn't mind. It allowed me to take the cstm photo that I've shared with you

That fettuccine Alfredo sounds so good. Tell me more about your cooking experiences.

Look at what my keyboard suggested when i typed that sentence☝🏼💕🥺

#✨holiday pal✨ #i hope the photos aren't too much #and thank you for always taking the time to write to me💕💕 #merrranswers

[agreyarea]

Project 1 - Smile Please

My FMP starts with the concept of how strangers see each other. We see everyone as black & white and nothing more. But question is are we truly seeing them or just assuming (hence the split / checkerboard lighting and heavy contrast's between the blacks & whites). This idea for the 1st part comes from a small. but impactful scenarios whenever I have gone for walks I have always had people stop me and ask if i could take their photos and the only thing I have always said was "smile please" and instantly every person had their own smiles - someone with an A star smile, some no smiles, some super serious, some awkward smiles just me well basically you get it all kinds of smiles. And that felt really interesting to me. On how we could perceive someone just through their smile. Hence the name "Smile Please" for the first part of the project series.

Light/Mood Inspiration

Chiaroscuro to emphasizes shadow and light. To create high contrast

Film Noir Lighting

IN PAINTING

IN PHOTOGRAPHY

IN FILM

Checkerboard lighting to create the Chiaroscuro look in the work. Irving Penn's portraits. Checkerboard lighting and textured backgrounds

Trial 1 - 16th Nov 2022 (Testing out Checkerboard Lighting)

Booked the blackout studio to test out a couple of checkerboard lighting setups to see if they would bring the dramatic feeling I want to achieve in my third project "Smile, Once More"

Started by setting up the black backdrop and creating a curve so shadows are unable to gather in your background because there are defined lines.

Places the stool in the center and a few inches away from the backdrop

Then took a Bowens 1500 flashlight and attached a hexagonal softbox with double diffusion. Took the height up and tilted it down Positioned parallel to the stool so the light runs across the subject's face.

To cut as much light from falling on the background I looked around for a black v-flat or blackboard but none of them were available. I used a white Polystyrene board and placed it diagonally.

It worked well but was not enough so then I added black velvet cloth on top of it and kept more on the edge it seemed to suck in the light more than letting it bounce off the side on the backdrop.

Before the subject arrived at the studio I sent the DSLR up on self-timer so I could test the light before he arrived.

I wanted the image to have a low depth of field and complete focus on the subject

I was really happy as I was able to achieve the perfect stops of light on each part of the face that I wanted. 1 stop apart creating the dramatic contrast that I wanted to achieve

The key light side - 5.6

The centre - 4

The side away from the light - 2.8

As I want to do this series in black and white film I shot images for the test shoot using a Canon EO3 (Analog camera) with a 50 mm lens and Ilford HP4 125 black and white film roll.

Camera Settings

F-stop - 5.6 Shutter Speed - 1/125 ISO - 125

Analog Images (RAW)

For the two images below I thought I'd test out the spot modifier with a CTO as the white flash was making his skin tone different. Once I added the CTO I feel of the light on his skin got better.

I like how the spot modifier worked but because the CTO wasn't fitting properly in the slit the light coming out had two sections which were nice but not for this particular feel that I was trying to achieve.

I like how the spot modifier worked but because the CTO wasn't fitting properly in the slit the light coming out had two sections which were nice but not for this particular feel that I was trying to achieve.

I had a bit of difficulty getting the right focus in low light as the viewfinder of the camera was a little damaged. So I feel the images could be sharper on the eyes. I like how the lighting setup created a dramatic effect.

But I feel something is missing. Maybe adding a gravity background (textured) can add more depth to the image and make the subject stand out.

Digital (RAW)

I shot in digital to compare if colour or black and white suited the concept better.

I feel black and white is better as it feels more dramatic and intense.

Using a Spot Modifier

I thought I'd test out the spot modifier with a CTO as the white flash was making his skin tone different. Once I added the CTO I feel of the light on his skin got better.

I like how the spot modifier worked but because the CTO wasn't fitting properly in the slit the light coming out had two sections which were nice but not for this particular feel that I was trying to achieve.

(Digital)

but the split of colours looks nice in black and white

(analog)

Testing Focal Length and Poses for Stage 1 (11.01.23)

Fixed lighting set up for Stage 1 - One flashlight with a large Octagon Softbox (placed at the side of the subject, camera left) between the light and background there is a blackboard to cut the light from the backdrop.

Today I tested out the focal lengths and various poses that would work with the light setup.

I first started with 85mm but realized it felt too close to the subject. So brought it down to 35-50mm so the distance could be felt.

Then tried out various poses to see what best worked with the concept and finally reached the conclusion that at least half the face had to be darker so you feel the distance (not knowing the person)

After the first

Then tried out various poses to see what best worked with the concept and finally reached the conclusion that at least half the face had to be darker so you feel the distance (not knowing the person)

All the portrait's will be taken in the same setting and lit up similarly

Using 50 different participants including me I will create a collage

Each participant will be signing a model release form