#overdone ta hell and back

[spaciebabie]

As a certified Springtrap simp, which backstory for William do you prefer: one where he was a good dad driven mad maybe by jealousy or the loss of his youngest child, or one where he was always an abusive narcisist that cared for nobody but himself?

i feel like the, "im evil so i must also abuse my creations and/or children" has been really overdone. like idk im just tired of seeing it personally. and the whole "haha!!! im craaaazy!!" thing we get in the comics also rubs me the wrong way b/c. thats not. how he's portrayed in the games at all. esp hearing him in sister location he feels like he would be a calm sort of madness. he seems like a rational guy. he doesnt talk like that. he doesnt act like that. it seems really contradictory

i feel like him being a good dad (or at the least caring deeply for his children) gives him more urgency and like,,,,makes sense w/what we're given. it aligns the most w/the theories we have asta why he started killing etc. i also just enjoy the tragedy of it. he started out as a good guy w/good intentions and then was twisted inta something unrecognizable b/c he was so focused on tryin ta reach his goal. personally my hc is that he was jelly of henry and then the death of crying child tipped him over the edge and started his whole killing thing. imo its better than, "hee hoo i was evil FOREVER!! im PURE evil and have always been EVIL!!!" like. okay. wheres the subsistence?? give him depth dammit

why would he build a robot for his daughter if he didnt love her. why would he tell crying child he would put him back together if he didnt love him (not really cemented as something he said, but i mean who else would say it?? certainly not michael he was a boy. i think as a fandom we assume its heavily implied). it makes the afton kid's deaths so much more impactful. the prospect of this man losing pieces of his life bit by bit and being driven insane by it is enthralling

i love a good chaotic descent. i love thinking abt him being consumed w/a need ta revive his own son becoming obsessed w/life and death as a result. oh the irony of loving your own kid so much you would take others children away from them, knowing how losing your own felt. and the twisting of emotions as he sees his son michael someone who he would've died for, try ta stop him. b/c hes not understanding, they need ta b together again. thats all hes tryin ta do. get his family back tagether. and all these fucking obstacles are in the way of his only goal. and the manifestation of hatred of his own son b/c of this. b/c hes getting in his way. like, talk abt juicy. i want that man ruined. it just adds a layer of psychological torture that i just adore. william fucking ruined everything. he ruined his own happy family, he ruined his own life, and if he actually mourns that? chefs kiss.

my thought is, why even have him have a family in the first place if they're just there ta demonstrate he's evil? seeing the afton family purely as a plot device, we already know afton killed kids. one can assume a person who kills kids is a bad person (maybe? see this is where the juiciness comes in w/him caring for his children. is it really bad from his perspective if hes trying ta save his kid? or is it noble?) so we dont need ta b demonstrated ta that hes a bad person again. if hes just pure evil from the get go it doesnt make sense ta me ta have the afton kids be prominent in the story (besides michael, but even then he could probably be replaced by one of the victims family members) when you could illustrate the same point by focusing on the kids hes killed and their families. why do the afton kids matter if he treats all children the same. why are we focusing so much on the afton family and what appear ta b major story beats in their story, especially since the children he has killed do not get as fleshed out as the aftons do. i feel like if his family wasnt important ta him we wouldnt hear abt it at all. you could achieve the same message by making him single and childless.

do u kno how many stories there are of "Righteous Child Of A Horrible Guy Who Hates Everything, Even Their Own Family, Goes Out Ta Stop Their Parent And Save The Day" there are? its b/c its too easy!!! its too easy for u ta assume that a character is the worst and has been the worst forever!!! its too easy ta assume that an evil character would abuse their family!!! its too easy ta assume an evil character wouldn't have traits besides jealousy, hatred and narcissism!!!!

#spacie splains #idk i think of things really objectively #i dont like clutter in my stories i like things ta have a point #and i like them ta serve a purpose and be unique. not just demonstrate the same facts over and over again #unless thats like a theme and intentional but yk #like i said i dont like the 'im evil and treat my family like shit' trope #overdone ta hell and back #so its a personal thing #thank you for asking me abt this! i love talking abt him as u can see :) #give me morally grey characters give me characters who descend inta the worst version of themselves for ways they could have prevented #give me characters who know they're spiraling give me characters who know its wrong but cant stop #give me characters who do horrible things for a cause that is sentimental and noble ta them #give me characters who you can understand why they did that even if it was awful #WOW I TALKED A LOT #.....8 years of brainrot‚ even if i wasnt conscious of it #I DONT LIKE THE EASY ROAD!!! I DONT WANT TA BLINDLY HATE HIM I WANT 2 THINK!!! #i like these rants i do so ill tag him #as a treat ta myself #william afton #fnaf #you: ask me a simple 'hey which one do u prefer?' me: here is my whole dissertation on the subject that is william afton

[birdybirdnerd]

BTS for "don't you ever wonder what it's like out there?" please!

BTS: I’ll write a DVD commentary about my personal favorite passage from [that fic]

oh man, my first tsp fic! well, sort of- id posted the prologue for somewhere else by then, but hadnt gotten further than that. i was still in the planning stages, and needed to get a better handle on their voices before i felt comfortable writing something with more meat to it

BTS below the cut!

Of course, the Narrator knew that. Had known it for awhile. That didn’t stop him from forcing Stanley through the game, over and over again, for some twisted and unknown reason. It was enough to drive a man insane- it had, on several occasions. But with how the world reset at the end each time, it always passed, leaving Stanley sitting at his desk, cracks in his mind sealed over once more and he would get up again and begin the game again.

I always loved the idea that, since the resets fix any damage to Stanley's body, that they would also repair any damage to his mind- i.e. a mental break brought on by despair, or whatever's going on at the end of the Mariella/Insane Ending. I imagine that that, in and of itself, would feel like a new kind of torture, though; unable to recede into the haze and blur of a broken mind, forced to be one hundred percent present for every waking moment, for every dragged-on second you're trapped. Truly, Hell.

I am tired, he signed up at the ceiling. Tired of your bullshit.

“Stanley!”

askfjasd okay I know it's overdone but I love having Stanley just spew profanities and offend the Narrator. See: the 'asshole'/'not those words!' exchange from Somewhere Else. It's funny to me and it'll never stop being so.

“In one, it goes just like the Freedom Ending: you find the mind control center, turn it off, the door opens, freedom! Ta-da!” He laughed, the sound sending ice down Stanley’s spine. “The twist is, I would let you step outside. You would wander around, find civilization, maybe even make a home for yourself. You’d think: ‘Is this it? Am I finally free?’ You’d have your doubts of course, who wouldn’t?

This? This is horrifying. It's a form of the 'it was all a dream' trope, but in a new and horrifying way, to me. To imagine going through all that, getting out, making a life- only to have it snatched away and have you stuck right back where you started?

Horrifying.

“I’m… sorry, Stanley,” he murmured. “That was too far, even for me.”

Goddd, I love when they're both stuck and they both hate it but there's no one else around to take their frustrations out on, so they hurt each other and then they regret it and make up, only it's hard, because there's no one else to go to, nowhere else to hide, and it's awful and toxic and these two are not healthy for each other here. I'm not about to go expanding on this particular iteration's relationship, but there's no way they can grow anymore than swinging violently back and forth between animosity and cautious companionship unless they get out. Tragic.

-

Thank you so much!! This was fun, returning to an old story of mine :D

#personal #my writing #tsp #the stanley parable #dont you even wonder what its like out there #ask #serenefig

[wafflebatter8225]

Pepperony Gift Exchange Fic

Title: Top Chef

Pairing: Tony Stark/Pepper Potts

Rating: G/Fluff

Timeline: Takes place right after Iron Man 2

Recipient: @roberteliasdowney

Author’s Note: @roberteliasdowney I am so, so sorry for the lateness of your fic.  My muse did not want to cooperate with me.  I could not figure out a good coffee shop au fic for you, but I do hope you enjoy this.

Pepper blearily blinked her eyes open and it took her several moments to realize that she wasn’t in her house.  Heck she wasn’t even in her own bed.  She currently lay under devilishly soft sheets that had to be a four figure thread count.  Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the intoxicating combination of expensive sandalwood cologne and motor oil.  That meant she was in Tony Stark’s bed.

 The memories of last night surfaced to her mind: eating takeout in his living room, making out on the couch before activities moved upstairs.  Pepper remembered Tony’s callused hands over her body, the prickle of his mustache on her legs, and the weight of his arm over her hip as they fell asleep.  With a sleepy smile, she turned over and her hand encountered cool sheets.  Sitting up, Pepper wondered where Tony had disappeared. Did he regret letting her stay over?  Did he go sleep in another bedroom after she fell asleep?

  “I didn’t know if you wanted Tabasco or ketchup so I brought both.”

 Did he just go down stairs and make her breakfast?  He entered the bedroom carrying a tray of food.  

 It took a moment for her sleep addled brain to answer.  “Huh?”

 “For your scrambled eggs.” He stood by her side of the bed with a knowing smile.  “You thought I left.”

 “No I didn’t.”

 “Yes you did.”

 “Well…” she paused. “You did kind of leave.”

 “But to make you breakfast! Ta-da!” He lay down the tray over her legs with flourish.  He presented her with a plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausage with a cup of fresh coffee.  “I’m sorry about the sausage; it’s a little over done.”

 Overdone was an understatement; the meat was blackened to charcoal links.

 “This looks wonderful,” she replied softly.  “Thank you.”

 Pepper skipped over the sausage, and took a bite of the scrambled eggs.  It was like chewing on a mouthful of rubber bands.  Unlike his mushy omelet from several days ago, these were clearly overdone as well.  

 “I didn’t have enough time to make an omelet so I did scrambled eggs instead.”

 She didn’t have the heart to tell him a normal omelet didn’t take three hours to cook.

 Thankfully the Tabasco bottle was mostly full so that would help cover up the texture…she hoped.

 The pancakes looked safe as they were a fluffy golden brown, complete with a square of butter and smothered in maple syrup.  She cut a piece, and no batter came leaking out.  All right, Tony Stark couldn’t cook sausage or eggs, but maybe he could do pancakes.

 The moment the food hit her taste buds, she took the words immediately back.  No, no Tony Stark couldn’t cook pancakes.  They were salty?! How the hell did he make the pancakes so damn salty? The syrup thankfully cut some of the salt, but God, she couldn’t imagine how bad the pancakes would be without the condiment.

 She worked really hard to school her features as she forced the bite down, because he looked so hopeful. “What do you think?” he asked.

 If Tony were a puppy, his tail would be wagging.  His grin was big and his brown eyes twinkled with excitement.

 As bad as the food tasted, this man went out of his way to cook breakfast for her even though he couldn’t cook and never cooked; even for himself let alone anyone else.

 Taking his face between her hands, Pepper gave Tony a long slow kiss.  “Thank you.  I appreciate the thought very, very much.”

 She raked her fingers through the soft hair at the base of his neck.  “Maybe next time we can cook breakfast together.”  And hopefully teach him how to make a pancake with less salt than French fries.

 “Cook together or cook together?” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 “Yes.”

#pepperonygiftexchange #tony stark #pepperony fic #pepper potts #pepperony

[clairjohnson]

Night Out

This is based off a loose prompt of "jealous and possessive Keatlejuice where the boy goes feral". My buds @hoodoo12​ (link) and @vicunaburger​ (link) also wrote for this - check the links out! I’d like to start this off by saying I’m no writer - but boy do I like to try lmao. So enjoy my public exposure of shame interests. NSF/T (TW: Blood, Violence, Non/con kiss.)

You may have overdone it this time, but honestly? The alcohol and steady thumping of the club music made it hard for you to care. The cute guys buying you drinks didn’t hurt either. Though cute wasn’t really what did it for you now. There was something about the older, leering men in the club that had you tightening your thighs as they walked by. Predatory looks that should have frightened and disgusted instead left you aching. Had you always been attracted to these types of men? Or had he started this new fire? Your ghost summons turned fuck-buddy was anything but a straightedge young man. He was foul-mouthed, perverted, and easily had 20 years on you – well, 20 years from before he died anyway. He hadn’t elaborated, but you got the feeling he’d been gone and buried a long time. Yet, with a laundry list of repulsive attributes, the thought of him and his malicious smile had your mind swimming.  

A large hand gripping your bare leg pulled you from your thoughts, and you snapped your head over to meet one of those less than savory gazes.

“Looking for a good time, sweetheart?”

The rough hand paired with the familiar pet name sent a bolt of heat between your legs – but not for the stranger sitting next to you.

“I’m all set.” You smiled politely and moved from your seat, brushing by the man and heading towards the back door. This needed to be taken care of – and you had a direct line to the man for the job. A rush of cool air hit you when you entered the alley. Your bare legs and arms erupting in goosebumps. While leaning under a flickering light you pulled out a pack of cigarettes – your gaze drifting to the adjacent wall. Images of you being shoved against it were all it took to have his name slipping past your lips.

“Betelgeuse.”

The word came out in almost a whisper while you placed a cigarette in your mouth.

“Betelgeuse.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you light the end and took a long, steadying drag.

“Betelgeuse.”

As the last syllable was said the air around you became still. In a flash, the cigarette was plucked from your lips and vanished. Your eyes darted around the dark alley trying to catch a glimpse of him, of stripes adorned by a halo of ratty blond hair. Instead, your gaze landed on the brightly lit cherry of your cigarette, the glow seeming to float on its own in the darkness.

“Ya look like a fuck’n smoke show, babe. What’cha doing all dolled up in a creepy’ol alley?”

You still couldn’t see him, but his words and subsequent chuckle echoed around you. The hair on your arms started to stand on end.

“Went out for some drinks, do a little dancing…” You pulled at the hem of the short black dress you were wearing as you spoke, eager for it to be hiked up over your hips. “But I got a bit, anxious, as you like to put it. Figured you could help me feel better.”

“Oh sweetheart, always happy ta help.” There was a pause while the tip of the cigarette grew brighter as he took in a drag. “I’m ganna make ya feel all sorts of things.”

There was a loud bang when the back door you’d exited from not minutes before swung open, causing your heart to leap into your throat. A large, clearly intoxicated man stumbled out onto the pavement. It took you a moment in the dim light, but you recognized him as the guy who’d been hitting you up at the bar. You watched him catch himself on the wall beside your head, his chin tipping down to stare at your significantly smaller body.

“Thought I’d find you out here. God, you’re pretty.”

Before you had a chance to protest his mouth was on yours. Your small fingers gripped into his shirt as you tried to push him back, a yelp muffled against his lips when he grabbed your ass. You gasped for air when you finally yanked your head back.

“Woah dude, the hell do you think-“

Just like your cigarette the man at your mouth was torn from you. You watched in horror as he collided with the adjacent wall, his head bouncing off the bricks with a sickening crack. The ghost that had been hiding from you before made himself very visible. He emerged from the darkness with a pair of glowing yellow snake eyes and a mouth full of snarling, jagged teeth. Instead of the suit you were accustom to he wore a long brown jacket and guide hat, his dirty hair poking out the back.

In stark contrast to his usual chatty, extroverted self – he stayed silent. Approaching the man with a heated gaze. You thought about saying something. Telling him that the guy was drunk and just being an ass, but any words you planned to say in his defense died in your throat when Betelgeuse’s fist connected with the man’s stomach. You gasped, hand moving to cover your mouth as you watched him land the next punch against his face – the poltergeist’s ring leaving a nasty gash across his cheek.

“Stop.” You could barely hear yourself over the growls and cries of pain. Betelgeuse wouldn’t let up. Blow after blow landing on the crumpling figure of a man. You could hardly see what was happening, but you knew in your gut that this was going south fast. “Please, stop.”

When the hands that normally wrapped around your throat in the throes of pleasure dug themselves into the club goer’s neck with clear purpose, you shouted.

“BETELGEUSE!”

He froze.

The broken man was dropped to the ground and Betelgeuse lowered his arms. Slowly, he turned to face you, his eyes still sharp and filled with something you hadn’t seen before – and it scared you. He’d never scared you. Not once since you’d summoned him.

He started towards you and you tried to back away only to be met with a wall. Your stomach dropped when he was finally under the florescent lamp with you, the light revealing the splattering of blood across his front. Panic started to set in. With a growl he wove his bloody hand in your hair and pulled you into a heated kiss. You moaned against his mouth in response – a wave of relief washing over you. The passionate, bruising kiss lasted only a few seconds before he yanked you back, blue eyes raking over your flushed, terrified face.

“Yer fuck’n beautiful, ya’know that?” He said, lifting his other hand to run a thumb over your jaw, leaving a smudge of red in its path. “Yer so soft. Delicate. And yer Mine.”

The world around you started to spin and you pressed yourself to him for support, burying your face in his button up. As quickly as the spinning started, it stopped, and he shoved you from him. You yelped at the push, ready to collide with the ground, but instead met the bounce of a mattress. The furnishings of a cheap motel room became clear as your head started to settle. Your gaze moved back to Betelgeuse, and even though the remnants of fear was still very fresh, the feral look he gave you while unlooping his belt ignited new feelings.

A snap of his fingers was all it took to have you bare to him. The ghost shrugged off his long jacket and tossed his hat to the floor, but kept the rest on. Causally, he pulled his cock from his pants, stroking himself absently while his eyes roamed your body. The silence was deafening. By now, when you normally called him, he’d have listed off a hundred different ways he was going to fuck you. A stream of never ending filth leaving his grinning mouth. But not this time. There was an edge to the way he surveyed you, almost calculating. Without a word he advanced, pressing himself between your legs and crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

You kissed him back with gusto and dragged your fingers down his clothed back, finding purchase in the fabric. Thankfully you had been ready for him when you called, so the quick thrust of his entrance and the deep stretch only caused a delighted groan. Foreplay obviously forgotten he ground into you with rabid determination. His hips pounding against your bare skin. You’d warped yourself around him as tight as you could, only loosening your grip when you felt his teeth sink into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Playful bites and scratches had always been a favorite of his. He liked to find and kiss the little marks he left the next time you called him up. This bite, however, was not playful. It ached and you shouted, your heels digging into his lower back in response to the pain. He released his hold and growled against your throat, his pace starting to pick up.

“Mother fucker think’n he can just touch you.” The words were snarled into your flesh and you yelped when he latched his teeth, gentler this time, onto your shoulder. Betelgeuse pulled back and pressed his lips on the bite before moving to the next unmarked spot. “Yer already fuck’n spoken for – livin’n guys may not have much sense, but they got eyes.”

He moved away from his final bite to nip at your ear and the fingers at your hips pressed into your skin so hard you knew he’d leave bruises – which seemed to be exactly what he was after.

Betelgeuse adjusted the position, moving your legs over his shoulders and holding your hips with a painful grip then started up his thrusting with purpose. One hand crept up from its death hold to circle your clit. The unforgiving pace paired with his deft fingers had you falling into an orgasm head first and you cried out.  A few rough, deep thrusts and he was right there with you, tipping over the edge with a growl.

It was quiet after that, save for your gasping and thudding heart. You opened your eyes to see him staring down at you – the wild, frankly jealous, look on his face now significantly softer. The ghost leaned down to press a light kiss against your lips before rolling off. He moved further up the bed and laid back with a satisfied groan. As easily as he’d done away with your dress he brought a lit cigarette to his fingers. He placed it between his lips as he kept his eyes on you.

“Com’ere.” He said, patting his chest and holding his other arm open in obvious invitation. You crawled over and curled yourself into him, the position oddly comforting. The comfort was lost for a moment when you noticed the staining of blood across the white sheets – it was like someone had been murdered. Someone almost had been murdered. You looked up at the sated poltergeist as he puffed on the cigarette lazily.

“You want some?” He’d caught you looking and raised a brow before holding out the cigarette. You nodded and he placed it against your lips for you to pull a long, steadying drag.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” You asked while blowing the smoke out across his chest.

“Not sure what ya mean.” A bullshit response. He pulled in a few more deep and needy inhales before he was spent – flicking the butt to the floor and letting out a sigh of irritation.

“I didn’t like him touch’n ya.” The words were said as if they’d been tortured out of him and a scowl started to form on his lips. Betelgeuse flicked his eyes over to your face and then to the red, angry bite on your neck. “We’ve been fuck’n for a while now, babe, and I know we ain’t never talked about it – but this thing? I’m going to need it ta be exclusive moving forward. Now I’m not say’n this changes anything about our little arrangement – “ He paused to make a hand gesture between the two of you, “we’re still just fuck’n, nothing more, I just…”

For once he was at a loss for words. You could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say, or more accurately, what he felt.  

“I like you too.”

There was a long silence. If his heart were still pumping you probably would have felt it trying to beat out of his chest if the look on his face was anything to go by. He groaned and dragged a hand over his face, peaking out between his fingers at you. Defeated he sighed and dropped his arm.

“Yeah, I like ya. And I don’t like share’n.”  

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice movie #movie beetlejuice #keatlejuice

[gwennavierre]

I don't have a computer yet, but wanted to start writing a little fic where Plagg overindulges and gets... chatty.

I don't know how to do a cut in the mobile app, so sorry!

If you like this and want another chapter, please let me know!

__________

Notices: season 3 spoilers, alcohol consumption (by kwami, not kid)

Delicate combinations

Chapter 1

______

'Would you like some cheese with that whine?'

Adrien glared at the smirking kwami and stopped his tangent on how frustrating it was to be in love with a girl who didn't like him back. It wasn't her lack of feelings for him that was the main issue (though it was high up there...), but how difficult it was for him to let go of his feelings for her to pursue someone else. He enjoyed spending time with Kagami, and tried really hard to feel happy at the thought of possibly k-kissing her... but.. Adrien sighed. Plagg was right, he was whining and that wasn't doing anything but making him feel worse.

"Sorry, Plagg. I know you're tired of hearing this. I am too, to be honest. At least you're not stuck inside my head with my thoughts, right?" he grinned as Plagg sighed and heavily rolled his eyes.

'I need more cheese for this, Adrien. I'm wasting away, using all my energy to listen to you mope. In fact, I could go for some actual wine as well. It's been a while since I paired my cheese with a nice wine...' he tapped his.. chin? with his stubby arm while he pondered to himself about the delightful combination of good vin and fomage...

"I'll see what I can do, Plagg. Wait here!" The blonde was out the door the next moment, leaving Plagg to start drooling in anticipation.

When Adrien came back, he was holding a glass bottle under his shirt and doing his best impression of a spy in an overrated action movie. Plagg raised his eyebrows as his chosen turned and closed the bedroom door, badly humming a theme from one of those movies.

Turning to face Plagg, he pulled the bottle from its hiding place with a proud flourish. "Ta-daaaaa!" He rubbed his chin with one hand while turning the bottle in the other, reading the label.

"It's the first one I saw and one of the chefs almost caught me, so I don't know what kind I grabbed. I'm not really a fan of wine, either, so... I hope this is okay?"

Plagg hid the bit of emotion that almost showed on his face. Adrien might be an idiot, but he was one of the best humans he had ever had. He flitted to his cheese cupboard and chose the best piece to go with the bottle.

"I forgot to grab a glass.. want me to go get you on-...?"

Plagg had already forced out the cork and was somehow tilting the heavy glass bottle into his mouth. Adrien may not like wine, but he definitely knew that was not how one was supposed to drink such a fancy one... ah well. His kwami looked delighted as he went back and forth with the cheese and the wine, no doubt enjoying the (supposedly) delicate balance of flavors.

Smiling softly to himself, Adrien flopped onto his bed and pulled out some reading he wanted to catch up on. He hadn't realized how sleepy he was until he was woken up an hour later by Plagg... who had apparently been poking his nose while making "beep" sounds to bring him back to consciousness.

'Beeeeep' *poke* 'beeeeep' *poke* 'BEEEEEEPP!' *aggressive poke*

"Ow! Plagg, what the hell?" Adrien groggily sat up and covered his bruised nose with his hand.

'Finally! I've been soooo boorrrred, Adrien. You fell asleep and I had nooooo one to talk to except your pictures of Ladybug, and apparently she's not very talkative right now..' Plagg glared at one of the aforementioned pictures, thoroughly offended at its lack of engaging discourse over the past hour.

"Plagg... are you... are you drunk?"

'What? No, I'm Plagg. You lidderulllly jus' said it. Why would you think I'm Drunk? What kinda name is that, anyway??' the kwami wobbled a bit, even while floating in air, and gave a crooked smile.

Adrien stared blankly at him and slowly blinked. "Right. You weren't supposed to drink the WHOLE BOTTLE, you know!"

'How was I supposa know that, huh? You left it on the table for me. You didna say I had to limmmmmit myself.' Plagg sniffed in indignation and held his wobbly head up high and seeing the humorless Ladybug staring out at him again from her place on the wall. Plagg narrowed his eyes and floated towards it, seemingly tripping on himself a few times.

'And YOU!' he angrily pointed his stubby arm at the picture. 'You are NO help ADDDAALL, with your buggy liddle face making my cat go all loopy dovey goggly eyes.'

Adrien rubbed the last bit of sleep from his eyes as he watched his kwami yell at a poster. This... was starting to be very entertaining, if also a bit embarrassing. Poor Plagg was all he had to talk to about his love for the polka dotted heroine, after all. He was bound to get frustrated with it eventually...

Adrien tuned back in to Plagg's lecturing of the Ladybug poster.

'...an.. an he won't... stop... talking about you an I know you ca't stop talking 'bout him either, and you're both soo... sooo... UGH.' Plagg was pulling at his face in frustration.

Adrien frowned.

"Plagg, what do you mean she 'can't stop talking about me either'?"

'Wha? Oh. Yeah. Badylug. She's todally obsessed with you. More than you are with her, 'ccording to Sugarcube... '

Adrien felt his face heat up, even as confusion clouded his brain..

"Ladybug barely tolerates me, Plagg. She's not obsessed with me... she likes someone else, after all..." he couldn't control the sad sigh that escaped his lips.

Plagg narrowed his eyes in Adrien's general direction (he wasn't sure which Adrien was the real one, so focused somewhere between the two). He had had ENOUGH. Boi was gonna have a 'come to kwami' moment, right here, right now.

'Adriennnnn... you are the best black cat I've evver had..' he allowed his words to sink in and bring a smile to Adrien's face.. 'you're also the most infuriating and dense one I've had!' welp, so much for that smile... may as well get this over with..

'YOU are the one badylug likes, you freaking idiot. She's obsessed with you, has pictures of you all over her walls!'

"... what do you mean? Why would she keep turning me down then?"

'Not pictures of Chat NOIR, you idiot. Pictures of YOU. ABRIEN UNDRESSED. Um.. Adrien Agreste. Heh. I'm star'ing to sound like her... an.. an Sugarcube hasta... hasta put up with her moaning abou' YOU, 'cause you don't even know she likes you cuz you.. you're stuck on Badylug!!' Plagg hadn't actually slipped up on her name that time. He had started liking it and was now saying 'Badylug' intentionally. He tried to focus his eyes on the two shocked looking Adrien's sitting on the bed. Was this.. okay? Should he have told him so much? Could he have survived anymore pointless pining if he HADN'T said anything? Glancing at the empty bottle of wine, he knew the answer to that. He was doing this for all of them. Adrien, Badylug, Sugarcube, and himself.

Besides, it's not like he's telling him her identity or anything... he should be happy knowing his love loves him back, right?

Adrien blinked several times. Ladybug... liked him? Liked Adrien? No.. was obsessed with him?? Had pictures of him on her walls??

He cursed gravity for not allowing him to float up to his ceiling on a cloud of bliss.

Ladybug... loved him. And he loved Ladybug.

Wait. Ladybug loved him but he had no idea who she was. Was he ignoring her advances the way she ignored his as Chat??

"Plagg! Who is she??"

'Nuh uh, I'm not 'sposed to tell ya.'

"I know that, but.. Plagg, if she loves Adrien and doesn't give Chat a chance because of that, and what if I'm doing the same thing to her??"

'Gee. I wonder.' Plagg's sarcasm shot at Adrien, who gasped.

"Tha- that's why you've been so annoyed! You know who she is! Her kwami knows who I am, too, right?" Plagg nodded.

"So.. you two have been watching and listening to us fall apart over our love for each other and didn't think to mention any of this before NOW?"

Plagg glanced sideways at Posterbug and stage whispered 'maybe this wasn't such a good idea afferall, Badylug...' Posterbug winked at him. Yep. He had most definitely overdone it with the wine.

Boldly ignoring Adrien's rant, Plagg phased into a cupboard and curled up for a nap. Adrien will calm down, eventually. Then maybe he can stop moping about Ladybug and start paying attention to a certain girl in his class who smells like cinnamon and freshly baked bread. Plagg sighed and tuned out Adrien's attempts to open the cupboard. Plagg was no longer bored, but definitely needed a nap.

#miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculous ladybug #adrien x ladybug #ladybug and cat noir #ladybug and chat noir #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous marinette #ml ladybug #mlb fanfic #mlb fandom #tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml fanfic #plagg is a little shit #plagg #mlb plagg #adrien and plagg #miraculous plagg #tikki and plagg #tikki and marinette

[dianadragonfly]

Okay, hang on bitches, cause Imma bout ta rewatch “The Final Problem.” I’ve seen it once since 2017. And because there is no commentary on the disc I have, I will be providing the commentary.

[[MORE]] Since I started my “rewatch and comment” spree, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. Things that had previously stood out in my mind as being particularly not-good are really not that bad. Most were actually really short moments that stood out in retrospect because they seemed incongruous with how well-written and acted everything else was.

Up till season 2, the writers could do no wrong whatsoever. The exact moment I experienced a “well that was overdone” moment of questioning the writers was when Sherlock broadcast a picture of Mary on the outside of the facade in “His Last Vow.” From there, I had moments of doubt and questioning plot and directing choices that took away from the narrative. But, except for the moment John sees Mary die, I never ever questioned the acting choices. The actors are so amazing. And I’m not just saying that because Ben and Martin are hot.

As I prepare to watch the episode, there are several scenes that I dread. Opening with the girl on the airplane reminds me of how much I hated this trick. If the girl is Eurus messing with them, then why do we see it acted out? If we cannot trust that what we see is a reality, then all of the “Mind Palace” theories of TFP (i.e. that it actually took place in a dream or in the head of a character) have some authenticity to them. Ugh.

Damn. I’d forgotten the “Hello. My name is Jim Moriarty” part of the intro. No need for that if the girl is just something in Eurus’s imagination.

Oh shit. I hate hate hate hate everything about this scene of Mycroft.

First of all, there is security in Mycroft’s house.

Second of all, he would have skewered any of those actors with the umbrella sword or shot one of them with the gun.

Why are the paintings crying blood? John and Sherlock couldn’t accomplish that... once we add scary clown it’s just too much. Even for Sherlock.

Oh stop with the heavy-handed East Wind references. Dammit, I loved this show for its subtly. Killer clowns are not subtle, even in pranks.

Now with Mycroft here, in the client position, refusing to sit, with the Baker Street Boys in their chairs - this is what I came for. The light, the look on their faces, the composition of the shot.

Oohh Hudson throwing some shade. John’s half smile...

Is the skull portrait glowing? I can’t tell.

“That’s why he stays!” Fuck yeah. John’s half smile again...

“Middle child. Explains a lot.” As a middle child, I resent that remark. And sort of get it.

So the flashing back and forth in time, with the ashes of Musgrave Hall in the apartment, 5 year old Eurus answering grown-up Mycroft’s questions, the pebble: all of that would be okay, if not a tiny bit less than subtle, had we not just fought a goddamn clown in the scene before.

Oh goddamn. The stupid fucking patience gernade and that song.

Of course Mrs. Hudson vacuums to Iron Maiden.

It’s Sherlock’s turn to half-smile. Cute.

Beautifully shot here with the above view and all three of them at different points on a circle around it.

Ugh. I have to turn away at the “action shot” of them jumping out the window. This is not “Die Hard.” It’s not a cop buddy movie. We just got a really well played, fun little scene where they talked a about Oscar Wilde to avoid talking about the fact that they might die. That’s what I watch Sherlock for.

There was a fan fic written around 2012 that mentions “The Importance of Being Ernest.” Coincidence? Creators reading fanfic? I know Wilde and ACD were contemporaries, but it’s interesting. I can’t think of any other literary works that are alluded to in canon. It’s funny it should be this one.

And now we’ve commandeered a boat. Seriously.

All of the other episodes, I had more patience with on this go-around where I get a chance to type out reactions and reflect on how they are put together. But I’m finding that isn’t the case with this one. I’m just pissed. Give me one or two unbelievable moments or plot twists in an episode and I can sustain it. But between the airplane, killer clowns at Mycroft’s, the patience gernade, and this, I’m already done and we’re 20 minutes in. Sherlock looks like a goddamn vampire bat. And seriously, why does Mycroft need to steal a boat? And write a message in the sand? What the hell? Why dress up?

Sherlock’s security guard act cracks me up.

Oh his face when he sees Eurus. His. Face. Curiosity. Heartbreak. Empathy. Pain. Doubt. Fear. THIS is my show. Not patience gernades, killer clowns, dressing up like a sea captain etc in one damn episode.

She “enslaves” people... magical Eurus who makes people kill their family. Really?!

Oh no. He ignores “Vatican cameos.” I forgot that. He chooses to ignore John’s warning.

His face.... Jesus Benedict can act.

Big bouncy red alert! Okay, what was with the spinning John face when he gets knocked out?

This constant shift between wondering what the hell is happening, wondering if the show has become a parody of itself, and then bouncing back to this heart wrenching narrative — is that the point of this episode? Like “The Empty Hearse” or “The Abominable Bride”? But those episodes explained themselves after they pulled the rug out. As soon as something got to the point of absurdity, it was explained. Sherlock didn’t swing in a window at Bart’s and kiss Molly but we briefly were led to believe he did. Moriarty and Sherlock aren’t really kissing on the roof. (By then we knew what was up though). Sherlock didn’t really attempt to dig up a dead Amelia Rocoletti. We understand it’s a drug-induced dream.

This rapid jumping back and forth with half-assed explainations — I’m coming to believe this off-balance feeling is the point of the episode but I don’t like it. I like it even less than I did before.

Oh Andrew Scott. I love you.

The bastards wait till 5 minutes into the Moriarty scene to tell us it’s 5 years ago. That constant pulling out the rug — I will at least excuse that because there is a plausible explaination given. But it’s a cheap trick. This episode is one cheap trick after another, with only a few moments, here and there, of characters actually interacting.

So it’s late and I don’t know if I have the heart to make it through this whole episode tonight. To be continued....

Edited:

Starting at scene 5 on the DVD because that's when Sherlock sees Eurus for the sort of first time. I kind of just want to bask in Ben's performance here again.

After the last episode, clean-shaven Sherlock in a suit is a relief. He's back... at least a little.

His small smile when he asks her how she got out. . .

I'm realizing how much of this scene had to be Benedict looking directly into the camera and talking to Eurus. That had to be intimidating.

***I've skipped ahead to closer than where I was last night because the small people in my house will want food soon. Parentig gets in the way of fangirling. ****

I still love the Hungry Donkey story.

OH MY GOD! I forgot how much I love Andrew Scott here!!!

Are they making out through the glass?

And now the four of them wake up in a cell but this one has glass. Ugh. The plane again. I love how Sherlock changes his voice here to talk to the girl. He isn't incapable of reading people and reacting to them. He just usually can't be bothered. There’s a fan theory that says Sherlock is autistic. I was going to comment that this skill of his is evidence that he’s not but I stopped myself. He -knows- HOW one needs to act to get people to respond to him, but it’s a learned skill. Which actually might add evidence to the “autism” theory more than the sociopath theory.

Mark Gatiss - I forget what an incredible actor he can be. Whoa.

These scenes - these scenes where they have to apply themselves to a task that Eurus sets for them -- they are so fucking good. Tense and well-acted. I can see every emotion on every actor's face. The rest of the episode should have been better to make it worthy of these performances. It physically hurt watching John try to shoot the governor.

Someone said that Jim Moriarty went from a criminal mastermid to manical Thomas the Train Engine on this episode and I can't unthink that any time he flashes on the screen.

I had a moment, when Eurus was using such clinical language of behavioralism ("prompts") etc that I flashed back onto my life as an ABA instructor. Seriously. I know they are a million miles away but no one watching this would ever think, even for a second, that Eurus was morally right. Why, then, do we do a smiliar thing to autistic children? I had a moment of revulsion then. (Restirct physical liberty and autonomy, make them complete a command that's nonsensical for either reward or aversive. Give prompts. Follow through (deny reward) if one deviates from the prompt). She might as well been saying "Touch table, Sherlock." ("Touch table" is one of the first directives often given in ABA. It's easy to manually prompt (force) a kid to do and helps the kid realize the link between following the requests and obtaining rewards.)

Sorry. ABA rant is slightly off topic.

To be continued in comments ..

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #martin freeman #johnlock #the final problem #andrew scott

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch8

Consequences

TW for gore, enjoy!

Word count - 3,257

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

__________

---Reader---

This is so not what I studied…

“God damnit, Ken.”

Hideous burns extended almost to his elbows. The scorched tapestry of red and black tissue oozed yellowish goo where the deep fatty layer had melted, filling the room with a putrid scent. His hands resembled overdone steak and you cringed at the comparison.

You knew the basics of first aid; everyone you worked with took the same introductory class before their first day. CPR, bandaging wounds, checking the airway… Somehow, you didn’t think the basics covered this level of injury.

But everyone else was outside.

It was up to you.

Plastic squealed under your legs as you shifted to kneel by his head. Foamy blobs dotted the mat where you’d sprayed, but there was enough clear space to position Ken without touching the harsh chemicals. A soft moan slipped through his lips as you moved him, despite your best efforts to keep him comfortable.

What now? What do I do next?

His raspy breathing didn’t bode well. Probably inhaled too much smoke, the idiot. You pursed your lips and scanned the room, blocking out the foul aroma as you searched for the familiar red cube present in every communal room of the facility. Maybe you’d get lucky, maybe it would have step-by-step instructions on how to treat a burn.

Since when has luck been on my side?

By the time you returned to Ken with the first aid kit in hand, soft grunts of agony accompanied his every exhale. The box opened with little complaint to reveal a hodge-podge of bandages and creams, gloves and tweezers and all manner of useless paraphernalia. How long had it been now? It must be close to the cutoff; someone must’ve noticed your absence by now.

Doesn’t matter. He can’t wait that long.

You glanced back at the poor man to find his eyes fluttering open. Whimpers of piteous suffering slipped from his cracked lips as he stared at you, panic taking over as the pain set in. No time to waste.

As if there ever is.

“Hey, hey! Ken, it’s gonna be okay!”

His desecrated arms rose as if to fend off an attack, held defensively between you and him. The huff of his breathing quickened into harsh pants, interrupted by a cough every few seconds. If he didn’t calm down, he risked going into shock. You ignored the alarm bells jangling in your head, the pounding of your heart and the dryness in your mouth. Emotions were useless in emergencies, compromising judgement and ruining rational thought in even the most well-trained individuals. Panic and fear were more dangerous than any weapon on the planet.

And Ken was succumbing to it, far too quickly. Tears leaked from his dilated eyes, his arms thrashing as he searched for an escape. You waited for an opening and seized his biceps, forcing his arms to still.

“N- no! Not you! Anyone but you!”

Why was he scared of you? After all the energy you invested in gaining his trust, what happened to the fragile bond you’d built?

This is not the time.

You leaned back, raising your hands into his view in a blatantly submissive pose and you held as still as you could while he calmed. His brows furrowed in a classic expression of confusion, his mouth gaping like a fish. What a waste of time; you still needed to find V.

“I’m here to help. I know it’s hard, but you need to try and stay calm.”

The same tone honed through years of dealing with your father forced its way through your lips. Placating, calm and reassuring. The voice of someone who meant no harm and only wanted to help. The tension on his face eased another fraction; you were on the right track.

But it was taking too long. How many rooms remained unchecked? Five? Ten?

Too many.

You lowered your hands and surreptitiously retrieved your phone. Time to call for backup. Screw protocol, you needed help. Damn Kotomi…

“Where the hell are you?!”

Aaron’s tinny voice answered after a single ring. You ignored the flare of terror on Ken’s face, if he was in his right mind, he’d be thanking you.

“I found Ken, he’s badly burned! I need you to send help.”

“God damnit! Is Mark with him? Where are you?”

You shuddered in revulsion at the realization of the nearby corpse’s identity. Poor Mark, he just got married. “In the gym. Mark is… he’s dead.”

“WHAT!?”

You flinched away from the speaker. A rapid stream of curses followed Aaron’s shocked cry, but dead was dead. Mark wasn’t your primary concern, or even your secondary. Tertiary, at best.

“Is anyone else still missing?”

This is already a catastrophe. If V got loose…

The thought didn’t bear dwelling on. It wasn’t in your control, none of it was. Even after years of education and hard work, you still weren’t holding the reins. Disaster still struck; people still died. Maybe you were wrong, maybe you couldn’t alter fate.

Maybe fighting destiny was a fool’s errand.

“No, got em all. Hang on a sec.”

His voice shouted orders, muffled as something covered the microphone. Your shoulders slumped in relief at his words. No other casualties, thank the damned stars. Assuming Ken made it, only one person paid the price today.

You could live with that.

“Right, I just sent in some EMT’s. Stay where- what the fuck?!”

“Aaron? What happened? What’s going on?”

Far-off screams echoed through the small speaker. A chill of foreboding toyed across your spine, teasing you with all manner of possible horrors. It wasn’t over.

---V---

He may as well have been a ghost, for all the attention he received. Not that he minded; the solitude allowed him to observe every second of wonderful chaos. The staff focused on others in more immediate need, comforting the criers and calming the panicked. What a delightful display of agony; each face inspired a slough of new ideas in his mind. The next group session couldn’t come fast enough.

Yet one especially tortured face stood out.

Kelly.

He resisted the urge to sneer at her blank expression, as if she simply lacked the capacity to acknowledge reality. Such docility disgusted him. Truly, the woman had no purpose. A wasted life, contributing nothing to society. A leech on severely limited resources. Undeserving of the air in her lungs.

You could fix that.

The artist’s lips twisted into a feral smirk, his emerald eyes glittering with glee. What a lovely idea… It had been so long since he indulged himself. Considering the situation, the risk was low. The closest staff member stood over a dozen steps away, struggling to reassure an incoherent young woman.

“Thank you, Vergil.”

He sidled closer to his target until less than a foot of empty air remained between them. She never shifted her eyes, didn’t bother to notice the predator closing in. His fingers itched as static bloomed in his nerves, the small hairs on his arms standing at attention. Some might call his plan a barbaric form of mercy.

He called it mastery.

“Yours is a cruel fate,” he began.

The merest twitch of her shoulders revealed her perception of him. He tracked the movements of the closest orderly, but the fool was still too far away to change anything. Goosebumps erupted on his skin, an anticipatory shiver running up his spine and rattling the loops of metal around his wrists. It’d been so long since he last saw that delightful crimson splash.

The artist licked his lips and continued, choosing his words with the utmost care. “I see your pain. It never gets lighter, does it?”

He paused, letting his seemingly sympathetic words sink in. No need to rush, not with the glaring incompetence of the staff. He could afford to savor the moment.

“The only peace you’ll ever find is in death. I know it. You know it. Even the doctors know it.”

Another pause as Kevin glanced their way, his attention divided between the artist and several others. Buffoon. Images of the man’s imminent death brought coils of heat to the artist’s gut. Long fingers twitched by his groin but a shouted word restrained him.

Focus!

Right. Kevin’s turn drew near, but today it was Kelly’s moment to shine.

“This might be the only chance you ever get,” he murmured, injecting every word with his own conviction and belief.

This may be my only chance, as well.

She jolted like she’d been electrocuted. Every change in her posture revealed his success; the slumping shoulders, the bowed head, the trembling legs. Any second now… the only question was how she’d do it.

Kelly’s mournful eyes met his, the normal weariness replaced by resigned acceptance. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she released a deep breath and surrendered.

“Thank you,” was all she said.

Then she crumpled to her knees and slammed her forehead into the pavement.

Shocked gasps echoed from mouths in the vicinity, but the effect was localized. Ripples of awareness would inevitably reach the staff, but not in time to change her fate. The artist smirked and edged away, blending into the bewildered crowd to enjoy the show. He was just a face in a crowd, a bystander to such madness. A fly on the wall.

The thought almost made him laugh.

Kelly lifted her bloody face and cracked it against the asphalt again. Stray droplets of crimson splattered those closest to her, staining their white clothing with beautiful crimson. The contrast was as awe-inspiring as ever, evoking ethereal voices to sing their rapture in his mind. He stepped further into the horde, barely maintaining his view as he neared the outer edge.

“Fuck!”

Kevin. He’d do his best, the fool always did, but nothing could stop Kelly now. She rose once more, grinning wider than ever before. It may have eased the ugliness of her face if not for the shattered teeth, broken nose and scarlet lips.

A final lunge. A sickening crunch, more cast off blood splattering the masses. A hint of grey mixed in as her body went limp, limbs twitching in the last throes of her tortured life just as Kevin skidded to her side.

Beautiful.

Horrified screams spoiled the solemn perfection. Perhaps it was for the best, otherwise someone would’ve heard the drawn-out groan vibrating from his lips. He could taste the coppery tang of blood, smell the moment her bowels released. His lids fluttered closed for a single heartbeat to revel in the pulsing joy radiating from his chest down to his cock.

“What the hell happened?” someone cried.

“Jesus…” another murmured.

Just to his left, someone lost their lunch and added another facet of visceral truth to the scene. Kevin’s meaty hands wrapped around Kelly’s shoulders and turned her faceup, revealing an image too grotesque to forget. Few among the horde knew what brain matter looked like before, yet now they all possessed the macabre knowledge.

Well done, Kelly. You had a purpose after all…

Still. If he’d been directly involved, the final view may have achieved magnificence. As it was, her corpse barely qualified as art. Crude, rushed and desperate. The act of a woman without hope.

But it was enough to bring a hum of satisfaction from his throat and a thrill of joy to his deranged soul.

Several staff members rushed toward the fresh corpse. Patients screamed and cried, lost in their own personal lunacy and delusions. Pandemonium and confusion reigned supreme over the crowd.

Weaklings. Now is the time.

A pulse of searing agony accompanied the rumbling voice’s words. He hissed and rubbed at his temples, instinctively trying to ease the pain. A powerful roar followed in its wake as Shadow expressed her displeasure, curses from Vergil and Griffon a beat behind. What new fiend was this, that so eloquently stated the truth?

“Who are you?” he murmured. It wouldn’t do to draw attention to himself now, not when he was so exposed.

I am Urizen, accursed vessel.

Foreboding laughter filled his mind as his blood turned to lava, boiling him alive. Stones pelted every inch of his skin and every nerve howled its suffering. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming, yet a muffled whimper slipped through.

And then, in a flash the torturous pain vanished.

For several seconds, V didn’t dare to move. His breath came in sharp pants, a sheen of sweat shimmering on his skin. There was something different about this newcomer, a form of strength he never imagined and was powerless to resist.

Not that he tried very hard.

Seize the opportunity you created. Let fear not guide your steps, but purpose.

The artist swallowed, twinges of pain still swirling through his muscles. He knew the voice was right, but what shreds of his conscience that remained screamed for him to stay. A strange thing; that side of him hadn’t made itself known in years. Why it spoke now, he didn’t understand.

No matter. Urizen was right. He must make his move now, before freedom danced from his grasp again. It was a shame you weren’t there with him, but he couldn’t waste the chance Ken so kindly provided.

He did not run; the less attention he drew, the more likely his success. The cuffs chafed at his bony wrists and he clutched the chain connecting them to keep it silent as the shadows of branches welcomed him home. For the first time in months, where he went and what he did was his choice to make.

I am free.

But I will return.

---Reader---

Malphas sat in the usual spot at the head of the conference table. Various staff flooded the room, far too many people for the number of seats available. As with most meetings, it was first come first serve so you ended up standing near the door. Not the most powerful position, but it made for a decent view.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started. Aaron?” Malphas began.

The head of security stood and sighed. The weight of responsibility colored his voice as he recapped the events of three days past, the ensuing manhunt and emergency medical treatments. By the time he was done, you couldn’t help but count the numerous faces staring at you with anger. It didn’t make any sense, it’s not like you told Ken to murder Mark and start a fire.

Yet somehow, your peers thought something along those lines.

Assholes.

“Two dead, one escaped and one injured... I don’t need to tell you all how bad this looks.”

Your eyes darted to Kotomi. Her catastrophic failure mystified you; it likely always would. To break down just when people were counting on you to stand tall and keep them safe was unforgivable. What might have happened had she held it together, you’d never know.

I can damn well guess.

You would’ve made it outside in time to keep an eye on V. He’d still be here and Kevin wouldn’t be blaming himself for the first escaped patient in over fifty years. Maybe Kelly would still be alive, too.

It would’ve changed everything.

“First off, we’re going to review our safety protocols in depth. This cannot happen again,” Malphas broke in.

He paused to meet every eye in the room, the authority of his bug-like gaze driving home how serious he was.

“Second, Dr. Ishida will no longer be involved with emergency procedures. Would anyone like to volunteer to take over her role?”

Kotomi bowed her head in shame, hiding behind her silken hair as a meager few hands rose.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from her pathetic form. Why did she even work here? It clearly didn’t suit her skills or preferences. Curiosity tugged at you, but the time to ask her was long gone.

“Until the inquiry has been resolved, Dr. Waras will be suspended from any activities on site. Dr. Waras’ cases will be reassigned to Dr. Ishida for the time being.”

The hum of the ventilation system faded away as static fizzled in your mind. Someone shifted their weight, another coughed. This couldn’t be happening, you refused to believe it.

He can’t be serious!

You’d done everything right, followed protocol to the letter and taken on more than you were supposed to because Kotomi broke under pressure. What happened in the parking lot had nothing to do with you, and Ken never showed any inclinations toward wreaking havoc. How the hell were you taking the fall for this?

“Everyone, stay vigilant. If anything further is required of you, I’ll be in touch.”

As the staff filtered out the door, whispering and averting their eyes from you, pure rage battled for control within you. After all your hard work, all your dedication and sacrifice, they were taking it all away. It didn’t matter if you weren’t found at fault, this would follow you for the rest of your career. If only Kotomi wasn’t such a damned coward, if only she’d done her fucking job...

How could she do this to me? She could’ve said something to defend me, don’t I deserve that much after listening to her stupid stories?

Only Malphas and Aaron stayed behind. Kotomi shot a piteous look at you as she left, but you only glared back. Hurt flashed in her pretty eyes and a small flame of victory danced in your chest, but it didn’t matter.

You spoke the moment the door clicked shut. “You know this wasn’t my fault.”

“That remains to be determined,” Aaron replied coolly.

“But what about Kotomi? She was supposed to do half the floor but she left with the patients! She’s the one who failed, not me.”

Malphas pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He looked so old, like he’d aged a decade in the last few days. “Y/N, I’m sorry. Kelly’s family is demanding answers and there’s an uproar in legal. It was your patients who were involved, your patients who died and got injured. I know you did your best, but until I can prove it my hands are tied.”

Even through the sting of your embarrassed rage, you felt sorry for him. Being in charge at a time like this had to suck.

But still.

“Can’t you just stick me with the lower risk patients instead?”

Aaron snorted, crossing his thick arms derisively. “Not a chance. The press would have a field day, not to mention you’d get so bored you’d start the next fire.”

You pursed your lips. He had a point.

“The moment I have an alternative, you’ll know.”

Years of practice helped you stifle the urge to cry and lash out. Nothing good came from emotional outbursts, especially not in the workplace. You had to stay coolheaded and behave.

At the end of the day, the only thing in yourcontrol was yourself.

You took one last look at the flimsy conference table, the plain beige walls and inoffensive wall art. It was funny, even though the fire was on a different floor, you still smelled smoke and burning flesh. It permeated the stale recycled air like perfume, yet only you seemed to notice.

And blood, that metallic scent followed you everywhere. No matter how hard you scrubbed your skin, imagined ichor stained your hands. You couldn’t escape the fragmented reminders.

But to be cast out, like garbage?

Nothing is more foolish than to expect the world to treat you fairly.

The artist was unhinged, but maybe he had a point.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

#Be My Nightmare #my writing #fanfic #v x reader #reader insert #devil may cry #dmc #dmcv #tw: gore #tw: mental health #tw: suicide

[shlrzy09]

A Letter To My Mother

To my mother,

As it was said in class, fear is an identification that I am at risk. Ma, what I am about to tell you is something I have never shared with you. When Donald Trump was running for president, I did not think that his bigoted self would win. I really had hope for this country. Coincidentally, that was around the same time that I was very involved here in the university and I put in a lot of work to make changes organizing with student leaders and my community. When the news channels said he won the election, I remember being in the student center here at Rutgers University and the shock that went through my body caused me to drop my stuff on the floor. I immediately went back to my off-campus housing and I cried the whole night. I thought about myself and the people who similarly identified as me- queer bisexual scholar, artist, activist woman of color. I thought about you, Frankie (my sister), and Alex (my step dad). I thought about my community and the closer communities we work with. I panicked, I did not know what to do so I went home the next day. You thought I visited to taste your home cooked meal but in my head, it was hell’s kitchen. I needed to know that you were safe because fear took over me and somehow, I imagined what life would be like after these four years and what it would be like for us. I coped through writing and came up with this poem: 

 “Before listening to me,

Remember that what you hear,

And how you’re listening 

Is a projecting force from within.

 So, bear with me. 

Take this to your deepest core.

 If you ask me why I am the way I am,

I want you to know that

I am the way I am.

 But 

if I had one chance to pray,

I would pray this,

Please bless me, bless me, bless me because-

 Here I am, pouring sweat on my body,

But it hurts every time it touches me. 

It burns like acid-looking/wax-burning on a candlelight, lit with fire 

as if I was made from one. 

As if I carry the ocean waves of tears 

Of my ancestors crying for 

Not another day where 

They had to give little pieces of themselves,

Willingly being robbed or their tongues,

Bear,

To ride the bandwagon of such a white blanket. 

Spaces.

 No.

 My tears speak for how heavy my heart feels. 

its weight pushing down my organs 

trying to find the right ways to escape a body so whole, 

yet so hollow.

As if I stand a chance.

I can feel my ancestors’ footsteps marching,

Running, crawling, 

a smoke of sand blowing everywhere,

Stumbling back home.

 No.

 Rooted from my veins, my blood-

My blood always find the right points of temperature enough just to boil immediately 

as if it was a default setting, 

regularly bound to happen. 

Like my body is not mine to keep

Every single time someone who does not

Look like me speak. 

My blood boils 

Ooh 

My blood boils. 

 As if my body was wrapped up, 

bonded by the pacific ring of fire. 

My blood boils.

 No.

 On schedule, there was no structure as to how I scrape the walls of my bones 

And no, it doesn’t hurt,

And no. 

(I mean) 

yes, 

red alert,

red alert, 

red alert,

But not 

to then revert 

the forbidden tending motion

Of the protection I had 

From this 

Red 

White

Blue 

Land of the 

Red white blue

Land of the 

Free?

Free?

Free?

 United Snakes of America, 

Land of the free,

Applies to you,

And you,

And you,

But not for me.

One nation

Under God,

Indivisible,

With liberty,

And justice for all

 - except if you’re not white.

 I knew all along.

Somebody like me will never really be 

My skin so brown

My eyes so wide 

My hair so black. 

My teeth so bright. 

I can’t quite find the silver lining.

 How could I have been so foolish?

I want to feel the privilege of 

Sleeping peacefully 

Knowing that racism,

Misogyny,

And 

Intolerance will not affect me.

 But

I am young

And foolish 

Full of ambition 

 But 

I am young

And foolish 

Full of ambition

In this country.

 Need I say more?

I’m not mad. I just want you to feel what it feels like.”

Ma, we got here ten years ago and it still feel like I do not belong here. There is this concept we talked about in class about humanitas vs anthropos and I could not help to think that I am the other (anthropos). The white folks (humanitas) have done their job again making me feel like I am under them instead of next to them. What it means to me now is that my work is not just for me. This degree is not just for me. This is for you and the family, everyone after me, my brothers and sisters, and everyone who needs love in this country. And then I ask, are we inside the border of something we did not expect to be in or we were just really blind to the reality that this country was not meant to be for us? I believe in the power of visibility. This is our struggle and what I am about to tell you is theirs. 

James Baldwin’s “I am Not Your Negro,” and Ta-nehisi Coates’ “Between The World and Me,” covered the stories of black bodies here in America. Let me tell you, the subjects of their books were not so different than us. Baldwin and Coates were phenomenal writers who exposed so much about their truths. They wrote about their communities with respect and power. I will never turn my back against any writers who talk about the concepts of their communities’ realities because I aspire to be like one of those writers.

Vulgar racism was one of the concepts that were mentioned in their books. Vulgar can mean rude, distasteful, overdone, or in our language- “bastos.” I do not need to explain to you what racism is. You know what it is. Ma, do you know that the Black communities face this vulgar racism the most? I thought that my middle school bullies were the worst, but no. This is beyond calling me chink and making fun of how I say “detention.” This is beyond the point where I hold my tears all day, run to our bathroom, cry, and cause harm to my body because this country was a huge adjustment for me so I had to learn how to assimilate the hard way. 

Ma, in Baldwin’s book, he shared his despair about the time that they had heroes who fought many battles for them but with this concept of vulgar racism, their heroes were only able to fight for a limited amount of time. I pray my respect to Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr., and Medgar Evans. 

There was also another incident when Dorothy Counts, a powerful black student, was taunted and disrespected by white folks for attending an all-white, non-integrated school. That could have been me, ma. I think back about middle school and how nice and cruel the folks were but never this much. Ma, this bigoted white community willingly hurt these humble people for the color of their skin and their desire to mobilize. All they wanted was love and to be treated equally. 

And then in Coates’ book, he shared many examples of police brutality. Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Trayvon Martin, and many more. You’ve watched the news. You’ve seen how they drop dead like flies. Ma, I learned that it is important to say their names, to remember them, and to know how they died. This is all out of respect. They are constrained in their black bodies. I see chains tied up all around them to the point where it is questionable how they even breathe. They operate through the concept of fear, ma. There are many African-American families and other intersectional identities in the Black communities that live through fear. 

This similar fear, I empathize when Donald Trump became president. When my stuff dropped on the floor of the student center, I felt their pain on top of my fear for the future of this country. I am a permanent resident trying to naturalize myself into a citizen of this country I am supposed to love and die for but this is how they treat their people. Tell me how to maneuver around that, please. You always know what is best for me.

Other concepts are the causes and effects of racism. I have mentioned a little about what happens after racism exposes itself in the air but for the Black community ma, again, they have it worse.

In Baldwin’s book, he mentioned a statement that struck me with multiple reflections about how the black community have been treated since the centuries of slavery back in the day. He said, “Blacks are not human, or as human as they are,” (pg 40). This automatically sets a divide between their community and the rest of us. But I understand that it is not their fault. This institutional racism played a huge role that made their lives play out like this. 

In Coates’ book, he mentioned one of the young honorable children who died through police brutality. Ma, he was the same age as RJ (my cousin) the year this happened. The black body is not going to be truly safe in this country unless they know the ins and outs of the streets or even in stuff like higher education. The cause of racism is their black bodies. The effects other than death equals fear throughout their lives. A black child cannot grow up the same way a white child would. The black child, to me, has to grow up faster in different routes. 

Because I know it is not about me, selfishly, what this means to me is that I am not alone. I am not the only one who struggles with some type of institutional system set up against me and people like me. Positively, I know that I will be able to determine who can help me understand the struggle and how to get out of it. I know you are thinking that this does not affect you but to think about it, the foundation of the oppression we face roots from the hatred this country has against people of color, especially the Black communities. 

Ma, I know my tattoos do not mean much to you and in fact, I remember you resenting me for them. I have a safety pin to symbolize a safe haven within my body for people to see that they are safe with me. I have “Love Yourself First” to remind me to healthily love others. I have arrows moving forward to remind me that I am a force that gets set back in order to build momentum for the push forward. My narrative, along with the Black communities only scream unity within adversity. Our narratives need to be heard and I believe that visibility matters. I am your daughter and this is the reality I live in my head. All you know is that I am a college student working for a degree so then I can have better opportunities in the future so then I can buy you a house in the Philippines that you always wanted, and to get us out of Irvington. What you do not know is that Irvington raised me along with you. My friends from middle school are the foundation of my knowledge through the streets and they helped me improve my English. My high school friends taught me about love and relationships with people. And my college friends, I know I am going to cherish for the rest of my life. The people I met, the teachers who believed in me, and the experiences I have seen and heard of all helped shape who I am today. I made the decision to dedicate the rest of my life to my community. Do not worry. You did not raise a quitter. Ma, there are some good in the bad after all. It is just that people like us need to look for the good using different routes and we have to work three times harder. That’s all. Thank you for giving birth to me because I believe in healthy, gradual change and I will be responsible for some of it.

Para sa iyo,

Ang anak mo’ng si Patricia.

#words #personal #iamanimmigrant #firstgen #cortado

[honeststudying]

Hey y’all! So this is the first post of what I’m calling my Studyblr University Orientation Week. For the next week I’ll be making a post a day filled with all sorts of university advice, similar to what you may get from your university’s orientation week but minus all of the glam and attempts to impress you with how amazing your new school is. The subjects will range from what to expect out of dorm life, to how to cope with mental illness, to how to deal with your first day of class. 

This first post is partially inspired by a post that @academicsapphic made about a month or so ago called “Things I Would Tell My Freshman Self.” 

So to all you little university freshmen, here’s some things to expect from your first year or so of university (based on my own experiences as a History major) 

The debate over written vs typed notes will be overdone and drive you up a wall. Different things work for different people in different majors or in different courses. You will get tired of people telling you that you are taking notes wrong and will want to break your laptop over their head or shove your notebook down their throat. You won’t though. Good job. 

You will have a class that you absolutely hate. It could be because of a terrible professor or boring material or annoying classmates, whatever: you hate this class. You never want to go to it and you suffer through your coursework for it. Depending on how bitter and petty you are, you will either do the minimal amount of work required and just pass the course, or you will work crazy hard and get a 90% just to spite them all. 

You will have a class that you absolutely adore. It could be that the professor so clearly loves the material that it makes you love it or it could be that it’s an elective that you weren’t expecting to love this much. You will find the work easy and interesting and be able to get it done on time without a problem. 

You will stay up until 3 in the morning working on a research paper in tears, hating it, your professor, yourself, anyone that comes to mind. You will be running solely on panic and will be anxiously chugging water and shoving junk food in your mouth just to stay awake. 

The library will send someone to talk to your class about research for your papers. They’ve sent the same guy to every single one of your other classes. You’ve seen him fifteen times in the past year and he’s said the same thing every single time. You still don’t know how to do good research. 

You will get sick and miss two weeks of class because you feel like you’re dying. Catching up on work will be hell and you will question why you’re doing this. 

You will miss class because of period cramps. You’ll think to yourself that it’s a stupid reason to miss class; your friends all push through and go. It’s not a stupid reason. Some people have worse cramps than others. 

You will miss class for an actually stupid reason. You’ll know that it’s a stupid reason while you do it. Keep these to a minimum. 

You will begin to notice that some people don’t care about class but still show up. They typically sit in the back and talk all class. You will wonder why they bother to show up if they’re not going to pay attention. Ignore them. They will disappear after first year (mostly). 

You will hate everyone who sits in a left-handed desk with a laptop. 

You will get way too into a television show/book/movie series/podcast/etc during finals. 

You will be excluded. You will feel like you don’t belong and like you’re all alone here miles and miles away from home. 

You will be included. You will feel like you’ve come home and found a second family even if you have to be separated from your first one. 

You will hate the science students who take arts courses because they have to but spend the entire semester bashing on how stupid the professor is and how useless the course is. You will want to turn around and yell at them. You won’t. 

You will love the science students who take arts courses and take it seriously. You will love them even more when they think you’re a genius because you understand the course and they don’t. 

You will be the arts student in a science course and remember why you did not take science. It’s the math. Maybe that’s why the science students are so cocky: they have conquered the great evil and know how powerful they truly are. 

You will have friends from all sorts of different majors and be amazed by how smart they all are. They are all doing things that you could never do. You will not know this, but they are thinking the same thing about you. 

You will learn that different people really do have trouble with different things and it wasn’t just that you were stupid in high school. The zoology major that you thought was so smart for knowing how to balance an equation will ask you for help with their essay and you will find out that they’re struggling solely because they didn’t do any research before beginning. 

You will have a professor that you absolutely love and adore but the rest of the class hates. You will wonder why the entire semester, only to find out afterwards that it was because they were too stupid to listen to what she was saying. 

You will have a professor that you absolutely hate but that everyone else adores. You will never understand it. 

You will wonder if the boys notice that they only ever hate the female professors. 

You will have a TA that is the bane of your existence and who will take off marks from you for no reason other than that he didn’t like you. You will think about how much you dislike him often. 

You will have a TA that puts all other TAs to shame. You will miss them after the semester’s over and you’re stuck with the TA from hell. 

You will learn that the Freshman Fifteen is real and it will happen to you and that’s okay. Eating healthy is good, and your body will thank you when you put an apple into it after eating nothing but fries for two days, but it’s also okay to go and grab chicken fingers from the dining hall at ten at night because you’re stressed about your paper that’s due tomorrow. 

You will meet amazing people from all different walks of life and learn more about yourself and the world than you could ever believe possible. 

You will think that you are the stupidest person in the world. You will think that there is no way that you can do this, that you should just quit and go home now. 

You will think that you are the smartest person in the world. You will look at a mark that you worked hard for and think that of course you can do this, you were silly for ever doubting yourself. 

You will fail a course. It’s okay. Buy a bunch of junk food, cry and feel sorry for yourself for a bit. But then it’s time to keep going because 

You will do this. I believe in you. 

#university #uni advice #back to school #studyblr #studyspo #studyblrs get real #heyabby #heyaly #mangosstudy #itshannyb #heyshanna #sensiblestudy #waytostudy #livsdesk #theteadesk #phctcsynthesis #productiveflower #studenting #my posts #studyblr university orientation week

[regrettablewritings]

hi there friend, I come with another request: Harley Quinn *grin* *nudge*

Assuming this is Suicide Squad!Harley and not TAS!Harley . .  .

who is more likely to hurt the other?: You try to air on the side of caution with Harley. Not only because you know (or rather don’t know) what she’s capable of, but also because you’re aware of her past relationship being extremely unhealthy. However, the effects of her time with Joker have made an impact on how she acts. Sometimes, she may slip up and do something that, at the very least, hurts you emotionally. But for the most part, this doesn’t happen, and most of the emotional pain comes from knowing that she still may sometimes lapse back into her thoughts about him out of sheer habit.

who is emotionally stronger?: Probably you. Harley knows her emotions and may be good at analyzing others’ due to her time as a psychologist, but she’s definitely got some baggage that she’s not addressing or even may be convincing herself that there’s no such baggage to speak of. Either way, her time with Joker has definitely made things inside worse for wear.

who is physically stronger?: Harley. She is canonically a skilled gymnast and that shit takes a lot of upper body strength. Don’t be shocked if she picks you up to twirl you around.

who is more likely to break a bone?: Harley, but even then it’s rare. It’s usually only if she gets too excited that she doesn’t pay attention, or tries an aerial scarf stunt and falls. Or tries to “villain jump.”

who knows best what to say to upset the other?: Harley can be extremely vexing and lacks most of her filter, especially in Suicide Squad. But when it comes to you, she really doesn’t mean to hurt you. She’s just so used to not having to care about what she says or does that it just slips out due to habit. This is no excuse, of course, but only an explanation.

who is most likely to apologize first after an argument?: Harley will pout and even throw a tantrum, but once she comes to her (few) senses, she’s more likely to approach you. Especially if she’s the one who started it.

who treats who’s wounds more often?: You often have to patch her up after her stunts go wrong or if she’s gotten into a fight. Or at least, you try to. Sometimes she’ll just try to distract you by pulling you into a kiss.

who is in constant need of comfort?: Harley, even though she may not acknowledge it. She may be crazy, but she’s pretty damaged from her abusive relationship and it shows.

who gets more jealous?: Harley. You both know that she’s a very attractive woman and can’t help it when people stare (hell, even while knowing she’s attractive, she doesn’t intentionally mean to draw attention at every little thing she does). But once she’s into someone, she’s devoted to them through thick and thin. Which is why if someone threatens to come between you, she’ll freak out and start planning their demise or will pester them to leave.

who’s most likely to walk out on the other?: If she ever falls back into her old habits, there isn’t a doubt in your mind that Harley would leave you to return back to Joke. And it hurts. But on the other side, Harley also fears you’ll leave her because of who she is, both as a villain and due to her mental state and how problematic it can be for the both of you.

who will propose?: Harley. She may be loopy, but she still desperately wishes for a normal life. And if a normal life means settling down with you and bringing children into the picture and getting a nice little home with a white picket fence, then she’s gonna do it, dagnabbit! … But she’s probably gonna propose in some overdone way. Like paint it on a billboard. Or vandalize Wayne Tower so that everyone will know she loves you just that much. It’s not even necessarily out of malice, she just wants the whole world (or, at least, Gotham) to know how crazy for you she is and that she wants to turn over a new leaf – with you.

who has the most difficult parents?: We don’t know anything about Harley’s parents, so maybe you? However, it’s possible that they’re not really in the picture or weren’t the most affectionate of people, considering how readily willing Harley was to join Joker and how desperately she sought out his love and approval

who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public?: Assuming that somehow she’s able to walk about freely, it’d be Harley. She’s always gotta be toughing you. The cute thing is, if she’s holding your hand she’ll start swinging it and there’s a lot more bounce in her step.

who hogs the blankets?: Neither. Harley loves cuddling up to you and is satisfied getting warmth from that. Besides, she’s used to not having blankets around due to her time in Belle Reve.

who gets more sad?: Both of you are pretty close. Harley doesn’t like to acknowledge how saddened she is that she let her life get so out of control for someone who only wound up screwing her over. She wants to better her life but she’s terrified that maybe it’s too late for her, and then she’s never get that normal life she wanted, therefore not being able to stay with you. Meanwhile, you feel horrible that Harley’s still in a state of trying to do better but still falling into her old habits. You fear for her, that she’ll one day revert back completely, then leave and you’ll never be able to see her again besides in the news for getting incarcerated or worse.

who is better at cheering the other up?: Actually, it’s you! Harley may make you laugh, but she’s an acquired taste. So seeing her upset makes you feel upset; it’s just not natural. She’s so used to being the silly one that seeing you pull out all the stops on trying to make her laugh just warms her up inside and she’s just gotta smother you in kisses because you’re her lil puddin’ cupcake!

who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?: Both of you, but more so Harley. You both love a good laugh, so hearing one causes the both of you to resort to physical approval. Harley more so resorts to slaps because she doesn’t have as much composure and just don’t care to have it: if you find a joke that funny, you ought to show your love for it.

who is more streetwise?: Her time with the Joker definitely opened her eyes a bit more … 

who is more wise?: It’s a weird but sensible tie. You have a wiseness about decorum, and Harley is academically wise and good with reading people when she chooses to actually act upon it.

who’s the shyest?: Definitely you. Harley knows no shyness and is big and loud about everything she’s into. Including you. She thinks your shyer attributes are the cutest darn things and she’ll be so outspoken about it that you’ll become ever shyer.

who boasts about the other more?: “Floyd. Hey, Floyd!! Lookit my puddin’ cupcake in this picture!! She fell asleep watchin’ TV with a Hot Pocket on her chest!! Isn’t she the cutest!?” (Seriously, she bombards the rest of the Task Force with photos of you that’s she’s taken with and without your acknowledgement)

who sits on who’s lap?: Harley loves sitting on your lap so she can cuddle up to you and nuzzle your neck.

#harley quinn x reader #harleen quinzel x reader #harley quinn headcanons #suicide squad headcanons #ship meme #suicide squad imagine #suicide squad imagines #dceu image #dceu imagines #harley qunn x reader headcanon #character hc meme

[choicest-fics]

Date Night

Date night was absurd. It wasn’t any different than the normal things they did. It wasn’t as if they could go out in public and be together the way they wanted to. But Saeran humored Saeyoung, it made him happy, even if it made Saeran grumpy. He finished getting dressed, looking at himself in the mirror. He felt ridiculous. He wore a soft pink dress shirt, Saeyoung said it accentuated his mint green eyes. He brushed his unruly hair, but eventually gave up. He strapped his black collar on and put his eyeliner on. He contemplated redoing his nails, but decided against it. He didn’t have time to let them dry.

There was a soft knock on his door and Saeran rolled his eyes. He opened it and Saeyoung stood there in a formfitting burgundy dress, his red wig on, glasses gone. His amber eyes were bright and excited.

Saeran snorted.

Saeyoung’s face fell.

“Oh, hey, no, you look beautiful.” He stroked Saeyoung’s cheek and stepped up to him, taking him in his arms and kissing him gently. Saeyoung’s smile came right back, along with his excitement.

“You look really handsome too, I love that color on you.” Saeyoung brushed imaginary lint off Saeran’s shoulders.

“I know, that’s why I wore it.”

Saeyoung’s eyes lit up and he stole another kiss before holding his arm out for Saeran.

“I think I’m the one that has to do that.” Saeran teased.

“Don’t make this about gender!” Saeyoung fumed, grabbing Saeran’s arm and leading him towards the dining room. Saeran laughed and allowed himself to be led by his erratic and genderbending brother.

Saeyoung practically dragged Saeran down the hall, he threw open the door dramatically. “Ta Da!” he exclaimed and stepped aside to let Saeran in.

Saeran stepped inside and his eyes went wide. When had Saeyoung had time for this? There was a fancy red tablecloth on the small table, candles burning in candle holders, china plates set out and crystal goblets. There was a six pack of Dr. Peppers in a silver ice bucket, and a crystal bowl full of honey buddha chips. The silverware was real silver and gleamed in the firelight. On a silver tray sat Big Macs and fries, there was also a single box of a 10 piece McNuggets. The chairs were covered in a silky red cloth and pink fabric napkins placed under the silverware.

Saeyoung had put up streamers and balloons, which did not match the fancy table, but made the room look festive and carefree.

“Do you like it?” Saeyoung asked. He bit his lips and clasped his hands together. He began to chew his lip nervously. He knew it was silly, but, he had wanted it to feel like a real restaurant. Ok, maybe he had overdone it with the streamers and balloons, making it look more like a birthday party than a romantic dinner date.

Saeran turned to him, his jaw on the ground. He hugged Saeyoung and whispered in his ear, “I love it. But, I don’t see any ice cream.” He complained. Saeyoung cupped Saeran’s face and kissed his nose.

“It’s in the freezer silly. Eat your food first.” He took Saeran’s hand and pulled out a chair for him. Saeran sat and Saeyoung plopped himself on his lap. “I’ll feed you.” He said with a giggle.

“Can you even see? Where are your glasses?” Saeran asked, one hand on Saeyoung’s lower back, the other on his thigh. He slid his hand up and down Saeyoung’s back, realizing easily that he was not wearing any underwear. His cock began to stir, but he tamped down his excitement, date night first, or he would never hear the end of it.

“I can see just fine, thank you very much!” Saeyoung scoffed then poured the fries onto the crystal plate. “Do you prefer a burger or the nuggets?” he asked seriously.

“Hmmm, nuggets please.” Saeran grinned.

“What kind of sauce? I have BBQ, Ranch, Chipotle, ketchup…” he arched his eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“BBQ please, and ketchup for the fries.”

“Excellent choice!” Saeyoung’s movements grazed against his semi hard cock and it was making Saeran sweat.

Before long, Saeyoung dipped a nugget into the sauce and brought it to Saeran’s lips. He waited for him to open his mouth and he placed it in far enough for Saeran to bite it. He had a half smile on his face as he watched Saeran chew the tasty meat. Before he could swallow, Saeyoung leaned in and kissed his glistening lips. Damn, he needed more self-control. He wanted this night to go off smoothly. He pulled back reluctantly, but it was difficult not to lean in again when Saeran groaned in disappointment, his tongue running along his bottom lip. He could feel that Saeran was having the same difficulty between his legs. Maybe he should sit on his own chair. Nah!

He fed Saeran and Saeran fed him, holding a burger up to his lips and watching him take a large bite, his cheeks expanding to accommodate the chunk. They giggled and snorted, washing down their greasy fare with Dr. Peppers drunk from the crystal goblets.

“Where did you even get all of this?” Saeran asked, knowing that although his brother could probably afford it all, he wasn’t the type to spend money on these things. Gadgets and cars, yes, but not tableware.

“Jumin let me borrow them.” Saeyoung said too fast. Saeran’s eyebrows furrowed and his eyes narrowed.

“Did he now?”

“Mmhhm.” Saeyoung took a long drink from his glass.

“Saeyoung, did you break into Jumin’s apartment and steal all this?”

“I would never! How dare you accuse me of…” he stopped and bit his lower lip at Saeran’s look, “Maybe…I’ll put it back! It’s not as if he’s going to miss it! He never entertains!” Saeyoung pouted.

Saeran laughed, he didn’t really care, but one of these days Jumin was going to catch Saeyoung and he was not going to be nice. Of course, he wouldn’t blame Jumin, Saeyoung would just have to live with the consequences. How the hell had he gotten into Jumin’s apartment anyway? There were security guards posted at the door and the lobby and they all had pictures of Saeyoung. He shook his head, he didn’t want to know.

Instead he asked, “Can we have ice cream now?” Saeyoung’s eyes lit up. He jumped off Saeran and dragged him to the kitchen. He took out two tubs and two spoons then ran down the hallway. Saeran was confused. Saeyoung’s head popped around the corner, “Follow me!” he yelled. Saeran huffed but followed his brother, he did not go back into the dining room. He went straight to his room. Saeran was confused but he followed him anyway. He had set down the tubs on the dresser and was unzipping his dress, or trying to. Saeran replaced his hands, brushing his long hair over his shoulder and unzipped him, pushing the sleeve off his shoulder and kissing the freckled skin. Saeyoung sighed and leaned back into his brother.

They let the dress fall and Saeran realized he’d been right, Saeyoung was not wearing any underwear, but he was wearing stockings that attached to lacy white garters around his thighs. Damn, he looked tastier than the ice cream.

Saeyoung turned to him and pushed him away. “Your turn.” Saeran looked at him confused. Saeyoung opened the tubs and stuck a spoon into the strawberry ice cream and licked the spoon clean as he watched his brother. He pointed at him with the spoon. “Strip! We’re having naked ice cream.” Saeyoung beamed. Saeran rolled his eyes but complied. Once he was naked he grabbed the other spoon and dipped it into the mint chocolate chip tub. He savored the cold dessert on his tongue and hummed appreciatively.

Saeyoung took his spoon and flung the strawberry ice cream on Saeran’s chest. Saeran gasped and his eyes flew wide. Before he could complain, Saeyoung was licking it off his skin. The mixture of the cold ice cream and Saeyoung’s hot tongue was intoxicating.

“Yum.” Saeyoung exclaimed.

“Was that tasty?” Saeran grinned at his brother. Saeyoung put the spoon in his mouth and sucked on it, nodding suggestively at Saeran.

Saeran scooped out more ice cream and spread it on his hardening cock. He gasped at the coldness, but it did not affect his erection in the least. Saeyoung’s eyes gleamed, he took off the wig and knelt in front of Saeran. Keeping his eyes on his brother’s mint green ones, he licked his cock like a popsicle, completely missing the ice cream. He grinned at Saeran as he took him in his mouth, gobbling him and the ice cream up slowly and sensuously. His hands were on Saeran’s thighs and he dug his fingers into the soft flesh. Saeran fisted a chunck of Saeyoung’s hair and yanked on it gently. Saeyoung hummed, making Saeran’s cock vibrate.

“Fuck Saeyoung!”

“Mmm.” Saeyoung popped his cock out of his mouth and looked up at Saeran. “More!” he ordered. Saeran panted and grabbed another scoop of ice cream. He slid it into his mouth and sucked it off the spoon. Saeyoung’s eyes devoured the sight, his nails leaving crescent moons on Saeran’s light skin, angry and red.

Another scoop hovered over Saeyoung’s mouth and he opened it, Saeran let the dollop plop off the spoon, Saeyoung catching it and immediately taking him back into his mouth. The cold ice cream hit Saeran’s tip and he shivered, needing to lean against the dresser to hold himself up.

“Hhhaahhhh!” Saeyoung swirled his tongue around his cock, coating it with the still cool ice cream. Saeran felt as if there was steam coming off his skin. Saeyoung moved his hands around Saeran and grasped his ass. He sucked and licked Saeran’s cock, increasing the pressure with each bob. Saeyoung was loud, enjoying the taste of his brother and the ice cream. His moans vibrated through Saeran’s body. When he felt that Saeran was close, he dropped him.

“Hnngghh! Fuck! Saeyoung! You ass! Finish me!” Saeran shoved Saeyoung’s face into his cock but Saeyoung didn’t continue. Saeran tossed him aside and turned away from him. Digging into the ice cream in frustration. Saeyoung laughed and stood up, wrapping his arms around his brother. He lay his cheek on Saeran’s shoulders and hummed contentedly.

“You suck.” Saeran stated.

“And you love it.” Saeyoung added.

“Yes, I do, so why did you stop?” Saeran complained.

“I wanted more ice cream.” Saeyoung replied, grabbing his spoon and taking another scoop.

Saeran turned towards his brother, his mint green eyes softening, his mouth in an easy smile. He pulled him into a hug and began to nibble on his neck, then he bit the flesh, eliciting a gasp and pleasurable whine from Saeyoung. “Do you know what I want more than ice cream?” Saeran asked against his taught skin, his lips still cool from the ice cream.

“What?” Saeyoung breathed, his chest rising and falling, goosebumps spreading throughout his body.

“For you to fuck me.” Saeran whispered in Saeyoung’s ear, biting the lobe and stretching it out till it plopped out of his mouth.

Saeyoung grinned, a lustful look in his eyes, he tossed the spoon over his shoulder and he pushed Saeran onto the bed, smacking his ass and grabbing the flesh greedily.

“Your wish is my command!” Saeyoung crooned and stepped onto the bed. He grabbed the lube on the nightstand and began to prepare Saeran for entry. His fingers flashed in and out of Saeran’s ass and he was rewarded with a delicious string of expletives and moans. Saeran cussed up a storm during sex. The more he cussed, the cruder he got, the better he felt.

“Ahh, yes! Fuck Sae….Ahh, shit, hrmmm…” Saeran dug his nails into the bed. Saeyoung sped up his pumping, adding a third finger, he cocked his fingertips causing Saeran to scream, throwing his head back, arching his back and panting rapidly.

“Haahhh!! Son of a BITCH! FUCK! God Damn it! Shit Shit Shit! I want your cock in me! I want it now! Fuck Sae…UHHH…You motherfucking TEASE! I hate you! Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” he grabbed a pillow and bit into it, gnashing his teeth and growling.

Saeyoung slipped his digits out, Saeran’s rant making his cock itch to fill his brother up. He rammed himself into Saeran, slamming his cock inside him all the way to his base.

“Hahhh! Hmmm!” Saeyoung groaned, vocalizing his pleasure loudly.

Saeran’s breath seized at the moment of Saeyoung’s entry. His asshole burned with the full thrust, but suddenly his brain felt fuzzy and his body was experiencing an electric shock. He pushed his ass against Saeyoung, relishing his brother’s erotic vocals.

“Fuck Me! Fuck ME HARD! Fucking FUCK ME! SHIT! AHHHH! YESS!” Saeran was rendered into a babbling incoherent mess. He reached for his cock and began to stroke himself. He wanted to cum with his brother and he could tell he was close.

Sweat was dripping from his thick locks and he had to drop down on his elbow, his arm beginning to wobble.

“Ahh! YES!” Saeyoung came, releasing his hot stream into Saeran and feeling it drip down his thighs. He kept pumping until his cock was empty, his body shuddering with his orgasm. He felt his brother’s body convulse beneath him and knew he’d cum too. They both collapsed, exhausted.

“Where’s my ice cream?” Saeran sighed, shifting under Saeyoung. Saeyoung chuckled but scooted off Saeran. He grabbed a dirty t-shirt and cleaned himself off, he tossed it to Saeran so he could do the same. He picked up the tubs, the ice cream was a lot softer now, and the one spoon, they would have to share. He scooted next to Saeran, who was now sitting against the headboard. He put the tubs down between them and they took turns feeding each other. There was a lot of cool kisses in between.

Saeran had to admit, this date night hadn’t been so bad.

#Choicest #Saeyoung #Saeran #SaeyoungxSaeran

[shinthedancer-blog]

Begin The Beguine|Chapter 1|Kohana

So that was. Something.

Shin had stood by quietly, eyebrows raised, watching their so called host explain things. Guess there had been a perfectly reasonable explanation for why they were all stuck out here as of now. There usually was. Natsume would be relieved to hear. What occupied her thoughts more than her partner’s state of mind though, was the so called Fool’s costume choices. Cliffside itself had given a hint at how much stock the school put in staying within the theme of their graduation party, and it seemed they would extend this to the staff. Good. Shin didn’t really like when people didn’t commit to their chosen presentation, some middle aged man in a suit telling them how to do things would’ve really broken immersion. Or…. If you could call it that, given that there was a fast food restaurant in her sights and none of them had exactly been given renaissance costumes to wear. Hell, maybe this was why the bus ride had been such a peculiar one, to give them the impression they’d actually travelled through time….. Hah. Look at her. Just coming from this not being the big conspiracy some of the others seemed to have made it out to be, and going straight to sleep gas. Or better yet, sleeping magic. Hey, renaissance theme, eh?

As of right now though, one step at a time. Once the Fool had finished their speech, Shin hadn’t even waited to watch them walk away and instead turned on her heels and headed for her bags quickly. And indeed she had found the things their host had mentioned. A tablet (talk about breaking immersion) an envelope and a pouch with some gold coins. She switched on the tablet and took a quick glance at the maps. Yup. Just about what she could see herself. She shut it off again quickly, having lost interest almost immediately. She’d get to know her surroundings on eye level thank you very much. Maps were for when you got too lost to figure it out yourself, and the area was too small for that.

What was more important was the key contained in the envelope. Still kneeling in front of her bag, she took a closer look at it. There was a design on it that looked familiar. A sort of. Stick? Thought she’d seen that somewhere before. Her eyes were drawn to the cottages. Made sense, yeah. Getting up and hoisting her bag up on her shoulder, she decided the first logical step would be getting to whichever one of those was hers.

It didn’t take long to find the cottage with the matching symbol on its doorframe. Pretty central, between some other cottages, but aside from smaller details like the carving on its doorframe mirroring the design on her key, it looked much the same as the others. Small, cute houses. Renaissance themed. What else was new.

The key fit in perfectly and with a click, she unlocked the door, wasting no time to push it open and step inside.

The inside was slightly cooler, and Shin welcomed the change in temperature after being out in the sun for so long, even though its absence meant she had to stay in the doorway and blink a few times trying to adjust to the slightly darker interior. When she had, she couldn’t help but be…. A little disappointed? Things looked nice, cozy, but decidedly modern. Not that she’d been looking forward to living under the same conditions people had centuries ago, but still, the presence of modern amenities was sort of a let down. Ah well. Least there was running water this way.

The first place she headed to was the bedroom, where she was greeted with a twin sized bunk bed. Right. Two people per cottage, huh? Well, the Fool had said something about wanting them to get along, so Natsume should be here any second. Little did she doubt that she’d been grouped with her. Come on, it was just easiest.

After unceremoniously throwing her luggage on the lower bed entirely because it was easier to, she looked around the room a little more. Huh. Looked like they’d gotten their hands on some of her stuff. That poster on the wall, advertising the great “Gun Crazy” was usually in her bedroom. Or, well, one just like it. And upon closer inspection, it seemed they’d gotten a DVD of it to, among others. “Gilda”, “The Third Man”, “The Blue Dahlia”….. all there, on the desk the poster was hanging over. Made her wonder if there was a TV. If there was then come on, that would be sort of dumb. But if there wasn’t then putting all these movies here had been pretty much useless. So, also not a smart move. Putting the DVD down, she turned to the other desk, figuring it’d belong to Natsume then. She’d assumed things had been tailored to their interests, so when a short glance revealed books, writing utensils, a small white statue showing some sort of lightly clothed lady (what?)- Shin frowned. Maybe not Natsume, huh. Unless she had gotten an interest in…. Shin picked up one of the books. “De Bello Gallico”. Flipping it open revealed similar letters, but the words didn’t make sense. Something western, but not English or even Italian, though it had more similarities to that at least. Hm. Well look at that. SOMEONE had an interest in ancient stuff. Wonder who that may be. Glancing at the other books pretty quickly  reaffirmed it, someone was a buff in ancient history. What a coincidence. Guess the Fool thought Natsume and her were sort of overdone as a pair, huh? Time for some changes to be made? Still, what a huge coincidence that she’d be paired with someone she’d literally just been talking to. Unless there was someone else here who just thought latin was super amazing.

It was at this point, still looking at the book in her hands, that Shin heard a sound from the door and turned. Right, hadn’t ever bothered to close the door. And there she was, then. Her new roommate.

Shin’s frown turned into a grin quickly at the presence of an audience, her somewhat stiff posture relaxing into a more casual lean against the desk, book still in her hand.

“Well look who it is. Figures I’d run into ya again so soon, Kohana.”

She tilted her head slightly, and a mischievous glint came to her eyes.

“Must be fate, huh? Or maybe just our host tryin ta mix things up a lil.”

The latter statement was accompanied by a shrug, and finally she put the book back down on the desk and headed towards her new roommate, hand outstretched towards her luggage.

“Lemme get that for ya! Top or bottom?”

Shin herself had no strong feelings on the matter, even though her bag was already lying square on the bottom bunk.

#ic #kohana wakahisa #chapter 1