#but i also think curtain probably wouldn't send him because most of his mistakes were from being excessively brainswept

[sophieswundergarten]

Guess what it's my blog and we're going to talk about the Waiting Room now.

In the show, it seems rather boring at first glance. However, this is a LIE because they want to throw you off. There's only one chair, and it has a short leg. There's a weird spirograph-type piece of art on the wall. There's a fish tank, for some reason. There's a bunch of very strange shelves. And there's a giant clock on the wall. THIS IS NOT ALL. The normal entry door is invisible due to the paneling, and the back wall MOVES. It is also possible the clock moves to create loss of time and the floor slants, although these might be stress-induced hallucination. It is a perfectly designed horror liminal space, and, depending on who you put in there and why, I'm fairly certain it can be defined as psychological torture. It evokes the same kind of discomfort and lack of control that a convict being placed in solitary confinement experiences.

HOWEVER

In the books, it is entirely different, and arguably worse. Again, depending on the person. In the books, it is a completely dark room full of slimy black mud that isn't thick enough to stand on. It is also a very deep pit of mud, so anyone who enters for a period of time slowly starts sinking. It also has bugs in it.

Now. If you are not the type of person who is terrified of who you are waiting for, or if you are a person who typically enjoys defying the conventional, the show version shouldn't be much of an issue. The chair doesn't work? Find a way to fix it, or sit on the floor. The room is obviously set up so you have to face whoever is going to enter? Face the other direction. Look at the fish. Sit on the really weird and randomly empty shelves. There are many things that can be done physically about what the room is doing to you mentally. It is also easier for the people who are putting you through this ordeal to rationalize. "It's just an oddly decorated waiting room. There's nothing that bad about waiting"

But the book version is another story. One that I have many questions about. One, we learn later on that the mud is created and maintained by the room being connected to an underground stream. (It takes a long time to swim/dig through the mud and other obstacles to reach the stream, so it is not a viable escape option for anyone but Milligan) It also, as previously mentioned, houses a lot of bugs. We do not know what kind of bugs these are. And yet, since they are alive, they must be living off of something in there. Most bugs cannot just live off of mud. So, either the Executives are having to refresh the bug population from time to time (And where would they get the bugs? Do they collect them? Does Curtain purchase them and have them shipped to the island? Does no one question this?) Or the Waiting Room is its own mainly self-contained ecosystem. My prevailing tentative theory is that it was designed for research/as a science experiment and then either abandoned until Curtain needed somewhere to keep people or he deliberately made the decision that it was part of his interrogation methods for the agents he captured (before he brainswept them) and then he simply extended the use to interrogating students.

BUT ALSO

How did Curtain in the book convince teenagers/young adults to leave children in there? It is an entirely different ballgame to tell someone (especially a younger person who hasn't quite got the morals beaten out of them yet) that it is completely safe and not at all detrimental to leave ELEVEN YEAR OLDS in a pitch-black room of slimy mud and unknown creatures for any period of time! That must have left some damage to the Executives, or maybe they had already experienced it and were afraid to be threatened with it again. Either way, that's such a terrifying thing to anyone, especially a child, and especially since they seemed to choose to leave kids in there overnight (Maybe so it wouldn't interfere with too many classes?) and they wouldn't get any sleep. AND THEN the meaner Executives and Curtain would GASLIGHT THEM. "It's not such a bad place" "Nobody likes to wait, but it didn't hurt you" "Waiting can be unpleasant, but sometimes there's no help for it" and whatever else they said. We don't even hear about the Waiting Room from Sticky or one of the other kids who've been sentenced; they just get extremely upset and start crying.

What I'm saying is, while it was a very clever narrative tool and an unconventional way to raise stakes without causing physical harm to children, I can see why it was toned down for the show. However, I think it is a fascinating bit of plot that can be examined in a lot of different ways.

#also i'm not that scared of bugs #so i'd mostly be upset by the texture of the mud (it sounded so gross) and the anxiety it caused me #i'd still prefer the show version though #i'd just sit next to the fish tank #however those specific type of lights make my insides want to shrivel up and die #so i'd be very unhappy either way #and also i just hate the shelves #they're dumb #i was trying to go back through book one and see if s. q. ever mentions going to the waiting room #but i couldn't find anything #it would be an interesting situation #but i also think curtain probably wouldn't send him because most of his mistakes were from being excessively brainswept #but poor sticky was terrified from the mere mention of the waiting room and also the sole member who would have the hardest time #i think some of it is because he felt like he needed to be “normal” aside from his intelligence #so he never let himself explore out of the box solutions #or do things like sit on the floor to avoid the chair #but i was proud of him for the button idea! #mbs #the mysterious benedict society #no this wasn't brought on by @nobody33333333's latest chapter of “S.O.S” and what kind of science would explain it in-story #shush

[justformyself2]

Rainstorm

Yep. I'm a grown adult, but i feel like i need to tell you not to tell my mom. That is all I'm going to say.

WARNING: +18 READING. Probably some grammar mistakes ♥

John Krasinski x Reader.

Masterlist for more

You remain in the same position, missing countings of having to re-read the same phrase at the top of the page. He is watching you, and it burns, mostly because you were about to give in and were, still, putting up a stupid fight against yourself.

He wasn't playing your games anymore. There was another field being stepped on, other than the childish silent treatment phase, followed by the disgraceful conversation.

You disguised yourself in doing other 'chores' instead of enjoying every little bit of time left with him before LA could come in between and settle you two into the silent treatment for good.

John gets up from behind the desk on the other side of the room, where he stayed most of the time, where you had caught him ignoring his laptop more than once to look at you. He simply marks while making you catch on fire.

So that was the subtle game he was playing, testing you, bending you like a fragile stick, not even using much strength.

Him putting on that black tank top, generous with the view of his new figure, a result of intense hours of training for another movie. It wasn't as if you didn't like him either way, but the combo of letting the beard grow gave him a darker tone you weren't expecting to enjoy.

Another thing you wouldn't expect is his anterior baby boy face to try to get you back with sex, but this new him you didn't know, you only assumed, because that's what you wanted him to do, putting out the dripping agony between your legs.

He could have, probably or definitely, observed the way you clenched early this morning when he got back after jogging, dripping in sweat, taking his shirt off, entering the kitchen, a place supposed to be a neutral zone. 'Unintentionally.' he pressed his body against your back when reaching for a green juice on the fridge while you were trying to grab the chicken breast.

His fingers cupped your waist, and the warmth stayed there. The tingling, his back, and every little patch of skin walking away from the kitchen trapped into your mind. How did he get so many muscles?

With each and every little innocent touch, every other time you were sleeping on the only bed left on that chalé you rented, far away from the mess of New York City, and he would press his hardness against your bottom, became harder to redeem your choice of staying mad, and remembering to stay that way.

He should have known better than siding with your mom against you, especially in intimate conversations, but every now and then he got carried away by your mother's ways, inviting and manipulative.

Talking about inviting and manipulative, you watch John changing his route towards the bed where you were and walking towards the window on the right.

"Shit, it is going to pour out here."

You could curse.

Deciding the actually leave the book and getting up, you seek shelter from leaving the environment when a loud thunder strikes and the lights go out, stopping you in the hallway towards the small living room, shared with the kitchen.

The fragile moonlight coming through the windows was enough to, at least, guide you two close them when the wind started to get intense.

"Maybe I go should check the fuses?"

You didn't think he was serious, and he didn't seem to be when another violent thunder struck.

Was he checking if you still cared about him enough not to send him outside to get hit by lightning?

He closes the last window in the living room part.

"Are you insane?"

There is still a little bit more annoyance in your voice than you wanted.

The kitchen curtains start to be lifted like they are electrified, making you, in a stupid, impulsive way, run towards them and ignore the existence of the step up to the kitchen part.

Your knees hit the edge floor, as also did the palm of your hands, absorbing the fall.

"FUCK!"

"Baby, what happened?"

"WHO THE FUCK PUT THIS FUCKING STEP HERE?"

"Fuck, I can't see a damn thing. Where the fuck did I put my phone?"

"Why do you need a phone?"

"For the flashlight."

"I'm five steps away from you, seriously."

You sit to start rubbing on your knees in a tentative to ease the pain.

"What if I trip on you." You hear his voice coming closer.

"I'll kill you, but I'm fine. I just need a minute." Another thunder strikes lighting up the room, and he spots you for a couple of seconds.

"Do you think you can close the windows?" You ask, hearing the sound of the trees being shaken by the wind.

"Fuck the windows."

There is the sound of his steps coming closer, and you know he crouched down by the vibration of your own body recognizing his, something that wasn't new, but got enhanced by the darkness you two were under, as also did his smell.

It isn't fair.

"John-"

"Shush, come here."

You feel like a child, putting up your arms around his shoulder, after some guidance from his own hands that afterward cupped down the sides of your breasts down towards your waist, and finally, he easily lifts you, keeping you locked against his chest. His hand makes a slow wandering on your back, and you found yourself subconsciously doing the same thing on his naked arms.

"Don't shus-"

He is quicker than your words, and you wouldn't complain, conquering your mouth as his in a battle you didn't want to win.

The wind whistles through the windows, but you could let it bring down the house if it meant John would continue to bite down your lips while moaning.

No underclothing could prevent him from reaching any part of you without ceremony, but he is slow in a way you have to take his hands and put it in on your breasts, making him chuckle.

"For someone who is mad at me."

He takes advantage of your needs, but two could play the game.

"I can stop if you want, and we can go back the way we were."

You bluff, placing all the convincing in your voice since he couldn't see your face, but you could tell he had that jerk smirk.

His answer came in the form of his fingers invading your pajama shorts, you foolishly try to move away, lazily, and his other hand puts you in place while you feel his thumb caressing your clit.

"Are you sure that is what you really want? You know, you just have to tell me."

His low deep tone fogs your brain completely, and he is quick to realize this fact, so he goes back to attacking your lying mouth, left with no other task than moaning for him, but your hands were eager and truthful. You conquer his moans by stroking him through the sweatpants.

"Oh...Fuck! I was starving for this. You really have no idea, looking at you every day, walking on this fucking see-through shirt practically all-day and denying me to touch you, to kiss you."

He bites your shoulder, releasing another moan when your hand reaches under his underwear.

"It is not like you weren't trying to torture me too, eye-fucking me all day, walking around the house semi-naked, dripping in sweat. I will never forgive how fucking hot you look with a beard. I thought I would hate it, and now I just want to feel it in the middle of my tights."

"So we think alike."

"I think we not gonna make it to the bed, and the couch is too small."

"Then floor it is."

Retrieving yours and his hands, he proceeds to grab you by the ass with both hands, lifting you.

Your legs know the way around his waist, and his mouth knows the way towards your breasts. Over the thin fabric t-shirt, he displays fragile bites while crouching down with you on his lap.

When your bottom touches the floor, carefully, you feel his hand on both sides of your body, ready to get rid of your shirt, and with your help, it comes out easily.

John hums in approval, and so does you when his hands are replaced with the warm wetness of his mouth over your nipples.

The summer rain starts to fall heavy outside while your back starts to rest down against the wood floor slowly.

With your spine flat on the floor, he decides to start to travel down with less routine than you expected, undressing you of your shorts.

John could be methodical, but it seems that he didn't lie about being ravenous for you, but he couldn't skip the foreplay, that would be the true sin.

He goes down towards your navel, and you couldn't decide if it was hotter with the absence of the lights or not; It did enhance each feeling, every swirl of his tongue, every wet sound and taste, but you craved to see his hazel eyes, burning with pure lust to see you squirming under his mouth.

You don't know who or what to thank when the moonlight persevered over whatever cloud blocking it, lighting up the room decently enough to let you capture, even if wouldn't last long, the glistening of his tongue entering you at the exact moment.

You wanted to open your eyes, tell him to look up at you, but you underestimated the power abstinence could have. Now you could really comprehend his lack of ceremony.

"Fuck! Shit... John!."

Through your closed eyelids, you welcome back the darkness, missing the opportunity given by the moon, getting clouded like your thoughts. She would have to be merciful when you could even miss your name. She would have to be more merciful than John, which adds a finger to his torture, curling it up inside you, moaning against your clit.

You coming undone was a matter of seconds.

He tries his best to put you in place when the orgasm hits, but he ruins it, retrieving his stokes and tongue at the peak.

"What the fuck!" You don't' even have the strength to get your torso up.

"Oh, you really thought you were getting away with being punished?"

He grabs your thighs, while you layed, spread open for him. You really could escape in the dark and lock him outside the bedroom to figure out the rest with his hand.

When the thought started to sound like a plan you find the strength needed to get up at least your torso, but with your rough movements, he quickly catches up, gripping hard on your thighs and bringing forward towards his lap.

You figured he waited for you to leave since he was already in the position to land you on top of his hardness, as you were.

"You son of b-."

He grabs your ass, forcing it down on him, causing an inevitable moan to occur since you were already sensitive.

"Be a good girl for me, and I will compensate you, baby. I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you this so many times. It is like you want me to punish you."

The moon now betrays you, showing up in a time you were vulnerable, letting him picture your face while your body melted in his arms, and all of him that was so fucking inviting and undeniable.

"Do what you want with me."

With his eyes boring into yours, John lays you down, proceeding to get out of his remaining clothes completely. You couldn't believe how insanely good he looked; the moonlight could be fooling you.

Watching his cock pops out of the underwear, you could feel the wet agony forming between your legs all over again, like the heavy rain outside.

There isn't another word when the connection of your eyes was held strong, until he inclined forward, placing himself where he belonged, inside you, and your vision got compromised as he merciless pounded his pelvis against yours.

"Christ!"

He growls like an animal, just from being inside of you.

"Make it last, Krasinski."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckles.

Getting a better position with his arms on the sides of your head, he places one under your neck for comfort.

Your legs wrapped around his waist deepened his movements, and soon he was hitting places unknown to you.

"Oh... fuck, that's it right there, don't stop."

You couldn't control, taking advantage of the rain, muffling your pleadings, and also did he, what ironically made you mad at the rain.

He wasn't much vocal, and it didn't bother you till now when his moans were eating your brain out from logic.

"God, you are getting wetter by the second." He says, then kisses your lips before closing his eyes, increasing the strokes. "Is it cause you are now how you are supposed to be? Full of me, and only me."

Now you were the one hungry for his mouth, grabbing on his beard slightly hard to bring towards your face. His tongue is avid, his free hand goes towards your clit, and it's too much.

His mouth parts from yours.

"Cum on my dick, baby, cum for me so I can fill you up like you want me to."

You cry it out, feeling every cell of your body ready to obey him, to please him, and it doesn't take too long when your legs started to shake, and this time he goes all the way with it, letting to lose a bit of movement only when his own orgasm reached. You kiss him, deeply, while he still thrust into you randomly.

His moans vibrating in your mouth, till he quiets down, parting the kiss.

He smirked at you.

"Do you remember when you told me that fucking during a rainstorm was your fantasy?"

#john krasinski #john krasinski imagine #john krasinskixreader #imagine #+18