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all-mirth-no-matter · 3 months

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Time After Time | Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: A new threat comes to town, and a new applicant comes to the pub.

Warning: language, mentions of assault-ish

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Chapter 16: Fear & Delight

I don’t show it but I quiver whenever you come near. And I cannot decipher between the thrill and the fear. I wanna stop it but like it too much to let it stop here. It’s wrong but I want you tonight. It’s not my own volition but I fell in deep, by running the distance I’ve been advised to keep. I trot to the wolf like a doting sheep, it’s wrong but I want you tonight. — Fear & Delight, The Correspondents

There was news from Belfast.

There was no way for you to anticipate the severity of what this actually meant when you heard a Shelby family counsel had been called. Apparently Arthur wanted you there specifically, which of course caused you some unease.

While the oldest Shelby brother hadn’t called you a whore recently (at least not to your face), he still hadn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms into their business. Over the last month, you’d noticed an uncomfortable power dynamic shift between Arthur and Tommy. One that you were sure Arthur wasn’t too happy about.

For a moment, you wondered if it had anything to do with your incident with Benji — something you still dreamed about. There was a looming ache in your heart that you imagined wouldn’t go way any time soon.

“Eight o’clock,” Tommy said again, his voice low against the hum of the busy patrons of the Garrison. You nodded, continuing to wipe down the glassware. “I already told Harry, he’ll cover.”

You gave him a disapproving look, still unhappy with the way he seemed to go about handling your pub-related business with Harry. But Tommy brushed you off.

The man you recognized as Freddie stood up from his table in the back. Discreetly, you looked between him and Tommy, trying to busy yourself.

You weren’t sure if Ada had told Freddie yet that you knew of their dalliance. He hadn’t made any indication that he did, heck he hardly ever even looked at you, so you assumed no.

“I’ll take a mild,” he said to you, leaning against the bar as he looked toward Tommy, who continued to smoke his cigarette and avoid his old friend.

You took another look between the two before pouring his glass, then watched as Freddie leaned over and took one of the two coins Tommy had laid down on the counter, and pushed it toward you.

Looking between the two, you were surprised to see Tommy chuckle, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

“Cheers, Thomas. Good health to you,” Freddie said, lifting his mug before taking a sip. When Tommy didn’t respond, Freddie reached over and grabbed his cap off the counter, examining the razor blade stitching. “Crown of a prince. Soon to be king, I’d bet–”

“You don’t bet,” Tommy finally replied, still looking forward.

“No, but these past few days I’ve been speculating.”

You tried to appear busy, like you weren’t eavesdropping. It was the job of the bartender to blend into the background. So you continued to polish the glassware as you pretended not to listen to the scene before you.

Tommy waited for Freddie to continue, but when he didn’t, Tommy took the bait. “About what?”

“One of my union comrades has a sister who works in the telegraph office at the BSA factory.”

You remained cool as you listened, but paused at hearing Freddie’s confession. Luckily, Freddie was leaning with his back against the bar counter, head leaned toward Tommy and away from you. You chanced a look at Tommy, who gave nothing away as he continued to look down at his cigarette and listen. You followed suit, going back to your task at hand as Freddie continued.

“She says, over the past week, they’ve had messages coming up from London to the brass. From Winston Churchill himself.” Freddie paused, pushing up from the bar and moving closer to Tommy. He offered the next part in a softer voice, just loud enough for you to overhear. “Something about a robbery. ‘A robbery of national significance’ it said.”

Tommy rose his brow unimpressed, still not bothering him with a glance.

Freddie went on. “She found a list of names left on the telegraph machine. And on that list was your name and my name together. What kind of list would have the name of a communist and the name of a bookmaker side by side?”

You chanced a peak toward Tommy, watching him set his tumbler down before finally addressing Freddie. “Perhaps it’s a list of men who give false hope to the poor. The only difference between you and me, Freddie, is that sometimes,” he leaned in closer, “sometimes my horses stand a chance of winning.”

He sat back up, taking another hit off his cigarette as Freddie considered him before pushing off the counter. He moved in closer, and the tension rose, causing you to grow more cautious. If a fight were to go down, you weren’t sure what you would do – what you’d be allowed to do. You knew Harry was in the back room, but still.

“You know,” Freddie said, leaning in toward Tommy, “there are days when I hear about the cuttings and beatings that I really wish I’d let you take that bullet in France.”

Tommy huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly as he continued to look down. “Believe me, there are nights I wish you had.”

The front door swung open, a man crashing through like a bull trapped in a pin. You gasped, jumping toward the back of the counter as you watched Tommy and Freddie spring into action at the sight of their friend Danny.

“They’re gonna get me!” he shouted as Tommy and Freddie grabbed both sides of him, throwing him down to the ground together.

“Breathe, Danny, breathe!” Freddie shouted when they finally got him face down.

“Danny! Danny! You’re home!” Tommy said loudly as Danny continued to cry out on the floor. “We’re all home in England. You’re not in France. You’re not an artillery shell, Danny, you’re a man. Hey? You’re not a whizz-bang. You’re a human being, Danny. You’re all right, you’re all right.”

You watched astounded as they managed to calm down Danny. According to Harry, this wasn’t the first time that Danny had barreled into the pub like this, lost in his mind and attacking everyone in sight. But this had been the first time you’d witnessed an incident.

It reminded you of what your life could had been like, had your father not gotten help himself with his own PTSD. You knew that nowadays, the concept of PTSD wasn’t even an idea – no one could have anticipated the trauma influenced by the harrowing nature of the First World War on the veterans as they returned home to normal lives.

You were beginning to wonder if Tommy had any sort of symptoms or triggers when they lifted Danny from the floor as Tommy comforted him back to the present. At some point, Harry had emerged from the back room during the commotion and began righting the tables and chairs.

“Ah hell, did I do it again?” Danny asked Tommy, crying when he confirmed.

Tommy pressed his forhead against his friend’s, “You’ve gotta stop doing this, man.”

Danny offered his apologies as Tommy led him toward the door.

“It’s all right. You go home to your wife now, Danny. Try and get all that smoke and mud out of your head, eh?”

Danny apologized again until he left the pub. Tommy and Freddie shared a look before Tommy wiped his face with his hand and moved back to the counter.

“Mr. Shelby,” Harry said as he gestured toward a broken table top. “You have to do something about him.”

“Damn right, Harry,” Freddie said antagonizingly, patting the man on the shoulder. “You pay the Peaky Blinders a lot of money for protection.” He followed Tommy back toward the bar, where you’d already filled up his glass. “You’re the law around here now, Tommy, aren’t you? Maybe you should put a bullet in Danny Wizz-Bang’s head, like they do with mad horses.” Tommy paused in his walk toward the door. “Maybe you’ll have to put a bullet in my head someday, too.”

Tommy shook his head, lifting his cap and straightening it back on his head before turning to look at you. For a moment, you could see the real hurt behind his eyes. A vision flashed before you, of Tommy putting a gun against his own head, and you shuttered.

“Bring the bill to the Peaky Blinders,” Tommy said to Harry on his way out the door. “We’ll take care of it.”

That night you approached the Shelby house with trepidation. Aside from that first family meeting, you hadn’t exactly been invited to any of the other meetings. Which was to be expected, you weren’t really family after all. Plus, at the time, there were members at these counsels that still didn’t know of your involvement in the company.

After the Benji incident, Scudboat and Lovelock had become privy to your real status amongst the business. Polly assured you that they could be trusted, and that they would be useful security-wise. You had been receptive to this update, since neither man had ever had any kind of trouble with the books (aside from some bad math) and they’d always been kind toward you.

“Finally, we can get started,” Arthur shouted when you walked through the den door.

Apparently you were the last to arrive. Polly pushed a chair out for you to sit between her and Arthur, who stood and began to pass out small pamphlets.

“Right, I’ve called this family meeting because I’ve got some very important news. Scudboat and Lovelock got back from Belfast last night. They were buying a stallion to cover their mares. They were in a pub on the Shankhill Road yesterday and in that pub there was a copper, handing out these.”

He handed a paper to Ada, which John snatched away to read himself. He gave the remaining papers to Scudboat to pass to you, Polly, and Tommy, who was standing against a beam on the other side of Polly.

“‘If you’re over five feet and can fight, come to Birmingham.’” John read from the pamphlet.

“They’re recruiting Protestant Irishmen to come over here as Specials,” Arthur went on.

Ada’s brow creased, “To do what?”

“To clean up the city, Ada,” Tommy answered. “He’s a chief inspector. The last four years he’s been clearing the IRA out of Belfast.”

“How do you know so bloody much?” Arthur asked acusatoringly.

“‘Cause I asked the coppers on our payroll.”

“And why didn’t you tell me?”

Tommy continued to stare at his older brother, shrugging slightly, “I’m telling you.”

Arthur fumed, taking a swig of his flask as Polly asked, “So why are they sending him to Birmingham?”

“Well, there’s been all these bloody strikes at the BSA and the Austen works lately,” Tommy explained. Ada shared a quick look with you, knowing that it was Freddie who had a hand in most of those strikes. “Now the papers are talking about sedition, and revolution. I reckon it’s communist they’re after.”

“So this copper’s gonna leave us alone, right?” Polly followed up.

Tommy chanced a look with you before easily answering her question.

“There are Irishmen in Green Lanes who left Belfast to get away from him. They say Catholic men who crossed him used to disappear in the night.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t IRA,” John chimed in. “We bloody fought for the king. Anyway, we’re Peaky Blinders. We’re not scared of coppers.”

“He’s right,” Arthur added.

“If they come for us, we’ll cut them a smile each.”

“So, Arthur, is that it?” Tommy asked, ignoring his younger brother.

Arthur pointed toward you. “Her.” Your brow rose as everyone turned to look at you. “Was the powder trick her idea?”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, “Like I told you this morning–”

“You brought her in to help us with the company. Ever since she got here you’ve been reckless. We don’t fuck with the Chinese!”

You rose your finger, “I’d like to point out that I have no idea what a powder trick even is–”

“Y/N is only doing what we agreed to,” Tommy answered honestly. “I’ll have no more talk of it.”

Arthur huffed, still staring daggers at his brother.

“You have nothing more to say to this meeting, Thomas?” Polly asked, breaking the tension between them.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Nothing that’s women’s business.”

You rose a brow to that, curious what business was unfit for either you or his aunt to be privy to.

Polly narrowed on him. “This whole bloody enterprise was women’s business while you men were away at war. What’s changed?”

“We came back.”

“How could you let him do it?”

Polly stormed into your flat that night, pulling off her black veil that she typically wore to the church.

“Uh, sure, come on in Pol,” you joked, motioning for her to come in despite her already standing in the middle of your room with her hands on her hips.

“Tommy told me about the guns.”

You sobered up real fast at that, closing the door.

“You have to convince him to get rid of them – throw them in the Cut.”

Taking a deep breath, you moved to prepare you both a cup of tea. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Talk to him, he’ll listen to you. Do you know how much trouble he’ll be in if he’s caught with those guns, or selling them for that matter? He’ll hang!”

You swallowed, the severity sinking in. You knew that Tommy was going through every possibility that these guns could serve him.

“You know I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t make Tommy do anything, Polly. You know that better than anyone.”

She huffed, the sound of surrender as she knew you were right. She ran her hand across her forehead. “This copper is going to be trouble. I can feel it.”

You had to meet Harry early the next morning. He’d closed early due to the mess Danny had caused and you offered to help him clean up. You were sweeping the floors when the door opened.

A woman came in and you stopped her, “Oh, I’m sorry, we’re closed–”

“I’m here about the job as a barmaid,” she said with a polite smile.

You appraised the woman before you. She was beautiful, her features soft and polished. Her blonde hair stood out against the others in the town.

A pang of jealousy filled you immediately, but you pushed it aside. You’d already convinced yourself that this place needed more help, and that no one was going to encroach on your territory. But dammit, why’d she have to be so pretty.

“Y/N,” you offered her a smile and your hand.

She reciprocated, “Grace.”

“Harry!” you shouted, listening for Harry to come back from downstairs. “This is Grace. She’s here about the barmaid position.”

“Are you mad?” he asked, looking her up and down.

“Am I what?”

“Job’s been filled.”

He turned back and you shared a confused look with Grace, knowing that the role hadn’t been filled, unless he’d hired someone without letting you know.

She took a step forward, “It was in an advertisement in yesterday’s paper.”

“Believe me, love,” he said over his shoulder. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“I’m not asking for favors, I’m asking for employment.”

You couldn’t help the small smirk on your cheek at her response. “Do you have any experience?”

“And references,” she replied, opening her bag and handing you her papers. “I worked in a pub in Dublin.”

Harry walked over toward you, looking over your shoulder at her papers. “What part of Ireland are you from?” he asked.

“Galway.”

He hummed, “my mother was from Galway.”

“She does have experience,” you commented. “That’s better than any of the others who’ve come in to apply.”

“I can’t have two pretty women in my pub. The coppers will think I’m runnin’ a brothel.”

You shared a look with Grace, sighing at the real reason Harry didn’t want to hire her.

She straightened as she took off her hat. “Watch. And listen.”

Your brow knitted curiously as she picked up the spit bucket, then she began to sing.

“I wish I was in Carrickfergus, only for nights in Ballygrand.

I would swim over, the deepest ocean. The deepest ocean, for my love to find.

My boyhood friends and my own relations, have all passed on now, like the melting snow.”

She sat down the spit bucket, now filled with the spatoons she’d dumped inside as she sang. You and Harry shared a surprised look. Her singing really was magical, and the jealousy you’d been fighting off rose back up like vile in your throat.

“In Ireland, my singing made them cry and stopped them fighting.”

Harry chuckled, “I hope you know a lot of songs.”

Grace nodded, smiling as she looked back toward you hopeful.

You smiled back at her encouragingly, but something in your gut pulled at you to take caution. Something about her felt very disingenuous – she felt too polite, too posh, nothing at all like the other people you’d met in town since you’d arrived.

You tried to convince yourself it was your jealousy, that you were being territorial, all the things you’d been afraid of – but something deeper felt off.

Like you weren’t the only one here with secrets.

“This investigator isn’t messing around,” Tommy commented as you brushed Monaghan Boy’s coat.

It was just the two of you at the Yard, Charlie and Curly were on guard. Tommy used your interest in visiting the horse as his cover to check in on the crates, which hadn’t been touched since you left it the other night.

“Our coppers say he made a big speech about taking down the Peaky Blinders and Fenians and Communists,” he continued. “Said he doesn’t trust any of them, and brought in his own brigade of men.”

“This is getting serious, Tommy. Aren’t you worried?”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “I’m told he didn’t serve. Reserved occupation—“

“Tommy!” Curly ran toward you, “It’s Arthur. He’s been beat bad!”

You handed Curly the brush and hurried alongside Tommy, who led the way back toward the Lane. He stopped first at the Garrison to grab some rum – said it was the best for disinfection. You disagreed, but didn’t dare argue with his determination in the moment. The pub was packed, but the minute Tommy walked in, the crowded moved aside.

He snaked through the snug and opened the window as you pushed your way behind the bar.

“Doesn’t matter what kind, just any bottle,” he shouted, causing Harry and Grace to look toward him.

“What are you doing, I thought you were off this morning?” Grace asked you, looking between you and Tommy.

“I am,” you added, searching the shelf for an unopened bottle.

You heard Harry whisper to Grace that whatever it is, it’s on the house. Tommy sat some money down on the window seal anyway, which Grace moved to collect.

“Ready?” you said after finally finding the bottle. Tommy nodded, giving one last look to Grace before turning to leave.

“If I say something’s on the house,” you heard Harry say to Grace as you moved to leave, “then say nothing to whoever you’re serving. If they decide that they want you, there’s nothing anybody could do about it. Lucky for you, Tommy there hasn’t looked at anyone other than Y/N since he got back.”

You couldn’t help the swell in your chest and smirk on your lips as you gripped the bottle and made your exit from the pub.

Your smirk immediately fell when you arrived at the Shelby house to the sight of Arthur beat up and bloody.

“I’m not bloody chocking, am I?”

“You will when I wrap this cloth around your neck,” Ada said back to the older brother as she poured boiling water into a bowl.

“Let me see him,” Tommy announced, opening the bottle of rum and ringing out a rag. Arthur took a swig of the bottle before Tommy took it back, pouring some onto the rag and pushing it against a nasty gash above his eye.

Arthur hissed as Tommy reassured him he was alright, then grabbed his arm. “He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. National interest, he said. Something about a robbery.”

Tommy pushed away from him, taking a few steps backwards to breathe.

“Who?” You asked innocently, moving to help Polly and Ada tend to some of his other cuts.

“The inspector,” Ada answered.

Your mouth fell again, surprised that an officer did this, and realizing just exactly how out of your depth you may be.

“He said he wants us to help him,” Arthur continued, still watching Tommy as he leaned against the counter.

“We don’t help coppers,” John commented.

Arthur pointed to his younger brother. “He knew all about our war records. He said we’re patriots, like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears.”

“Was this before or after he beat you to a pulp?” You scoffed, mostly to yourself. John breathed out a laugh, but Arthur remained serious.

“I said—“ he hissed again as Polly bandaged up his hand. “I said we’d have a family meeting and take a vote.”

He waited a beat, watching Tommy until his head dropped down to his hand.

“Why not? Hmm?” Arthur asked when Tommy still didn’t say anything. “We have no truck with Fenians or communists.”

Tommy continued to remain silent.

“What’s wrong with ya?” Arthur asked, then looked to you. “What’s wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with him lately?” He finally asked, directing the last question to Polly.

“If I knew, I’d buy the cure from Compton’s chemists,” she replied looking back at Tommy with that cut throat disapproving glare.

Arthur set his sights on you, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. That it was you — you were what was wrong with him lately.

After you all got him relatively cleaned up, he left and grumbled something about getting back his money’s worth. You didn’t ask what he meant by that. Ada and John soon followed, leaving just you, Polly, and Tommy left in the kitchen.

Polly gave you a pointed look before leaving.

“Tommy—“ you began the minute you two were alone.

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“Did you see Arthur’s face? And this guy wants your help,” you scoffed, dropping into the seat. “This man has to be insane.”

“And desperate,” Tommy added. “This changes our plans. They’ve shown their hand. We can use this. If they want them back this bad, they’ll have to pay.”

You blinked. “You think you can extort from this guy? God, you really would make a great politician, you know that?”

He shook his head. “This is our ticket for legitimacy.”

“In what world?” You all but laughed, thinking of the irony that something legitimate could come from theiving and blackmailing.

“In this one! This is the way of the world!” He softly exclaimed. Despite the two of you being alone in the house, he still felt the need to be discreet.

You took a deep breath. “I understand that you believe the only way to get ahead is to play dirty, but this — you saw your brother’s face. This guy isn’t messing around. And Winston Churchill. I mean, that’s serious business. He’s the fucking prime minister—“ Tommy’s brow creased, and you shook your head. “I mean, he— he could be one day. He’s just, he’s— he’s powerful, I mean.”

“Fortune drops something valuable into your lap, you don’t just dump it on the bank of the Cut,” Tommy said strongly.

You swallowed, knowing there was no talking him out of it. “Okay. What’s your plan.”

“In France, I learned that it was frivolous to have a concrete plan. You had to adapt at a moment’s notice to survive. My Kimber plan remains, this just may be an opportunity to further my original goal.”

“Alright,” you conceded.

You held his gaze for a moment before he sat down and took your hand. “This is good, Y/N. This is our chance.”

Outside of Birmingham, the new Inspector walked into an art museum, approaching a blonde woman wearing a large hat.

“Are you in position?”

Grace rose her head, “I am, sir.”

“First impression?”

“I’m quite shocked at how these people live. Have you found anything out that might help me?”

“I interrogated the head of the Peaky Blinders. He didn’t know anything. A brute.”

Grace hummed. “It strikes me that it isn’t Arthur who heads the Shelby family. It’s the younger one, Thomas. They say he won two medals for gallantry in the war.”

“You sound fascinated,” Inpector Campbell commented, raising a brow.

“There’s a woman at the bar. She seems very close with the family. I believe she may be my gate to learn more. However, my opinion has not changed. The bookmaker gangs have other business, and the communists are too weak to have planned this. I believe the guns were taken by the IRA.”

He hummed. “You must not let your personal history cloud your judgement.”

“What history?” Grace countered. “That the IRA murdered my father will not affect my judgement.”

“If you see any guns, check the serial numbers against that list,” he slipped a folded paper in her hands. “Your father was the finest officer I ever worked with. I know he’d be very proud of you.”

Back in Birmingham, you were helping Polly with the books when Tommy walked in, blood splattered across his white collar. You knew what this meant — Danny was gone.

He’d accidentally killed someone during another fit. An Italian whose family wanted revenge. Tommy had promised to dispatch of him himself, with the Italians as witness.

“Where are ya!” Arthur shouted from the other end of the empty shop. He slammed a paper in front of Tommy. “It bloody won! Monaghan Boy bloody won!”

“Yeah. It won. And word will spread. So the next time we do the powder trick, it won’t just be the Garrison that’ll bet on the horse. It’ll be the whole of Small Heath. And you know what? The horse will win again. And the third time we do it, we’ll have the whole of Birmingham betting on it. A thousand quid bet on the magic horse. And that time, when we’re ready, the horse will lose.” Arthur only stared at him as Tommy shut the book he’d opened. “Think about it.”

He walked the book over toward you and Polly, dropping it to the table along with a bag of coins.

Polly picked it up, judging the weight. “Bad week?” Tommy didn’t reply. “There was no moon last night, I checked. Did you do the right thing?”

“Yes,” he replied, meeting your eyes. “I did the right thing.”

God, you hoped he did.

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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flagbridge · 4 months

Text

Q&A: The Phantom Broadway Proshot

Happy 36th Birthday to Phantom of the Opera's opening night on Broadway! We should be celebrating at the Majestic. The show never should have closed.

In order to create "new" ish POTO Broadway content, @or-what-you-will and I promised to answer your questions about the proshot on POTO Broadway's birthday. Find our summary of the Proshot here.

We got dozens of questions, which we've consolidated into 14 questions. Read them all past the cut!

Wait, what’s the Phantom Proshot?

The Phantom Proshot is an archival copy of the original Broadway cast and production of Phantom of the Opera, filmed at the evening performance with a live audience on May 25, 1988. The New York Public Library, Theatre on Film and Tape Archive at the Performing Arts Library at Lincoln Center has archival copies of Broadway, Off-Broadway, and Regional theater going back to 1970. You can’t view currently running shows, so since Phantom ran for so long, it was under lock and key.

2. How do I see the Pro-Shot?

Pretty simple how to guide here on the NYPL website.

We are both NYPL cardholders and made a reservation in advance. You are required to state why you are accessing the recording as they exist for archival and research purpose. Both of us are published authors and researchers under our real names.

Here's a picture of the room we were in from NYPL's website. We had an appointment and were set up in a room with lots of monitors. We were seated at monitors next to each other with two sets of headphones and had one set of controls to pause/rewind etc. There are 20 monitors in the room and it was pretty full that day. This was not my first time at the TOFT and it’s always had a good number of people around.

3. Can someone get a boot of it/send me the link to it? Pleeeeease?

No. Seriously, stop asking about this. Stop joking about this. It’s not online, and never will be. All of the recordings are on digital media (videodiscs or DvDs) in the basement and only library staff get to touch them. Don’t be the person who tried to do this and ruins the archive for everyone else. You can’t even bring electronic devices into the room.

4. Why won’t they release it to the public? And who the heck does it benefit to keep this locked away?

It isn’t. It was locked away when the show was actually running. It is available to the public. We are the public! We have library cards and went to a public library and watched it for $0! It’s owned by the library so the public can see it! At the library!

The availability of us to access it now that the show has closed is what constitutes public release. There were several other phans, members of the public there to see it after us, and the library allowed them to max out the number of monitors the library allows people to view on. They had a later appointment and were watching disc one when we were on disc two. I’m sure there was someone after them too. Were we all wearing Phantom gear? Also yes.

(@or-what-you-will here) The library is not allowed to show recordings of anything currently running on Broadway, presumably because of fears about economic loss from those who own the rights to the musicals. The library does not own the rights to the musicals in the archive, and there are likely a lot of stipulations the library has to follow to be able to have recordings like this.

As someone who works in a library doing digitization work, libraries and the media they contain are very complicated. TOFT likely has the rights to show it under a very limited license, and to make copies for preservation purposes only, but things like this mean they would not be able to do anything like put it online or charge for it or do anything that would be them acting as though they owned the copyright (as opposed to the physical media). This is why when a library or archive has a book or tapes they don’t usually have the right to photocopy the entire book or digitize the entire tape and put it online (unless it is in public domain), however, if you go in person you can see it all you want. Someone else (usually the creator) owns the right to distribute or copy, and libraries and archives can get in a lot of trouble for violating it.

The copyright is still owned by the holders of each respective musical’s copyright. It’s essentially like when you buy a DVD and you are technically not supposed to copy that DVD but you can invite your friends over to watch it at your house. Copying it and distributing it violates copyright. Putting it online violates copyright. If the library violated copyright it would likely lose the ability to archive musicals altogether. If you copied the DVD it would be a lot harder to find out who put it up because the DVD is owned by lots of people, though you could still be prosecuted by the law. If the library did, they would know immediately who did it because they are presumably the only ones with a copy of this recording.

Likewise if someone took a bootleg recording of a show and distributed it, the copyright holders wouldn’t know it existed. If they found out that individual would then be eligible to be prosecuted under the law. Because the library is a public institution, if they were found out to be doing this, it would be the library itself that would get in trouble and it would damage their reputation, their funding, and quite possibly the funding and reputation of libraries around the world. A lot of this is done on trust. The copyright holders trust the library as a public institution and the library has a lot more stakes in the game than a single person recording the show and distributing it.

It’s a very tenuous agreement at times, and likely the library is only allowed to even record because there are so many protections in place and they have a history of enforcing these rules. These agreements also usually cover digitization and preservation, but again, violating them could have those abilities taken away as well. It’s all tied up in copyright law and the library has no control over that. I have talked to archivists where I live who have to record performances with tape over the lens because it’s considered for preservation and they want to make sure it cannot be possible to profit off of it in any way.

When the show goes into public domain they will be able to put it online all they want without fear of repercussions, but until then, unless those agreements change, we are all limited by the whim of the copyright holders.

5. Hello! Is the pro shot you watched what this clip is from https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cp2_80CJqI3/?igsh=MWNja2wwYWw4OHUwbw== ?

I know all of us here on Tumblr were freaking out that they maybe had a copy of the pro shot when this came out. Thank you! (@imstillhere-butallislost)

Not the proshot, it's a press reel. It has its own cool story though! Answered this here.

6. How good of a shot was it? I know you said ProShot but is it a ProShot like Hamilton or just a camera recording the whole stage at once?

I’d definitely say it was Hamilton pro-shot quality as to what was available at the time between image quality and mixing up of close ups and wide shots. I’ve watched other proshots and many just park a camera in the back of the orchestra and call it good. Cats in particular had multiple cameras but just did close-ups when they felt like it, not when it made sense or added anything. As @or-what-you-will explained in their re-blog, Phantom was one of the first proshots where they had a soundboard plug in, and let me tell you, with the exception of a few moments in Act 1 where Sarah Brightman maxes out her mic, the sound was delicious. Have we talked about how Judy Kaye is singing over the overture (yes, that’s Judy Kaye, original Carlotta, warming up!)? Or that you can hear every single word of Notes I and Prima Donna and Notes II, which usually just sounds garbled because everyone is singing over one another? Actually hearing words that I sort of know exist changed my experience of the show for me.

7. How did the tempo seem, compared to the pace of the show at the end of its run? I saw the show a few times in the last few years, and the music seemed significantly faster in person than it sounded on the London cast recording. I’ve always wondered if that was just a difference between the London and NY productions, or if the tempo just sped up over the years.

Uh…normal pace??? I’ve watched a lot of boots and most solidly clock in 2:15 of run time. This was no different. There are definitely some that run a little faster. London during Earl Carpenter’s 2023 run was notorious as he had to catch a train. It does seem to have settled back out. I will say, the music does always feel more intense in person because the whole place just vibrates.

8. I'm curious about the comment about the Ratcatcher? I think I remember that character from a film adaptation, but was he ever in the ALW musical? (@lord-valery-mimes)

Yes, Ratcatcher is still in the musical, even now. It’s a blink or you miss it type of moment. If you hear a thud and a scream right before Madame Giry tells Raoul “He lives across the Lake, Monsieur”, the thud is the ratcatcher running across the travelator.

9. Does Christine really recognize the Phantom in PONR from his boner?

No, but at this point she probably already know it’s him and has been trying to get through the scene, but definitely acts surprised because, well, that’s surprising. But it’s definitely the moment where the Vibes Are Officially Off.

10. Can Sarah Brightman act?

Yes! All three of the trio have far more nuanced performances on stage. Sarah doesn’t act the way that we do see many later Christines (including late 80s and early 90s Christines), but she absolutely created the blueprint for the role. Her “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again” is missing some soul, but at the end of the day she was one of a kind, and she made some very strong acting choices.

11. there anything unexpected? Any interpretation that stood out to you and particularly striking but didn’t stick around as others took on the roles and put their own spin on things?

Guys, I want to talk about Steve Barton as Raoul. The man made choice, after choice, after choice. And yet we have had so many Raoul’s that are kind of just strutting about looking pretty. Some seem to even forget they’re onstage during Final Lair. It can be such a juicy role if the actors choose to make it that way but so few do.

Besides some small details I mentioned, the show did maintain its integrity through its 35 year run, which is truly remarkable.

(@or-what-you-will here) Seconding what Flag said, Steve Barton brought so much more to the role than I’m used to seeing, and it really opened my mind to what Raoul could be.

The blocking in PONR did surprise me, I knew they had changed it but I hadn’t realized how much. I always found the kind of pinwheeling arm thing Christine does with the phantom strange, so it was a pleasant surprise to find that they didn’t do that at all, the embrace from behind made more sense to me.

I also found after she took his hood off no one really ran out, the phantom and Christine got to have their moment. The blocking where they (the managers and Raoul) run out and tell Christine to stay makes no sense with their motivations to stop him. The more recent blocking where Christine motions them to stay in place as the phantom sings the All I Ask of You Reprise makes way more sense with the characters’ motives and matches this original blocking much more.

12. Also are you truly working on a research project? If so, how is progress and where might we find your final results when it’s complete?

To quote Dr. Who, “Spoilers.” Yes, always. Both of us have day jobs that have us doing research, but I can’t promise I’ll put it on here when complete since I keep fandom and real life separate. Sorry to dodge this one but getting into specifics about this starts to identify us.

(@or-what-you-will here) Seconding what Flag said.

13. Hi there, I was wondering if I could ask you a general question about the NPL’s archive. Something about the language on their website made it sound like viewers could only watch a recording “once”. I wasn’t sure if that meant “once per visit” (i.e. you can’t sit there for 8 hours restarting the tape every time it ends) or “once” as in forever (like, once you’ve watched a recording you are never allowed to request it again). Did you have any clarification? I wasn't sure if the librarians explain the policies when you arrive at your appointment. Thank you for providing so many details about the Phantom pro-shot and offering to answer our questions! That's really kind of you!

You’re welcome! So if there’s nobody after you, you can hang out with the media as long as you want. However, we did have another group come in about 90 minutes after us. That gave us enough time to watch both acts with all the rewinds we wanted. We watched PONR and parts of Final Lair like five times. On a previous TOFT trip I watched two shows and was there for like six hours. The prohibition is on coming back and watching the recording again. I have no idea how strict they are about this, although I suspect it’s to keep people from monopolizing certain media. Would I want to try to watch the proshot again in the future? Probably! I know there’s stuff I missed, or I’d see something different depending on what I’m working on. The TOFT is also an absolutely incredible resource and I have so many other shows I’d like to check out.

(Will here) They do log on your library account when you visit that you visited and what you saw. However, if you have accessibility needs that would require you to watch in multiple viewings or something along those lines, I would talk to them about it, because I’m sure they’d be able to work with you to figure out something so you wouldn’t have to sit through the whole thing in one shot.

14. > Barton Raoul’s “There is no Phantom of the Opera” comes off more as “Christine this is just some dude” vs “he doesn’t exist at all.”

Could you elaborate on this part? I'm having trouble imagining how that would be conveyed. (also, thanks for sharing your notes on the procast!) @clutzyangel

You're welcome! Yes, he's telling Christine that the Phantom is a human, flesh-and-blood man, not some fantastical creature. I've seen many Raouls who seem to try to convince Christine that the Phantom doesn't exist at all. Barton's Raoul seems to understand that he's a man with ulterior motives possibly duping Christine.

And he's not wrong.

#phantom of the opera #poto #alw phantom #phantom proshot #happy birthday phantom broadway #phantom broadway #michael crawford #sarah brightman #steve barton #judy kaye #andrew lloyd webber #nypl #research #I wish Phantom were still be on broadway #we should all be wilding out at the majestic

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

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Naib and Eli resting their head on gender neutral s/o’s boobs sfw, how do they go about to getting into the position, what’s their reaction if their s/o calls them out lovingly ofc!! please :3!!

Heck yeah!! I wasn't entirely sure if you wanted HCs or a little scene so here's a bit of both.

Naib Subedar

-Mr. “I do what I want” right here just sees an opening and goes for it. As long as you’re in private, of course.

-If you seriously want him to get off he will, but he can tell when you’re just messing with him and plays along with it a bit.

-He can take some teasing, especially if it means he gets to stay like this longer.

---

You blinked and he was there, full weight settling carefully against yours. When you lifted your book to peer down at the shirtless mercenary who’d joined you in bed, skin still hot and steaming from his shower. He deigned not to return eye contact and instead nuzzled his jaw into your sternum. Both of his hands wormed their way between the bed and the small of your back and squeezed. His legs clenched and stretched like a cat, and then he fell still.

“Whatcha doing?” you asked.

“‘M tired,” Naib said in response, muffled slightly against your chest. His hair was down, dripping, dampening your shirt.

“I’m sure, it sounded like your match was a busy one for my favorite rescue specialist.” He groaned in confirmation. “But you know there’s a perfectly good pillow right next to me?” You felt more than saw his lips pull into a smirk.

“I like these better,” he said. “Warmer, softer, and they come with a heartbeat.” To punctuate his point, Naib laid his ear right over your heart and settled back in. “Rub my back for me.”

“You’re being awfully demanding,” you replied. “What if I don’t like you laying on me like this, hmm?”

Naib groaned louder and made a show of peeling himself away from you. He got as far as elbow-height from your body before you tossed your book away, forcibly hugged his face back into your chest, and locked your legs around his waist. With a short laugh, he collapsed back on top of you. One of his hands ran the length of your side appreciatively while he settled back in, cheeks now well and truly smushed by your bosom.

“You’re the best,” he muttered when your hands began rubbing circles into his shoulders, and after several minutes drifted away to sleep.

Eli Clark

-A little more shy about it. He asks first, but he’s just a tiny bit awkward about it.

-Also handles teasing well, as he knows when you’re being serious or not, even if you’re really subtle.

-So very sweet about it. He just wants to be held. ;;

---

Eli finally stepped into your room after checking on everyone post-match. It always took him forever to make his rounds, but it was hard to be upset when his absence was for such kind reasons. Brooke Rose took a perch onyour coat rack, and Eli made himself comfortable, sluggishly removing both his cloak and eyemask. You were already watching him when he turned to face you, bright blue eyes locking onto your form. A sweet, but tired smile slipped onto his lips.

After several long moments holding one another’s stares like that, and his cheeks steadily growing pink, you ventured to ask, “Is everything alright?”

“Ah,” Eli finally said. “I was just wondering…if I could join you?”

“Of course you can,” you chuckled. Always cautious, this one, even after losing count of all the times you’ve given permission. You patted the mattress next to you, and Eli seemed pleased with the offer, but stopped again with just one knee on the bed, vaguely hovering over your reclined form.

“Actually, I was wondering if I might…lay on you?” he asked.

“Feeling a little extra clingy tonight, are we?” you asked back. His head dipped away in embarrassment, but he didn’t retreat from you. He chuckled good-naturedly.

“Can I?” he asked again.

“Can you?” Your voice dropped low, teasing and suggestive.

“You’re cheeky,” he said back, “I think I can.” Carefully, he slid himself up against your side. His legs tangled with yours, torso half-topping, half-spooning you. He was trying to be mindful of his weight, but when he finally settled and seemed happy with the position, he was coiled around you like ivy. And his head cradled right against your boobs.

“I see what this is,” you taunted, unable to resist one more. “You just wanted easy access to the stress balls.” Eli barked a loud laugh in response. He turned his head up as if to say something but cut himself off when your fingers slipped into his hair and began combing through it. The treatment relaxed him, and you two fell gently into intimate silence.

#idv x reader #identity v x reader #naib subedar x reader #eli clark x reader #idv seer #idv mercenary #turbulentscrawl

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Once Upon a Time 10

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A message pops up on your Instagram. You open it with dread, a blank profile with some generic photo of a bookshelf. You already know it's him.

‘Your aunt is very nice.’

You nearly drop your phone as you glance over at Jo. She sits with a cross stitch as she watches a rerun of Cold Case. You shudder and look back down at the screen.

‘Why r u doing this?’

You hit the arrow as your sweaty hands stick to the silicon case.

‘Why am I being nice?’ He replies.

You can't. You stand up with your phone and your Aunt Jo peeks over with an arched brow. You give an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I'll be right back.”

You cross the room and pass the kitchen doorway. You lock yourself in the bathroom and look at your phone. You see three dots then they disappear.

‘You followed me.’

He sends a rolling eye emoji. You nearly scream. What the hell? He's rolling his eyes at what? Stalking you?

‘More than once.’

He sends a laughing emoji with tears. You huff. He's so confusing. Then a photo pops up, buffering before finally loading.

It's Chelsea, well, the top of her head and she's…

You want to puke. You can't believe he'd send you that. Does she know he took that? Even if she's a bitch, you feel bad.

‘Looks like I'm all taken care of.’ He texts.

‘Looks like you are.’

You turn your phone to do not disturb and lock it. He's disgusting. You don't even get what he wants from you. If he has Chelsea doing all that, why the heck is he texting you?

You take your phone to the spare room, what was once your room, and leave it there. You don’t want to be bothered by him, even if you can’t shake the uneasiness stirring your nerves. You go back to the living room and sit down on the couch. You stare unseeingly at the television as the syndicated legal series drones on.

“What was that, honey?” Jo asks, poking her needle up then pulling it through.

“Work,” you lie, “um, they keep moving around the schedule or whatever. It’s... frustrating.”

“Ah, that’s too bad,” she tug the thread to its limit, “you’re stressed. Maybe you should take a day off.”

“Maybe,” you rub your forehead, “or get a different job.”

“Could do,” she shrugs, “you know I’ll support whatever you do.”

“Yeah,” you drop your hands into your lap and look at her, “I know.”

You turn back to screen and try to hide your despair. Should you try to tell her about Andy? The thought’s crossed your mind a dozen times over. Your Aunt Jo is fierce and loving, she might just believe you but it’s not her holding you back. It’s him. He’s dangerous and he hasn’t yet shown you how dangerous.

It’s better she doesn’t know. Not right now. You’ll have to deal with Andy. Just not tonight.

📖

You grumble around the last mouthful of coffee. Another day, another shift. While Jo’s suggestion was tempting, you really can’t give up the hours. Nonetheless, you haven’t sat on your hands. Several applications were forward late into the night as sleep eluded you. Now you can barely hold your head up.

It shouldn’t be very busy at opening. You can survive on an instant coffee packet from the breakroom. You yawn and grab your coat and bag. The snow puffs up around your boots as you step outside, shivering as you tuck your scarf into the top of your jacket. You pull your hood up against the frigid wind and tamp down the fresh powder as you come down the walk.

As you get to the sidewalk, you stop and look both ways. Before you can cross and head for the bus stop, a horn honks, jarring you. You step back as a familiar car rolls up. You cross your arms, heart racing, and peek back over your shoulder at the safe hold of your aunt’s house.

“Buses are behind,” Andy calls through the window as it slides down, “you’ll be late...”

“I’m fine,” you sidestep to walk around the rear bumper and he shifts into reverse, blocking your escape.

“I know your aunt didn’t teach you to be so ungrateful--”

“Don’t talk about my aunt,” you snap as you turn back the other way and he rolls forward. You stop short and stomp your foot, “why are you doing this? Why are you bugging me? Chelsea--”

“I don’t want Chelsea, she’s a slut. She’s easy. She gets the job done,” he sneers.

You shake your head and blow out a cloud of warmth into the crisp air, “I’m sure there are other--”

“You,” he says tersely, “that’s it. No one else.”

You close your eyes and shudder, “I... I’m not interested... like that, Andy. I just was being friendly because it’s my job. Can’t you understand?”

“I don’t understand,” he snarls, “I’m a lawyer, I’m good-looking, I take good care of myself and I could do the same for you. You wouldn’t have to work in some shitty bookstore.”

You flutter your lashes and shake your head, “I...”

“What? Why don’t you want me?” He leans over the seat further, glaring at you.

“How old are you?” You blurt out, immediately sealing your lips in regret.

He scoffs, “and how old are you? Bit over the hill to be in retail, huh? I know you’re not some college kid getting a few extra bucks. You’re a grown woman, your life is a mess. You need someone like me.”

You huff, “I need you to leave me alone.”

He clucks and sits up. The car idles in front of you as he sits silently. He grips the real and clears his throat, “I’ll be seeing you for dinner. Aunt Jo sure is sweet, maybe you could learn a thing or two from her.”

The window rolls up before you can spit back a retort. The mention of your aunt flares in your chest. How dare he. You know it’s more than a snipe at you, he’s not saying her name for nothing. It’s a threat.

He steers away down the snowy road, the snow packing beneath the weight of the car. You watch his headlights stop at the corner before you kick through the snow. Fuck.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #drabble #once upon a time #defending jacob #au #bookstore au #series

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bonbon-bonny · 4 months

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I don't usually write a whole lot but I wanted to talk about this for a moment

Ahem. *flips through notes*

So I loooove Sailor Moon. Specifically the 90s version. It was my favorite show growing up. My home life was difficult and to see someone like Usagi with a perfect family, a perfect boyfriend etc. getting to live her best life despite the fact she herself wasn't perfect was too easy to become a bit obsessive over ^_^;

well, let's just say I wanted to be Usagi just a bit too much because my world, my family (Side note: I looove my family! They did the best they could to take care of me growing up, but we had to deal with an unusual circumstance that made it hard for all of us), heck just even being myself didn't feel good enough and frankly it left me having to confront a lot of issues just to be okay with who I am now.

And of course ,naturally, I looooved Tuxedo Kamen XD. On the outside to me, he seemed perfect; a knight in shining armor.

But I always kept running into a particular conversation which is "why do you like him so much tho? He seems like a jerk. He seems so different from her. He never shows her affection. She'd be better off with someone like Seiya who's more on her level. He's useless. He's bad for trying to help her because she's a girl boss and doesn't need to be rescued." Like, seriously the amount of criticism I've heard towards this character is wild and he literally gets attacked no matter what he does.

And you know I get it. If you just look at it from a surface level it's easy to maybe get that impression of him but after one particular conversation I was having with a friend of mine about it I stopped and asked myself why. Why does she like him? why does he like her? how can two people who outwardly look so different from each other ever be in a healthy relationship? what could the two of them possibly have in common?

So I did what I do best and I watched the show I grew up with carefully. I observed him. I watched the things he said and did. And in the end I reached several conclusions.

Mamoru isn't perfect, at least in the beginning, but he's always trying to do his best to be. With almost anyone else in the show he's usually calm, collected and somewhat reserved. The only person besides Motoki he seems to act out a bit with if you can call it that IS Usagi and half of the time it's not even that he's actually being mean.

[IF you watch the Japanese version with subtitles, because in the English dub? Ooph! they changed so much of his dialogue and gave him such a smirky voice it's hard to listen to him without wanting to punch him in the face imo.]

It's that the way she perceives him is off. Also, sometimes it's not even HIM that starts the arguments.

Sometimes SHE'S the one who starts their spats and he snaps back at her. Sometimes she hits him with shoes and papers and doesn't seem to care.

One episode that comes to mind is the Dreamland episode where the toy train stops and she rams into him. All he did was look at her and say hi and immediately she got defensive and started making fun of him.

Making fun of an orphan sitting on a toy train who most likely was just trying to do something fun that he never got to because he didn't HAVE a family to take him as a kid.

Seriously. If you were to be in his place, going through this world, it's rather scary, stressful, terrifying, and uncertain.

He didn't get a magical talking cat to walk him through his powers. Instead he got seizures and psychic visions, and a past life version of himself that took over his body without consent until he finally got the rainbow crystal and understood what was happening around him.

He gets amnesia not once but twice, kidnapped several times, and gets trapped in his own mind twice ala brainwashing by beryl and Nehelenia and by stars I wouldn't be surprised if half of the reason he went to study abroad instead of staying with Usagi is because he was afraid if he did he'd only continue to be a burden for her, because the man hardly has any dialogue and seems almost catatonic.

Also let's be real here. As amazing as it was for him to meet and talk with his future self it probably scared him. The responsibility of literally being King of the world, of making decisions that could impact the lives of everyone in tremendous ways. Of being the kind of partner and provider he thinks Usagi deserves or being a good father for Chibi-Usa when he didn't get to have parents to show him what those things looked like.

He didn't get a loving family to support him or tell him that they loved him, he was an orphan who probably hoped someone would eventually rescue him but no one ever did.

He probably feels in his heart that he doesn't deserve to be loved by anyone, and even if someone were to pursue him romantically he probably couldn't reciprocate in any meaningful way because he's most likely too closed off emotionally to be in a healthy relationship with anyone.

Heck the guy only for the most part has only two best friends. Motoki and Saori and frankly I'd hardly even call Saori a best friend since she literally just shows up in an episode in Super S as "Romantic competition" for Usagi and then just ups and vanishes and is never mentioned ever ever again.

So how does someone like him see Usagi and wind up constantly sacrificing his life over and over again for her?

Three words:

She. Sees. Him.

Once she starts to look at him a bit differently instead of seeing him as some tall guy running around with his stupid green jacket with his prickly personality, once she realizes that it was him trying to rescue her when she was so close to the brink of death on occasions and getting injured in the process, once he opens up to her about his struggles she sees him. Not just because he's a hero, but because even if it's hard for him he still tries to help her. A lot of times he even gives her really sound advice that she winds up listening to even if at the time he tells her she doesn't seem to understand him and takes it the wrong way.

He probably also deep down worries that he truly doesn't deserve someone like her.

Even if we don't always see it from the outside he adores Usagi because she sees him for who he is and doesn't ask him to be more outgoing or different.

Usagi adores him because he doesn't ask her to be anything other than who she really is.

Both of them accept the other as they truly are inside. THAT is true love.

You don't really get the chance to see what their relationship looks like from the outside. But he smiles a lot when he's with her which is certainly not something he really ever did with Rei or anyone else from what I could tell. And I bet when he does take her out on dates he's embarrassed and flustered and stumbles but he also probably takes off his mask and tries to make her happy and have a good time.

Also I'd like to add some notes on King Endymion and the violet. Why so much violet? Like....an overwhelming amount of violet XD I never understood why when I was younger but as I've grown up I've spent some time delving into subjects such as Psychology, Spirituality, and Philosophy.

Ladies and gentlemen, Violet is the color of the crown chakra.

https://www.chakras.info/crown-chakra/

Crown chakras deal with the mental and the spiritual. They are a gateway to enlightenment and in my opinion perhaps one could even say that the journey of mental health and enlightenment are two sides of the same coin.

So I'd like to think that for as much as Mamoru might struggle with his mental health, he also walked the path towards true enlightenment. Such a man truly should be King of the World and is more than deserving of being Usagi's partner.

And I'd die for a relationship with a man who is brave enough to confront the things which makes him suffer because I'd know that he'd have the clarity of mind to be a good partner, to treat me with kindness and compassion and show me the kind of love I've always dreamed of having, and that's something only someone who has love for themselves and others could ever possibly be able to give. He doesn't need to be perfect, because perfection is unattainable. He just needs to be brave enough to try even if it makes him deeply uncomfortable at times.

So,

To the men who truly and deeply identify with Mamoru, know I'd marry you in a heartbeat if you asked. That if you showered me in chocolate and flowers I'd do the exact same thing for you because you deserve it. Anyone who is brave enough to do the work necessary to heal and grow, to have kindness and compassion for others, to show me that even if I'm not perfect that it's still okay to be myself around you deserves every happiness in the world.

Not everyone is brave enough to do such a thing and I've come to a point in my life where I'm not interested in what someone can give me externally as much as I am in the kind of person they choose to be and what their values are.

Maybe some people might look at someone like Mamoru and judge him, but Usagi most certainly never would once she got to know him; and considering I've always wanted to be her I'll die on this hill defending him. Out of everyone, Usagi WOULD defend him from the judgement, from the criticism, of the need to be perfect and wear masks, or be something other than what he truly is on the inside.

Mamoru is more than just a knight in shining armor,

He's beautiful imperfection; and I'd choose that over anything else any day.

@heavyheartedprinceofearth

#sailor moon #heavyheartedprinceofearth #tuxedo kamen #mamoru chiba #usagi tsukino #prettyguardiansailormoon #usagi x mamoru #mamoru x usagi #tuxedo mask

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breakfastteatime · 1 month

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Today's Fallen Order request is "That looks broken" for @blueflowertea

The sun shines outside, flowers bloom, Greez has freshly baked bread cooling in the galley and all is calm and quiet aboard the ship. The others have ventured into a nearby market, leaving Greez with the whole ship to himself. He’s set the navicomp to run maintenance routines, the deck is sparking from his intense scrubbing, he baked the aforementioned bread (mostly to get rid of the odour of whatever the heck Cal tracked in from their last stop on an honest-to-great-grandma swamp planet), and the refresher hasn’t been that tidy since the day the ship left the production line.

All in all, Greez has had a very productive day while the others go gallivanting, with their ‘the Force is calling me’ and ‘I wish to see a new world’ and scanning, always scanning. It’s the first time in too long Greez has been able to play his own music on the sound system too. Apparently Latero lounge funk is nauseating for Humans. And Greez means that literally – both Cere and Cal get all woozy and pale if he tries playing it. It makes Merrin giggle uncontrollably in a genuinely dangerous to her health kind of way.

Greez makes himself a cup of caf and prepares to sit down, maybe catch a pod race, when he hears familiar voices approaching. He switches off his music and watches BD lead the way. That’s unusual. He rarely puts his own feet on the ground unless…

Greez looks up. Cal is on his feet, conscious and limping. Cere and Merrin follow, Merrin looking extremely pleased with herself while Cere looks like she’s ready to catch Cal at a moment’s notice.

“What happened?” Greez asks.

“Cal did not look where he was going,” Merrin says. “He tripped over a market stall.”

“And did such a great job putting it back together the stall owner wasn’t even mad at me!” Cal flops down onto the couch. Good thing Greez didn’t get around to cleaning that off today. He’s covered in soil. “And I was looking where I was going. I just got distracted. Totally different problem.”

“Yes, you see something shiny, and all other thoughts fall out of your head,” Merrin says.

“Nah, that’s BD, right, buddy?”

BD cackles and dashes off to scan the terrarium.

“Take your boot off,” Cere says.

“I twisted it, Cere, it’s nothing.”

“Take your boot off. Greez, grab me the medscanner.”

Greez never, ever, messes with Cere when she’s using this tone of voice. Cal, on the other hand, is not that wise.

“I twisted my ankle. Some ice, a few stretches, it’ll be fine.”

“And how are you going to apply the ice with the boot on? Take it off. Now.”

Merrin snorts. Cal levels a glare at her. She heads off into her and Cere’s cabin. Greez hands over the scanner to Cere. He gives Cal a nudge. “There’s no need to turn this into a fight,” he whispers.

It isn’t much of a flashpoint, but it’s one nonetheless and despite all this time together, no one has managed to iron out Cal’s ‘I’ll work through anything’ mentality. On top of that, he’s a young man who clearly wants to spread his wings. Greez gets it, he really does, but sometimes Cal needs a reminder he isn’t immortal. No, it’s simpler than that. Sometimes, he needs reminders that he doesn’t need to be in pain constantly.

With much eye-rolling and amateur dramatics, Cal reaches for his boot. He pulls, and Greez watches him literally go several shades paler. A funny gasp emerges from him, and he grabs the couch cushions, knuckles bleaching white. Greez hears Cere take a breath, ready to lecture, and reaches over to whack her on the arm. The woman really needs to know when to push and when to shut up.

It’s slow and painful (literally for Cal, based on how much he’s sweating), but the boot comes off.

Greez can’t help himself. “That looks broken.”

Cal is silent as Cere scans the obvious problem. Greez grabs an icepack, ready to put on the injury the moment they have confirmation.

“Yes,” Cere says. “Broken. It’s a hairline fracture, so a bone knitter and a few days of rest will fix it right up.” She reaches into the medkit once more and pulls out said knitter. Definitely an essential purchase, one they’d made not long after meeting Cal.

Head shaking, Cal tries to pull away. “I don’t need to rest it, I can manage.”

Certain he knows why Cal thinks he can ‘manage’, Greez slaps the icepack down just hard enough to catch Cal, who hisses and levels a glare at him. “You are resting it. Consider the rest of us at your beck and call.”

Cal pauses, turning the thought around. “Everyone?”

Greez nods. “Merrin!” Cal bellows at the top of his lungs. “You’re at my beck and call! Grab me a drink, please!”

#fic requests 2024 #star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo headcanon #jfo minific #cal kestis #bd 1 #greez dritus #merrin #cere junda

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nanawritesit · 1 year

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Irene Girlfriend Headcanons!

She prefers that you call her “Joohyun” rather than Irene. She wants to feel like you know the real her instead of her stage presence.

Speaking of which, she often slips into her Daegu dialect around you

You were never intimidated by her like everyone else was, you were warm and loving regardless of how “scary” she seemed

It took her a while to open up to you about her inner thoughts and feelings. She’s so used to bottling it all up in order to be a good leader that she doesn’t stop to think when she might need help

But you help her with that, constantly reassuring every single one of her insecurities. Even when she doesn’t ask, you’ll always be the first one to tell her she’s done well!

She cooks you seaweed soup every year for your birthday just like she does for the members 💚

Ordering her tea for her whenever you’re at a coffee shop because she’s too afraid of being judged by the barista for not liking coffee

Eating her vegetables for her (if you like them ofc)

Finally convincing her to stop dying her hair and stick with her natural black color because it’s her favorite and it suits her best

It took her a long time to accept it, but Joohyun is a lover of the simple things in life. You guys don’t need any extravagant outings or fancy gifts to be happy! Things like reading together, watching the sunset, taking walks, listening to music, cooking her favorite tteokbokki… those are what draw you together.

Holding her while she cries watching “The Notebook”

You started keeping perfumes in your car and carrying essential oils with you everywhere since she’s so sensitive to smells

You also help bring her back down to Earth when she starts spacing out, waving a hand in front of her face and never making a huge fuss over it. You just remind her what she was talking about and continue on with your conversation

Joohyun is also a lover of solitude. However you’re the only one she makes an exception for. She loves taking you to Ttukseom Island or the Folk Museum in Bukcheon. They’re her happy places and she wants to share them with you!

Because of her, you started keeping a journal. The two of you have nights where you just sit in silence and write together 🥰

She won’t hesitate to correct you on your spelling and grammar, even over text 😑

You feel like you learn something new about her every day. She’s always so reserved, and her mind runs at a mile a minute, so every once in a while she’ll just drop this huge piece of Joohyun lore that takes you by surprise

Always giving her your fortune cookies and lottery tickets because she just has so much good luck

If you play video games or do puzzles, and you just can’t get pass a certain stage, she’ll just walk over and figure it out for you in seconds, and it leaves you baffled every time

Making her show you how the heck she can draw a perfect circle (you still can’t understand after a thousand times)

She has a tendency to “mother” you. (Doing your laundry, making you go to bed early, telling you take your vitamins and drink water…) You’ll have to explain to her that while you appreciate her trying to help, she doesn’t need to worry about you so much!

She’s still going to do your laundry though. She just loves doing it too much not to.

I hope you don’t mind having a high heat bill, because Joohyun cannot handle the cold! (If not, you’ll have to loan her several of your hoodies and blankets!)

Comforting her whenever she encounters heights, water, or loud noises

Her manager tried to tell her to avoid PDA with you to protect her image and avoid a scandal, but she just can’t stop herself from holding your hand or clinging to your arm!

Once word gets out that the two of you are dating, she really has no problem telling the fans that while she hopes they can be supportive, she’s going to be with you whether they like it or not.

She would give up everything if it meant she could stay with you, and you would do the same for her in a heartbeat 💜

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phoebepheebsphibs · 3 months

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And the story goes on…

Spoiler warning for Until I Found You Lore.... CW: Mentions of torture, abuse, and experimentation.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau

Prev || Next || Reference image for Mikey’s scars || illustration

Mikey couldn't stop sobbing.

The other Donnie was writhing on the floor, screaming in pain as he gripped his head tightly. Something was wrong, something was very very VERY wrong...

But Michael could only watch and cry and shout at his brother to "Open the thing, open the thing up, Donnie! OPEN THE ORB!!"

"I'm trying!" his brother yelled back. "It's a different design from my tech, I'm doing the best I can considering I don't have my tools with me and I'm using my bare hands--"

The alternate Donnie started shrieking in agony, his cries ringing through the halls and echoing mercilessly in Mikey's head. He falls to his knees, the glowing marks on his arms and legs turning that evil shade of blue.

"PLEASE, DONNIE, HE'S HURTING! I CAN'T DO ANYTHING FROM IN HERE, PLEASE--"

"WELL EITHER GET APRIL TO POOF YOU OUT OR -- GOT IT, I GOT IT, I GOT THE THING TO OPEN!" UIFY Donnie yelled back, finally hacking into the sphere and causing the shields to dissipate. Immediately the three fall forwards, with Mikey regaining his footing at once and pouncing at the quivering Donatello on the floor.

Mikey wrapped his arms around Donnie, sobbing into his shoulder as he pressed his hands against his shell and the back of his head. A soft, warm amber glow began to spread over the shaking softshell, his eyes slowly refocusing as he turned and stared down at the copy of his brother. Apparently this Mikey was also in-tune with his mystic powers. Amazing, considering the age gap between him and the other Mikey, and the fact that they'd not even known about mystic abilities until they'd met Draxum and taken his magic weapons for themselves. This one must've been practicing magic for a while... Donnie's headache ceased. He watched as the tiny, trembling version of his brave baby brother kept pressing his small and delicate hands against his shell and neck, quietly mumbling to himself - praying possibly, or perhaps reciting a magic spell. Whatever he did, it helped tons. But it seemed to exhaust the poor kid as he slumped over, his head rolling into the crook of Donnie's neck and shoulder. Michael's soft, slow breaths tickled uncomfortably against his sensitive skin, and he flinched.

"Michael, get off of him!" the other Donnie said, coming forward and pulling the kid away. "If this Donnie's anything like me, he doesn't like to be touched. Especially after... whatever the heck happened to him."

"I-it's fine, he helped, he... What exactly did he do?" Donnie asked, slowly getting to his feet.

Donatello Von Draxum picked the child up and held him close to his chest. Mikey had fainted, it seemed, though his eyes fluttered open and shut several times. His head lolled from side to side, rolling around as if he was trying to force himself to stay awake but failing utterly. He mumbled softly, muttering whispers to no one specifically before finally succumbing to the exhaustion and resting his head against his brother.

"I'm... not exactly sure," Donatello Von Draxum mumbled, slowly pulling the bandages from Mikey's arms and checking for any mystic injuries. "Best guess is... he leant you some of his strength."

"His strength?" Dee questioned.

"Whatever you needed in the moment. Strength, presence of mind, life-force, that kind of stuff. It could explain why he's so sleepy now."

"Will he be alright?!" Donnie asked, hoping he didn't just cause a version of his brother to be in a vegetative state for the rest of his life.

"He's okay. He just needs a nap. It's nothing too extreme." Donatello Von Draxum looked over Donnie with concern. "YOU on the other hand..."

"Yeah. That was not fun."

"No fun in fungus, huh?"

"Roll credits," April interjected, having gone to retrieve Donnie's tech-bō for him.

"Very clever. I suppose... we should go look for Raphael now," Dee decided as he took the staff from the Mayhem-ified April.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest?" she asked, eyeing him nervously. "Those things have a way of draining you. Physically, just as much as emotionally."

"I am fine," Donnie insisted. "But you've got some... something on your arm."

"What?" April asked, looking down at said appendage, which had a black and blue smear across it. "Oh, ew, gross. It's the goo from that hand.PNG. Yuck! I didn't even notice that..."

Mutant April wiped the sludge off onto her jacket.

"No worries, I think I'm all good."

"What about Michael?" Donnie asked, pointing to the still out-of-it box turtle in DvD's arms.

"I can carry him," he insisted. "He weighs practically nothing. We'll be coming along."

"Good, the more help we can get the better. I don't think it's safe for anyone to split up anymore. Let's go find my Raph and your brothers," Donnie said, taking the lead.

The four walked on through the hallways, Mikey mumbling or muttering and even humming in his dazy sleep as they searched for the others. Donnie kept glancing over at him to make sure he really was okay. He seemed fine. It reminded him of the time his April had gotten her wisdom teeth removed, she'd sent them a video her mom had taken of her after she'd woken up from the surgery. They guys all had a big laugh over it, how loopy and looney she'd been, constantly gibbering about nothing and then falling back asleep. The memory made him smile a little. It helped to alleviate the stress, to simply pretend that was what had happened to this Mikey. And not that he'd sacrificed some part of himself for Donnie's sake. And not even for his Donnie's sake, for a complete stranger.

It was so unbelievably awkward.

The two Donnies barely said a word to each other. Donnie kept giving glances at Mikey and DvD would catch him, and Donnie's head would snap in the opposite direction. Poor April was stuck in the middle of their silence, doing her best to lighten the mood but eventually giving up and straying ahead of them.

Donatello glanced over at Mikey again. Michael had made some small squeaking sound - a yawn maybe - and curled up into his brother's hold. The bandages on his arm were loose... That's right, DvD had checked his arms earlier for cracks -- had that meant that there might actually be some danger to whatever spell he'd used to help Donnie?! He could see the cracks right there! DvD said he was fine, but Donnie could clearly see the holes and thin lines made from --

Holes?

Mikey's overuse of ninpo didn't make holes, they made cracks like broken glass that webbed across his arms! So, where had...

"Did you... want to hold him or something?" DvD asked.

Donatello was startled from his train of thought and realized he'd been staring at Mikey for too long.

"Oh! Um, no I didn't -- unless that is, you would like a break?"

"Like I said, he's not that heavy," Donatello Von Draxum repeated flatly.

"I recall. I was just worried for him, is all, and I--"

"You were staring at him."

"Oh, was I?"

"Quite obviously so."

"Ah. I apologize for the social faux pas of staring rudely at your brother."

Silence again.

"But do you want to hold him?"

"You are... offering?"

"Your brother is gone, for the moment," DvD stated. "And I saw how you looked at my Mikey. For you, there is precious little to distinguish the two. Correct?"

"Well... I suppose they are very similar," Donnie ceded.

"And he undoubtedly considers you family as well."

"That is evident, considering what he did for me."

"That's your fault, you know."

"Excuse me?" Donnie sputtered, stopping in his tracks. "How is it my fault for saving you three from getting spored?"

"Apologies, I misspoke. I merely meant that you did something that reminded him of... of something bad that happened to us."

"Then am I to assume that's why he reacted the way he did?"

"Precisely."

"I see."

Donnie looked down at the alt. Mikey, still fast asleep. He was so much smaller than his brother. So... petite. No, Miniscule. Maybe Runty. Donnie kept searching for the right word. Not weak, or tiny, he was so...

Frail. That was the word. Thin limbs connected to a slip of a body, a tiny round face with baby cheeks so slim and slender. He was just too small.

"...I think I will carry him. If only to relieve you of duty for a short while."

"Very well," DvD relented, carefully exchanging his brother into Donnie's arms. Donnie had carried his Mikey before, and even his Leo. Heck, he'd carried all three of his brothers on more than one occasion. He'd let them grab onto his legs or arms while he flew above the city with his hover-shell. It was quite a feat, all of them clinging together like the barrel of monkeys toys from their childhood. And he'd gotten his leg dislocated from its socket for the trouble, but that was nothing too bad really, and Leo had helped fix him up. He desperately missed his brothers... All this to say he knew what to expect, to carry a slightly smaller version of his baby bro.

The alt. Mikey was placed into his hold.

Ooooooh pizza supreme in the sky this kid literally weighed nothing.

Donnie's eyes widened. He'd expected some kind of difficulty, some weight, but no -- it was like carrying air. The only weight he could feel was from the clothes, it seemed. He'd estimated this Mikey to weigh somewhere in the vicinity of 70 pounds, maybe even 65. It felt like he weighed no more than 10.

"He's... he's so light..." Donnie's voice trembled.

"I did say he weighs almost nothing," DvD smirked.

"I thought you were using hyperbole!" Donnie snapped. "When was the last time this Mikey was weighed? He should have more tone in his muscles than this!"

"Well, years of near-starvation will result in major weight loss."

"Mikey -- my Mikey -- said he told him a bit about his life... but I never imagined..."

He never imagined this kind of troubled life for him. He knew the kid had a hypoglycemic condition, too. He couldn't imagine how difficult that had to have been for him. No wonder he was so skinny, his clothes baggy and nearly falling off of him, the bandages... Donnie's attention was brought back to the little boy's arms.

"...How did he get these...?" he asked softly, pulling the bandages off and showing the other Donnie the scars and marks on his arms.

Donatello Von Draxum went pale. He almost looked sick to his stomach, as he slowly re-wrapped the bandages for Mikey.

"...Those were my fault."

"Your fault?" Donnie was astonished. His voice came out as barely a whisper.

"Partly. Some of them were from me, some were from my father-- ahem. From Draxum."

"Draxum did this?" Donnie's blood began to boil. "But... why? And why did you--"

"The story is that I had left the Baron to try and start a new family with Mikey, Leonardo, and Raphael. I'd been... planning to trick our brothers into returning to Draxum so that they could join his army of mutants against the humans, but eventually I realized I couldn't go through with it. So I left without saying a word. Draxum got wind that his other experiments survived, and started searching for them. He found Mikey first, kidnapped him, and left a calling card for me so that I would know where he was. I confronted him, only to end up in a trap. He... he wanted me to return home and help him experiment on Michael."

"Did you?" Donnie asked, drawing the small child closer to him, holding him tightly to his chest.

"I had to. He threatened to torture Mikey, to intentionally sabotage his experiments on him and hurt him if I didn't assist. I had no choice. To ensure Michael's safety... I had to do whatever Draxum ordered me to. Day after day, it was nothing but surgery after surgery after blood test after--"

"I thought you said experiments," Donnie growled. Mikey whimpered in his hold; Donnie readjusted him slightly so he could rub his head to soothe him.

"That's what he told me, initially..." DvD continued. "But on the first day... he revealed his experiments were more medically-based than he'd lead me to believe. But I couldn't say no. He was going to inspect his spine, I had to stay and make sure he didn't--!"

Donatello Von Draxum covered his mouth as he gagged at the memory. His hands trembled.

"...It... It was inhumane. Unethical. Horrible. Even Huginn and Muninn - whom I don't typically get along with well but tolerated more than Draxum - agreed that his tests were unreasonable and not meant so much to inspect Michael's state but more so to punish me for having left Draxum and kept my brothers a secret from him. And Draxum kept it up for seven whole days. Most experiments and examinations were him cutting into Mikey with a scalpel and studying his skeletal structure and veins and nervous system first-hand. The rest were to see how his body reacted to certain potions and formulas and magic spells, to test his mystic endurance. He wanted to see if he could be a strong warrior... and if not, he wanted to see if he had any mystic talent."

"All that... just to know whether or not Mikey had mystic abilities?"

"I don't have any magic ability myself," DvD explained. "I know all the spells and potion recipes, I understand how to do it, and I know how it all works but... I'm disconnected from it. Draxum was always disappointed with me over that. He hoped that Mikey would show some promise."

"What happened?"

"He took it too far. On the sixth day, Draxum told me that Michelangelo possessed the greatest capacity for mystic power and ability to date."

"He what?!" Donnie yelled, forgetting the sleeping figure in his hands. "I mean, I know my Mikey became the greatest mystic warrior in the future, but... to have surpassed everything?"

"It came as a shock to me, as well. And Draxum said... He said he was going to take Mikey's powers away from him and then set him free. But it was all a lie. He was going to kill him... I fought with Draxum. I won. I took Mikey home."

Donatello could tell he was intentionally leaving out some big parts of the story. But based off of everything, he figure it was best to leave it unsaid.

"So that's why... Mikey leapt at the chance to help me," Donnie whispered. "Why he was so upset when he saw me hurting... it reminded him of you?"

"Yes. And it is also why he wears those bandages, though the wounds have long since healed."

"Why is that?"

"Because he knows that I feel responsible for that hurt. I did that to him. I helped to cut him open and chisel into his shell. I hurt him. But I'll never let anything hurt him ever again."

Donnie nodded, understanding that protective drive. He felt the same way about his brothers.

"In that case... maybe you'll want to carry him again?" Dee offered.

Donatello Von Draxum didn't even try to politely decline. He immediately reached over and took the boy away, who at this point was slowly coming out of his sleepy stupor. DvD held Mikey on his hip, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. Mikey groggily wrapped his arms around his brother's neck in a hug, yawning once more before going back to sleep. The son of Draxum felt the deep inhale and exhale from his little brother against his chest, proof that he was alive and well and trusted him above all else. DvD smiled, the first time Donnie had seen him smile -- really smile, not just an evil grin at the mention of humanity's destruction -- since he'd first met him.

"Do you think... my Mikey is okay?" Dee asked after the silence began to return.

"I am sure he is. He has you to look out for him. You'll rescue him, and all will be well again."

Donnie smiled.

"I hope so..."

"Hey, you lazy-bones!" April shouted. She'd gained a lot more ground than them during this bonding episode. "Hurry it up! I think I found one of the guys!"

…I have failed you, master. My injuries… they impede me.

They are inconsequential, my dear disciple. Rest easy, for you are still needed. You've done well thus far. But there is still much to be done if I am to take over this realm. So many tragedies to intercede, so many traumas to feed off of, so many toys to play with and BREAK.

But what of the others? Without my work—

I shall finish my collection soon enough. You did your part, and now we have a new player. Our new deliverer of destruction. They shall lead the others to their doom.

A new...? Do you mean you have infected one of the children? They serve our cause now?

Indeed, thanks to you.

How intriguing... but who...?

Rest for now, and regain your strength. Your services are yet to be utilized.

Very well... whom shall we be expecting to join us next, my master?

...I want the big one.

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mayaflowerxs · 2 years

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LESSON OF THE DAY

Synopsis: In his twenties and finally getting himself in a committed relationship means the lack of experience. And for being the best step sister you are, you help him get better by teaching him. A twisted way to have him wrapped around your finger.

Warning: SMUT . Stepbrother!Haechan x Stepsister!Reader. Cheating, swear word usage, manipulation, dumbification, jealousy, squirting, nonconsented recording, reader overall an antagonist, a hater and just not a good person. A slight Mean Girls reference ;)

Pairing: Haechan x reader

JUNGWOO

Masterlist: NCT AFFAIR SERIES

The spoon in your hand was gripped tightly. A large scowl on your face that you find impossible to cover up, eyes icy cold as you watch Haechan feed his girlfriend as if she isn’t capable of doing it herself. A scoff leaves your mouth as you manage to cover it up with a cough. Looking down at your food you continue eating. It’s not that your not happy for him, heck it’s a miracle the boy finally managed to get himself a girlfriend. The family worrying that with Haechan’s overly jokester side may result with him staying single forever and yet now that he’s finally here, with a girl by his side you really wished you’d go back in time to the times where you gave him hell for not being able to pull anyone. And now as the days go by you have no peace in your own house. Every damn day she’s here and her high pitched laugh makes your eyes roll once again, how you haven’t strained them yet is a mystery. You and Haechan don’t have the most solid relationship. I mean he’s a bit of a nerd. His friends have even created their own club because no other real clubs would accept them even though he claims they’re ‘too cool’ for the real deal. Hours constantly spent playing video games and binge watching anime. Reading whatever special edition comic book they purchased and spending all night on the phone squealing like little girls talking about their favorite part.

You were used to the boy that you constantly fought to get to the bathroom first. The one you bang on your wall to get him to shut the fuck up and the one you’ve encountered a few interesting run ins with. Several times you seen your step brother wearing little to no pieces of clothing. And while you, someone whose completely different from him. One who dares pretend you too aren’t ‘family’ because of how much of a loser he is, you have to admit he has a smoking body. One you tend to fantasize doing such vulgar things to you. Nights and nights spent locked in your room, hand down your shorts and eyes closed shut as your mind runs wild with the image of Haechan and his body. So maybe seeing him with a girlfriend is just ruining that for you. You no longer can see him as the dork who tries to prove to you that he can be considered hot. Trying to flex his arms and take cringy selfies. Now he’s Haechan, the guy with a girlfriend that can’t seem to stop sucking his face. She’s ruined him. Her disgusting lips on his, always finding a way to climb on his lap right as you enter the area. Pouting her lip injected lips to feed her and fake a baby voice to get him to do whatever she wants. He’s a loser yes but not a bitch.

And if he were to become a bitch. It certainly wouldn’t be with someone who has spent her daddy’s money to shove plastic in parts of her body that didn’t need them in the first place. And so when his girlfriend finally leaves and he comes back with a goofy looking grin on his face, you simply throw a pillow at his face to remove the idiot look off him. Without a word, retrieving yourself back to your room.

In college you’d expect it to be different from high school and in some cases yes. Thing is, the one thing that hasn’t changed yet is the status one has. Haechan is bunched with the geeks, nerds, and losers. Bottom of the list that is far from where you stand. Popular, rebellious, daring and witty. Many know you for many reasons. Good and bad and it’s why so many want to get a piece of you. To have the glory and say they got close with you. As ‘friends’ or hookups. You were seen as an ultimate trophy. And while you have a reputation to maintain, Haechan cared for no such thing. Partying? Nah. Getting high with friends on a random Tuesday? Nope. Shoplifting on a Thursday night? Nuh uh.

You don’t really understand where your mother and his father got the idea that you two would mix well. You two lived two completely different worlds, you always held some sort of resentment toward him. He was too good, too nice and too pure. You hated how caring he was. How forgiving he seems to be and it irritates the hell out of you. You practically see the bright white aura vibrating off him. But it’s also something you find endearing about him. A Friday night can end with you stumbling into the arms of said guy. Calling him in the middle of the night, pleading for him to give you a ride home and even though he told you the previous party it’d be his last time and with you promising that you wouldn’t get too drunk he still came to pick you up regardless. A hoodie over him, looking so soft and cuddly that has you craving him all over again. Wrapping your arms around him as you give his cheek a big smooch.

“Haechanie!” You squeal excitedly as you walk out the large house and into his arms. A small disappointed sigh comes from him but helps you stand regardless. “My feet hurt.” You pout, “Well you shouldn’t have worn heels and especially be out this late. Thought you promised no more.” Whining when he begins to nag, you nuzzle your face in his neck. “Carry me?” A thing you also know about the said boy is how difficult it is for him to say no. And at times like these, almost every attempt of yours end in your favor. Arm gripping behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground as he wraps your legs around your waist you try to ignore the throbbing feeling. Biting your lip as he makes his way back to his car. The lust was obviously building and the closer the proximity was the closer you just wanted to rip his clothes off him.

Coming home, Haechan managed to walk in without getting you two caught. House dark and quiet as he makes his way upstairs. You still cradled, arms secretly around his neck as your hot breath blows his skin. Chills that rises down his spine. Gulping as he tries to kick your door open and settle you down. You didn’t want to pull away, fuck you just wanted to beg him to take you right then and there. His messy fluffy hair and glasses propped on his nose was too much to you. How does the dork manage to get you so turned on? Taking off your heels and grabbing a wipe to take the makeup off. Pulling at the duvets to get you under but you whine, “Haechanie the dress.” Helping you get out of it, you lean in closer until your faces are only an inch apart. You hold back the smugness when you notice him gulp. Eyes going back and forth between your eyes and your lips. “Goodnight.” He quickly kisses your forehead and walks out. A bit confused that you didn’t give back a snappy remark at how soft he is. Something you always made it clear you hated.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Another fucking day with her here, hands gripped tight as she was practically grinding her ass on him. So ticked by her presence you made your way out of the living room and into the bathroom. Dialing a number you least expected, “Hello?” Lee Jeno, one of Haechan’s loser friends. Also apart of his dorky club, also a hacker. “It’s me y/n.” You say monotonously. “Oh! H-Hey y/n, I didn’t expect a call from you.” “Were you expecting any calls at all today?” Before he can stutter out another response you cut him off. “Listen I need a number, can you find it for me?” Hearing rustling from the other line, “Yeah sure! From who?” “The mother of Haechan’s girlfriend.” “Jenna’s mom? Why do you-“ “Jeno can you give it to me or not?” “N-No! No! I can, hold on just give me a second.”

A few minutes go by before another number was dialed. A few seconds later and the phone picked up. “Hello?” “Hey! Is this Jenna?” “No, Jenna isn’t here this is her mother. Who’s this?” “Oh! Well I’m Katie from Planned Parenthood, I was just calling to say that I have her test results. Please have her call at the earliest convenience, thank you!” Hanging up the call right after, you walk out the bathroom and back into the god forsaken living room in which didn’t take much for another phone call to happen. Eyes directly at the tv screen as Jenna answered, beginning to panic when she can’t seem to make her mother calm down. “I don’t understand? What are you talking about?” You can hear the shouting coming from the other line and with a proud smirk, you quickly wipe it off as she stands up abruptly. “I’m sorry I got to go, something’s come up. Sorry babe.” “Oh it’s okay! We can always hang out tomorrow-“

“Tomorrow? But Haechanie I thought you were going to come to my recital?” You say sadly, sad eyes as you stare into Haechan’s. “Oh that’s right I did say yes to that. I’m sorry Jenna, some other time?” Nodding her head, she grabs her things and goes to lean in for a kiss but you’re quick to stand up and ‘accidently’ knock into her. “Oops I’m sorry! Man I can be very clumsy.” “It’s okay.” She whispers, giving him one last goodbye as he walks her out. When the door finally closes you relax. Watching Haechan go back to the living room, you eye him. Hands to himself and pink cheeks. It’s obvious how inexperienced this boy is and how easily flustered he gets.

Going to sit next to him, you gain his attention immediately. “Hey.” He smiles warmly at you. “Are you a virgin?” His eyes widen at the sudden question, “What? Why would you ask such a question?” He laughs nervously. Face turning red with embarrassment. The little control you had quickly goes out the window as you climb onto his lap. Hands raised as he grows rigid. “Y/n! What are you doing?!” Cupping his face you lean in closer, “Have you ever wondered what it feels like to have your dick wrapped in a nice tight hole?” Gulping, he finds it hard to place his eyes at. Too embarrassed to look at you and too flustered to look below your face. And yet pathetically, his cock hardens at your naughty words. “Don’t say such things!” He tries to scold you. “Why?” “Because this is wrong- oh!” Tilting his head back as he feels you grind on him, face leaning down to peck kisses on his neck. Tiny hairs lifting at the touch. “My pussy’s throbbing for you baby.” Shaking his head, he sets his hand in your hips. Wanting to push your away and instead keeping you in place.

“We can’t do this y/n, we’re family now.” “We’ve never been family Haechan. Don’t act like you haven’t peaked through my door while I was in nothing but in a bralette and panties. Like you don’t fuck your pillow and whine my name.” Tsking, you take his hand and shove it down your shorts. A small groan escapes him as his fingers immediately gets covered in your slick. “My baby boy is all grown up, he’s got himself a pathetic girlfriend who’s obviously trying to take things further but you won’t. Tell me Haechanie, is it cuz you never been inside a cunt before?” Moaning he drops his head to rest on top of your breast and nods. Patting his soft hair, biting your lip as his large hand grips firmly on your hips. Loving the feeling of his hands, feeling yourself slowly go crazy for him.

“Poor baby so inexperienced, you want a lesson from me mhm? Want to learn how to fuck like a man?” Nodding his head pathetically he mumbles a soft please. “Can’t hear you.” “Please y/n. Please teach me.” Satisfied with his answer, you get off his lap. About to protest but he shuts himself off when you pull him by his collar. “Let’s go to your room baby, want the memory of finally becoming a man to stay in the bed you sleep in.” Haechan was painfully hard, pants tight for his comfort and it’s sad just how quick he fell under your trap. Eyes filled with nothing but a plead to fuck him senselessly. Pushing him back on the bed as you lock the door behind him. Climbing on top of him when you begin your assault on his neck. His breathing quickening as his chest heaved. Hands going back to holding onto you for dear life, eyes closed as he savors the feeling of your lips on his skin. Growing oblivious to you pulling out your phone and propping it on his nightstand. Camera app opened and facing you two in which you press play. A little gift you plan to make for his dearest Jenna.

“Touch me Haechan. Feel my breasts.” Guiding him up to cup your boobs , love seeing the hunger in his eyes. Love how captivated you have him. Taking your shirt off to give him a better view, push up bra working wonders for you. Giggling, you wipe the slight drool that falls out of his mouth. “So cute, all needy and drooling. You want me Haechanie?” Not trusting his voice he goes to nod but you have none of that. “No Hyuck, use your words. You want me?” “Want you so much.” He whimpers. Pecking his nose, you sit up and take off your bra. Letting your breasts fall freely, grabbing his hands to squeeze them. “Play with them baby, pinch my nipples feel how hard and sensitive they are for you.” He couldn’t help but arch his hips up. His hands felt great against your tits so great it’s sending shock waves to his dick. A rather loud moan emits from you from the unexpected thrust. “Fuck Haechan do that again.”

Obeying you he lifts his hips and he too lets out noises of pleasure. Biting his bottom lip to keep him quieter but a slight slap from you as you grip his cheek. “I wanna hear you Hyuck, be a good boy and be as loud as you can fucking get.” Taking off his shirt you lean in to start sucking large red hickies from his neck, not going lower until you find his soft spot he can’t stop taking large deep breathes. A red trail going down his chest, licking right above his waistline as you look up at him. Meeting contact with him as you proceed to undue his belt. Pulling his jeans back, a wet patch there that you can’t resist to lick. “Oh fuck!” He gasps at the sudden feeling. Head thrown back as his thrusts up again. “Hold my hair back baby while I suck every last drop out of you.” You tell him and go to pull down his briefs. His hard cock springing back to lay flat on his chest. Tip red and veiny, large and screaming to be touched. Feeling bad for the many years it’s only action it received was Haechan’s hand. Feeling his warm hands come to take a hold of your hair, gentle with it as he makes sure to hold every strand of it. Watching a few drops of precum ooze out of him, a hiss coming from him when you grab his dick, hips out of control as his legs begin to squeeze you in place. A smack to his thigh has him releasing his hold on you.

“Be good Haechan.” You tell him sternly as you lick his entire underside of his dick. A loud moan can be heard throughout the room, a proud smirk as you look over to the camera. Haechan in all his glory shown naked on his bed with his stepsister giving him head. Noises one never heard come from him. Dropping your saliva down on his tip as you use your hand to cover his entire eight inches wet. Veins getting more prominent and glistening by it. Tiny little feathery kisses planted on his tip, love teasing the shit out of him. Love seeing how far gone he’s getting. How loud you can make Haechan when it’s all just begun. Love how you are pleasuring Haechan and not her. You were going to take his virginity away and you will be showing Haechan no other woman is good enough for him. A silent promise that by the end of the night, Haechan will become yours and no one else’s.

“Please!” Haechan pleads as the teasing is getting too overwhelming. Tears begin to brim his sockets as he tries very hard to not hurt you by fisting his hand. “Fuck my throat Haechan.” “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbles. “You wanna fuck like a man? Then satisfy your lady, and I say. Fuck. My. Throat.” Having no other self control, he fists your hair and begins to force his inches up your mouth. Beautiful grunts come out of him with how great your mouth felt wrapped around his cock. His hand can’t fucking compare to the warmth and wetness of your mouth. Your tongue licking his cock even when it’s brutally slamming the back of your throat. The feeling so great he’s nearing his release so soon. Feeling blessed having no reflex, you let Haechan fuck your throat until his body pleads no more. Eyes always on him and his face scrunching. Brows furrowing and Adam’s apple becoming prominent. Sweat beginning to form on his forehead, a sight heavenly to you. “Angel I’m close.” He whines. Going to pull out, you grip his hand and push it away. Gasping when you begin to bob your head, sucking your lips to tightening your lips around his large girth. Tongue flickering back and forth around his tip as your hand goes to work for the rest that can’t fit your small mouth.

Going so fast Haechan is left gripping the sheets tightly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chants like a mantra. Head thrown back as he feels himself pour his semen down your throat. Looking back down and falling in love with you swallowing every last drop. Licking his tip clean and opening your mouth to show him not a single drop was left. Kissing his lips, he kisses you back just as needy and with want. Growing more confident he wraps his arms around you. Pulling you closer as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. Feeling and tasting himself, large hands cupping your face as his thumbs caress your cheeks softly. When letting you pull away for air you feel sex driven like never before. You’ve never felt so much desire to fuck someone until now nor the thrill of foreplay. And yet currently in your step brothers bed, him lying obediently underneath you. You just want to fuck him all day and night, with absolutely no breaks.

But this is all a teaching lesson. Haechan can’t be experienced if he doesn’t learn and while you really just want to hop on his dick, you force yourself to be patient. “Lay back down baby.” Doing as he was told, he waits needily for your next decision. Surprised when you begin to crawl up to his face. “Wanna be good? It’s time you repay me baby, eat my pussy.” He froze, confused on what to do next and he doesn’t start working you up until he feels your hand pull him closer to you. Shocked by how well he was doing, a pro working his game as if he’s done it a million times before. Room getting louder and louder with the combination of your moans and the slurping sounds Haechan’s creating. Hands gripping you down firmly on top of his face, needier than ever and hungry for more of you. Never did he think he’d love pussy so much and now here he is going crazy for it. For you.

This wasn’t his ideal way of losing his virginity. He always wanted it to be special and for that he thought special meant romantic and soft and yet having you suffocating his face with your cunt couldn’t get anymore romantic for him. Sucking and nibbling has your thighs shaking, body screaming for the upcoming release. Mouth hanging wide as your head is thrown back. In pure bliss by his mouth working wonders. “So good!” You praise him, something you notice brings him great joy. Proven right when he begins to nuzzle his face closer, refusing to tilt his head back for a breather. Loud sucking noises are heard and your moans turn into slight screams. Hands gripping the bed frame tightly as your entire body jolts. Hips lifting off his face that he quickly pulls back down. Forcing you to take every inch of his tongue shoving its way up your hole. Walls clenching and the familiar euphoric feelings washing over you. So strong you begin to see spots. So much spots. Finally pulling away to breathe, Haechan still doesn’t stop his assault on your clit. Rubbing harsh circles to get you to cum again. The idea of squirting on his face fascinating him. And with scrunched brows, he rubs figure eights quicker and continues to lick until you couldn’t anymore.

“Baby no more - God!” Words cracking and short breathes squeaking you feel another strong build up and before you can fully process it, you’re climaxing all over his face. So wet it was underneath you. Pillow drenched and thighs covered in your essence and still Haechan took every drop gratefully. Cute puppy eyes looking up at you, silently asking if he did alright as if he didn’t just get done fucking the daylights out of you with just his tongue. Climbing off him, chest heaving as you lie on the bed on the opposite end of him. Desperate to try and catch your breath that you don’t predict Haechan’s sudden moves. Chucking the drenched pillow off the bed and wrap your legs around his waist, he leans down to suck dark hickies on your neck. A confidence you never seen in him. Taken you by surprised but still enticed by it. A hand lazily run through his now wet hair. Hips softly grinding into yours, a moan from both mouths when your sensitive genitals touch.

“Need you y/n.” He whines in your ear. Lifting his head to look you directly in the eyes. Not being able to contain himself and leans down to kiss your lips. Loving the taste of your lips, obsessed with every part of you he can’t seem to feign ignorance after today. Feeling the passion through his kisses, a loving attraction one that screams how whipped he is for you. Pupils dilated as his brown orbs showed softness. Vulnerable looking face that looks at you for reassurance and guidance. His touches so gentle and kisses holding lots of meaning, how on earth could you ever deny him?

“Fuck me Hyuck.”

He does it gladly.

“Oh ! My…f-fuck…” Haechan can’t seem to put words together as the feeling of your walls wrapping themselves around his girth. So sensitive he fears he won’t last as long as he hopes. Having to freeze and compose himself which you give him time. A hand caressing his cheek, legs spread wide for him to have as much space as he wishes. “Take your time- Shit!” You didn’t expect the sudden hard thrust into your core. Each one, another harder and faster thrust has his pelvis coming in contact with yours. Your arousal completly covering his entire dick. So wet you’re almost confident the neighbors could hear. You couldn’t control yourself, your moans keep getting louder the more your stepbrother pounds you. He knows your body so damn well in such a short time. Knows how to angle his hips to fuck the blissful feeling into you. Thighs smacking into his as his hands keep you firmly on the bed. Wanting to see your face contort into pleasure every time he plunges his cock into you. Needs to know he’s doing a good job in satisfying you.

His thrust begin to falter its pace. Sloppier and quicker as he begins to reach for his high, shaking his head as he keeps tensing. “Not coming until you do.” He says huskily, eyes drawn between your swollen cunt and his slick covered cock. How well you fit him even with how big he is, proud you took him so nicely . Like you were meant for him and only him. Leaning down to peck your forehead, even with his lustful eyes he still shows fondness for you. “My angel.” He mumbles as he begins to shake from the need to fuck his cum in you. An arm wraps behind his neck, “Cum with me baby.” You whisper to him, nodding he applies most of his weight on top of you. Arms hugging you closer to him as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Soft kisses trailing up to your neck as he keeps pounding into you, biting his lip when he is reaching his end.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He breathes out as ropes of his warm white cum shoots deep in you, a slight bulge forming in your abdomen of the tip of his dick. Releasing around his dick you feel yourself get full. When you thought it was over he continued shooting more cum into you, so much pent up he concludes. Looking down to seeing some oozing out of you. Groaning as he lazily fucks into you, a slight frown forms when he sees more of his cum is slipping out of you. Pulling out, he is quick to salvage some of it with his fingers and shove them inside you. Pecking your stomach in comfort when you let out a loud whine. Gripping the messy sheets, eyes forced shut and head laid flat on the bed. Trying your hardest to not fall into subspace.

Feeling arms wrap themselves around you, you are picked up and engulfed in Haechan’s warm embrace. Plump lips pecking your temple as he pushes back your hair from your face. “Did I do good?” He asks nervously. “So fucking good. My good boy.” You play with his hair, seeing a small twinkle. The cute adorable smile and dorkiness making its comeback to him. Cheek covered in tiny kisses from him, you lay in his chest happy you achieved your goal.

You haven’t sent the video yet. You felt it was too soon, you wanted to make sure Haechan was yours all the way and it seemed to be proven correct by the subtle touches and clinginess he shows. “I see you two are really getting along!” Your mother claps her hands happily as Haechan’s father smiles warmly. She wasn’t totally wrong. The days they aren’t home it’s spent with your back blown and Haechan close to losing his voice by how well you suck him. As the days go on it’s even gotten riskier. At night when the desires are high, you couldn’t give a damn that they were in the next room to Haechan’s. A hand covering his mouth as you bring a finger to your lips. Bouncing on his cock as the bed slightly rocks into the wall, his hands already gripping tightly and securely around your hips.

During the day when they’re downstairs doing god knows what while you’re too busy being railed by Haechan in the bathroom. A leg lifted as he fucks you up on the sink, large mirror giving you two a full view of the sins you two were continuously making. Even in the same room as them you two dared touch each other. A movie night that has you two sharing a blanket ends with him shoving his fingers in your cunt and you fisting your hand around his hard cock. Finger furiously teasing the tip. At school you two even ditch your friends to go have sex. Janitors closet, bathroom stall, empty classroom. You two were sex addicts for the other. Haechan can’t stay away from you he needs you all the time. He feels sad when he can’t hold you. Something as simple as hugging you is a necessity for him and so when his girlfriend comes around and she’s the one hogging him rather than you he can’t help but find it irritating. He wants you and only you. No woman not even his girlfriend who he thought the world of can compare anymore. He’s falling in love with you and he doesn’t know whether he should worry or not but when the day ends and he’s back in your arms he know longer cares.

And so when Saturday came, roughly awaken from his dream of you. A loud shouting coming from the front door, he isn’t as bothered for the reasoning behind it. An angry looking Jenna, phone in hand showing him the video you sent her. An hour and a half of you two fucking each other’s brains out. Eyes bloodshot and hot tears smearing her mascara, arms wrapping around his mid waist that he soon identifies them as yours. A prideful look on your face as you lay soft kisses on his bicep. You weren’t worried nor anxious. Sending her the video was just the confirmation that Haechan was now officially yours and no matter what she has to reprimand him of, he won’t care.

“How could you!”

A shrug from him, had him closing the door in her face. Turning around and smiling down at you. Both parents out on a five day business trip, five days to show each other some more how well you two mix. Five days to show you how much he loves you and five days to show him you indeed have him wrapped around your finger.

“I love you.” He plants a kiss to your lips.

“So much.”

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morallyinept · 8 months

Text

Clickbait - A Joel Miller GIFLET

Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET?

Just a short 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration that I got from a GIF. Simples.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 867 - Broke the limit on this one. Oops. (Sorrynotsorry)

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶 "It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

This GIFLET was inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻

He brings his pointer finger up to his lips.

Don't make a sound.

You nod once; the barest movement of your head, as your eyes scan the room for the shadows you know are there.

Silently, and with the most careful of caution, Joel steps behind you.

He instantly stills, watching as the clicker passes. Its screechy howl is met with another on the far side in acknowledgement.

Joel looks down at you as his thick fingers trail over your lips, hand slowly covering your mouth as he crushes you slowly, purposefully, into his chest.

He can feel the thrum of your heart as his other hand is placed over your clavicle, keeping you still.

His fingers trail down your front and lift the hem of your shirt.

You push back into him, hand slowly reaching behind your ass and you can feel the bulge he pushes into you. Flaring, your heartbeat erratic, you smile around his fingers; warm breaths against the centre of his palm.

He slips his hand slowly down the front of your jeans and you spasm when he finds your clit through your swollen, drenched folds.

There's a screech closer beside you, almost in your ear and he stops. The warm, rough pad of his middle finger paused against the slick of your bud buzzing under his finger. Aching for him to stroke it, tap, squeeze - anything right now.

You push back into him and the warm whoosh of his disgruntled breath floods past your ear.

Wait.

Once the clicker passes, his finger carries on stroking and you tense. Your hand squeezes around the thickness of him, as he rubs faster circles and figure eights, feeling your body tremble against him.

You hear your slick squelch lewdly, so does he.

So does the clicker.

Fuck.

It screeches and lurches in your direction.

Quickly, Joel's hand is out of your jeans and wrapped around his rifle. His middle finger glistening on the trigger, he fires - once, twice and it falls dead to the floor at your feet.

The other one comes running at the commotion. He shoots several times; the outer fungus being an impenetrable wall. Eventually the clicker falls to the floor with a choked scream.

Joel looks at you and nods once, and it's enough for you to slam yourself into his arms as he falls back against the wall; his breath knocked out of his lungs and into your face.

Shakily, he unzips his fly and you're shimmying your jeans down. You're both clumsy, breathless messes as he grabs onto your hips and bends you forward.

He shunts himself hard inside you. You want to cry out at how thick he is, stretching you open. But his giant hand engulfs your mouth before you can. A squeezed hurrmph is pushed back into your lips by his palm.

There are more clickers in the building and the gunshots just alerted them to your presence.

This has to be quick.

Joel jerks forward: his cock barraging in and splitting you open as he thrusts faster, deeper. Your orgasm is on the brink of exploding out of you already and down your thighs.

You both need this; unable to resist the fizzing adrenaline pull of each other. Flouting your desires so brazenly, even when death looms so close to your faces.

You can hear their heavy thuds on the floor above you.

Joel jerks quietly; you feel him fuck deeper into you as he silences his own satisfied grunt by throwing the crook of his arm across his mouth as he builds, almost there.

You turn, silently panting and reach for him; squeezing at his stomach, his thigh - whatever you can grab a hold of as you build. His hand grabs yours and squeezes back.

Come for me.

You mouth his name silently as you gush all over him.

Joel.

His eyes roll up into his sockets before he squeezes them shut. His hand comes down to rest on the small of your back; his thumb stroking the skin gently there as he empties.

You feel him pooling around you as he pulls out. You quickly pull up your jeans as he tucks himself back in.

You smile at him from the crook of your mouth and he looks away, listening. You see a pink blush mottle over his nose as he reaches for his rifle.

Joel steps over the dead clicker and looks around the place furtively before turning back to you and nodding his head outwardly.

Let's go.

You cross your hands over each other; gun and torch aimed as you hear the screams of more infected coming your way.

Once it's done and you're both outside, you squint in the sunlight.

Joel slings his rifle over his broad shoulder. Eyebrows knitted together in that trademark frown as he picks bits of splattered fungus from his sleeve.

You lean up and brush a quick peck on his greying scruff; you can't help yourself.

As you pull away, he grabs you by the wrist.

You look down at his grip softening and his fingers locking into yours. He yanks you forward and kisses your mouth, slowly. Delicately.

Finally letting out that long grunt of satisfaction.

🖤

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller story #joel miller fic #the last of us #hbo the last of us fanfiction #joel miller giflet #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys #jett's giflets

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endlessmidnightcreates · 6 months

Text

Finally was able to finish the character sheet of my girl, Opal Skai for my most recent DND campaign. It's going super well so far!

Can you see all the lil notes I made, I had a lot of fun doing those :3

Here's the low down on her below the cut

She is a Fire Genasi Druid who is all smarts and like 2% fight despite her ferocious appearance (some would say). She is sometimes seen smoldering or glowing. But she is a Huge Nerd and Babygirl and a bit odd.

Opal is a Bookshop Keeper in Baldur’s Gate. Even though the town is regarded as a nest of vipers, she values knowledge and community and takes pride in the family library/store that she runs with her mother. People around it respect her and the store and it’s seen as neutral ground and is both used for gang negotiations and occasional toddler reading circles, sometimes in the same day.

She Spends 50% her time in the store, 30% in nature and doing #HotDruidShit (like hot girl shit but with druids) and then the other 20% vibing. She’s quiet, but not shy and actually quite talkative when the moment is right (someone asks her a question about a book–or she’s drunk). She will talk and say hi and bye to people on the street. When it comes to fighting, she prefers not to but that won’t stop her from slapping a bitch (with her hand or staff). But like she reeeeally prefers not to (int. modifier Is -1). Mainly cus she’s Genasi and she is mostly untrained so she would rather not kill someone. But she’s capable.

More Deets

Occupation:

She owns a small bookshop specialty store. Well, technically it belongs to her mother, but it will go to her once she retires or dies (god forbid).

Denizens of Baldur’s gate can get a wide range of books and scrolls as well as several common herbs and spell components. Everything from eye of newt to various animal bones. She partly keeps it stocked with her own foraging as well as having a supplier and an elderly mother (human npc) who watches over the shop and manages logistics. She manages the front of shop. Having read all the books and catalogued everything in the store, she has begun to work on her every-expanding growing “To buy” list that consists of various rare books and magical items.

She has started to take on minor mercenary/adventurer jobs to build up capital. There are expensive texts and components in Elturel that she wants to get her hands on. These jobs have ranged from delivering 20 rabbit pelts to serving court papers in creative ways (read: transforms into a cat and tricks them into letting her in). Though, for some of the more rare artifacts, she figures, the easiest way is to tag along with one of the many Adventuring parties in BG to gather information on its whereabouts.

Class: Druid

Why is she a druid. Druidism runs in the family. Opal’s mother and a few aunts and uncles are and were druids. Her grandmother was as well. It was only natural that Momma Opal taught the ways to her flaming baby. But Opal was resistant to the lifestyle as a young one. The spells, the philosophy, heck, being around leaves as someone whose average body temperature could easily reach 300°C made it difficult for her to find the value of the practice. She figured that blacksmithing would be more useful. Being a Druid helps her live more in harmony with the energies and elements that swirl around in her blood. She’s a valued member of the Druid Community in Baldur’s Gate because she’s just a cool gal, but also because she has helped many a druid get lava flowers (a flower that grows inside volcanoes)[i also literally just made that up]

Combat

Opal has only ever unwillingly killed once. She was on one of her many quests. She was an ox, lugging a massive stag carcass behind her. Bandits attacked her and she fought them off, maiming a few and kiling one instantly. The others escaped. She went straight home, fleeing the scene. That was the first time she had ever been attacked. She was rarely provoked or approached in human form because of her stature. But as an ox, people didn’t recognize or fear her. She missed a big payday that day. She doesn’t know if they survived or not. She tries not think about it often.

Fighting and killing are not things she often does. She’s the type of gal to grab a spider and let it outside rather than smush it. But– She CAN do it. She CAN fight (in humanoid form) and she CAN and WILL hurt someone if they hurt or try to hurt her. She will turn into what the situation needs and act accordingly - need to make a quick getaway? HONSE. Need to serve court papers? KITTY. Need to slap a bitch? HUMANOID

She will not attack unless provoked physically. Her moral code is fuck around and find out but reeeally hopes that they don’t have to find out, cus she doesn't know herself tbh.

Childhood:

Opal doesn't know much about her Genie father’s side, though he comes to visit often enough from the elemental plane. She also has a way to contact him whenever she wants.

She has 12 aunts and uncles who are scattered throughout the country, quite a few of them are druids and frequent their local bogs while the others reside in normal villages and have average families and lives. Opal has ALOT of cousins.

She has an aunt and uncle who live in other parts of Baldur's gate. they sometimes take shifts at the shop. All of them contribute to building the shop’s library and maintaining goods. Her aunt is an adventurer while her uncle is a cook at a tavern.

Religion:

She believes in the spirit of nature. Thus she tries to respect it whenever she has the opportunity. Aside from that, she tries to be respectful of everyone else’s gods, except the evil ones (like bal) or the ones that expect an unhealthy blind devotion. She’s not a devout worshiper. Prays on occasion to the universe but other than that, she focuses on her own actions.

#DND #my character #dnd character

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void-ink-studios · 6 months

Text

Myth of the Wishmasters - Part 2

Alright, here we go Part 2 babyyyyyyy!

And thus, we've reached the ending of Wrath of the Wishmaster, at least for now. 50,000 words, 164 pages, and 20 chapters. Damn.

I hope this is an ending y'all can be pleased with. Your kind words, comments, and reblogs have honestly meant the world to me,

Thanks for getting me to accidentally participating in NaNoWriMo, ya hecks.

If you started following me for this fic, I hope you stick around. I do some other pretty neat stuff, writing included.

So, without further ado, here we go. Enjoy, y'all.

*psssst*

Hey!

There's also art under the cut!

Word Count: 3,300

Scarab carefully watched Prismo's face flip through... several colorful emotions.

Confusion, shock, befuddlement, all within a beat of very loud silence.

"...Wh-What...?"

Scarab tried to stand up a little straighter. He could do this. He had to do this.

"I asked... What would you wish for?"

"...Like, hypothetically?"

Scarab huffed, gracefully resisting the urge to facepalm. Glob, his love was a bit dense sometimes, wasn't he? "Prismo... I want to grant you a wish."

That just seemed to further baffle the Wishmaster, looking at Scarab like he'd grown a second head.

"But... what? Scarab, you know you can't grant my wish, right?"

Now it was Scarab's turn to look confused. He tilted his head at Prismo. "And why not?"

"Well... Wishmasters don't get wishes? Like, I can't just grant my own wish, I thought that was kind of obvious."

Scarab chirped, considering. "Well, sure, you cannot grant your own wishes. But... well, I'm not you, am I? There has never been two Wishmasters before."

Prismo blinked dumbly at him, like Scarab might as well be talking gibberish.

"Scrabby, Lovebug, I get what you're trying to do but... I don't think that's how this works...? I don't get to... y'know want things? I grant wishes for others!"

He laughed nervously, looking at almost anything in the Time Room other than Scarab. Until the beetle took his hand into his talons, giving his hand a tender squeeze.

"Prismo... You know you're allowed to want things, yes? I though you were finally... realizing that." Scarab gestured around the Time Room.

Prismo made an uncomfortable noise, looking at the floor.

"Not really...? Well, I mean, it's different. It's... It's one thing to, like, decorate the Time Room. It's simple. It doesn't... I dunno, rewrite reality. Me wishing for something could... could...."

"Could what?"

"I don't know Scarab! Break the multiverse?!"

"Prismo. You exist outside of time. Outside of most of reality itself. It's true, we don't know what might happen if you wish for something... But..."

Scarab made his way up Prismo's arm, onto his shoulder, to nuzzle his face sweetly.

"...You have done... so much for me, Prismo. You've done everything. My life, my eternity, is infinitely better with you in it. So... I'd be honored to do this for you. Let me have the honor of being the one to grant you your wish."

Prismo sputtered for a second, Scarab could see his brain stalling for a moment.

"I-I dunno, Scarab... It could just... not work. I wouldn't want your first granted wish to be a dud. And... what if this wish... takes us away from each other...?"

"If it does, then..." Scarab hesitated. "Then... I'm am thankful for being at least a part of your eternity. I would be happy, knowing I gave you something no one else could."

Prismo sniffled, shaking his head. He let his head fall into Scarab's side as he thought.

"...I..."

Prismo started and stopped a few times, trying to find the words. Scarab lets his talons run through the Wishmaster's curly hair.

"...Can I... think about it?"

"Of course, love. Take all the time you need."

Prismo gave his side a kiss, Scarab relishing in the close contact. He knew his Wishmaster had... quite a bit to think about. And that was okay.

It was a big shift for Prismo, him wanting things.

The two returned to a comfortable routine, thankfully in an unusual doldrum of Wish Makers. Prismo spent a lot of time staring at a blank lap top screen, thinking quite loudly.

Scarab made no attempt to ask again. He knew Prismo. He'd come forward when he was ready. If he was ever ready.

"...Scarab...?"

Prismo broke the silence one day, hesitant and unsure.

"Yes love?"

"...I think... I think there's one thing I could wish for..."

"Oh?"

Scarab put the book he was reading down, giving the Wishmaster his full attention.

"It's just... I like my life. A lot. I don't want what pretty much everyone who comes here would wish you. More responsibility would give me headache. I don't want money or wealth. I have you, and the life we built here, and that's perfect for me. But..."

"But...?"

"I've just been thinking... What happens when your... tenure here is over? We don't know when or if the Organizer might pull you back as an Auditor, and... well... I... I don't think I could stand it if I couldn't... If I couldn't be with you. But, I'm here, on the wall, except for extremely specific circumstances. It's never... bothered me before. But... Well, I wouldn't be able to hug you. Or kiss you. Or even just touch you."

Scarab listened, intensely.

He'd admit it, he didn't consider what would happen if he was ever called back. If he was ever made Auditor again, even if it was only part of the time, what would happen to his contact with Prismo...?

"So... I think I've got my wish, Scarab."

Scarab nodded, standing up, ready to listen. "Go ahead, love."

Prismo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, steadying himself. Scarab could only imagine how strange it must've been to be on this side of the transaction for the Wishmaster.

Prismo mouthed something to himself, possibly double checking his wording. Now or never.

"I wish... I wish for those who hold the title of Wishmaster, as granted by the Dreamer... to have the ability to choose the form they take while in the Time Room."

Scarab felt the magic wash over him. It felt like it his body was emptied and refilled with something wild, chaotic. His thoughts raced, trying to fill in the gaps, just like how Prismo said. He looked at his partner, bracing himself, taking a breath.

"...Wish granted."

At first, nothing happened. A few beats passed, and nothing happened.

At least the multiverse didn't instantly delete itself!

Prismo blinked, looking at his hands, hesitant.

And then he reached forward.

The two sat in stunned silence as... a hand emerged from the wall.

Neither breathed for a long moment.

Prismo experimentally flexed... his hand. That was his hand. The fingers twitched as he turned it in all directions. It looked almost like it was made of gas, something fluid and constantly moving. It shimmered a deep, rosy pink, flecks of sparkling stars scattered across the knuckles.

The Wishmaster pushed further. A hand, then an arm, then a shoulder. A gradient from rose to his signature light pin, the flecks of stars traveling up the arm like freckles.

"S-Scarab...?"

"It's okay, love. Come on out."

Prismo took a deep breath, closing his eyes tight before stepping out.

Scarab felt his breath hitch. Oh dear Glob... Prismo was beautiful. So, so beautiful. His skin swirled and shimmered like a pool of water, looking far more ethereal than the beetle was expecting. Sitting in his chest was a glowing star, it's gravity holding the body together. Two shooting stars orbited around his chest, one a bright gold, the other a deep blackish-purple.

He was still mostly human shaped but... there was still something surreal about him. Alien. Otherworldly.

Prismo shook his head, seemingly getting used to the sensations of his own body.

"S... Scarab...?"

"Oh, my love... How do you manage to look more gorgeous every form you take?"

Prismo gave him a shaky smile, standing on shaky, uncertain legs. He looked at himself, really looked at himself, in wonder.

And then let out an undignified squeak at the realization that he was nude. He dove into the blanket pile, emerging with a pout as Scarab had himself a hearty laugh.

"Oh ha-ha, yeah, laugh it up." The pout wasn't serious, Prismo seemed far too enthralled with the prospect of his new dimension.

"Scarab! Scarab, come join me!"

"Me?"

"Yeah! I did say "anyone with the title of Wishmaster" didn't I? That's you too!"

Scarab seemed to only just register that that now applied to him. He made an excited chittering sound, hesitantly emerging from the wall. He felt odd, like he was on the verge of floating away, yet distinctly there. He was the same pale blue as his projection, but otherwise resembled his physical body pretty closely, just with the same swirling cloud appearance to his shell.

Scarab eagerly dove in to join the blanket pile, holding Prismo close, nuzzling and kissing him sweetly, lovingly.

"This is wild, man... Like... I'm sitting. Sitting in the Time Room."

"Right... quick point about that..."

Prismo cocked his head as Scarab climbed up to the entrance to the Time Roon and tried to stick his arm out. The gas that seemed to compose their bodies dissipated and faded up until his elbow.

"These forms extend only within the confines of the Time Room."

Prismo thought for a moment, but nodded. That was fine. He could requisition a body if he ever needed to leave the Time Room.

"Lovebug. Thank you... Thank you so much."

Scarab smiled, quick to rejoin his beautiful Wishmaster.

The two fell into a new routine soon after. Prismo found out pretty quickly he could dive in and out of the wall as he wished, change sizes, and float around the Time Room. He took a delightful amount of glee in dressing himself, finding himself a collection of loose robes, ones that hung off his shoulders lazily. Scarab was honestly a little surprised at the how conservative Prismo decided to approach jewelry. Unlike his usual routine of making himself sparkle like a treasure chest, he opted instead for simple earrings, a necklace, and arm bands.

He looked like something truly divine. Something awe inspiring.

And Scarab, of course, took to making some new additions to the Time Room. Specifically, a designated seating area, a luxurious spread of couches with pillows and blankets.

And boy were the looks they got from Cos and Death something else.

The Organizer seemed to pause for the first time in the eons Scarab knew her.

"...Hey Scarab?"

The beetle chirped, cracking an eye open to look at the Wishmaster. They were piled onto the couch, Scarab lounging on Prismo's chest, content.

"Yes, love?"

Prismo adjusted the hold he had on Scarab, nuzzling his neck. "I was wondering something."

"That's often worrying."

"Hey" Prismo scolded, unserious.

"Fine, fine. Carry on."

"...What would you wish for?"

Scarab froze for a second, thinking. It's not like he hadn't thought about it before. He's thought about it for centuries. Obsessed over it, even.

But that was before he would ever go to Prismo for help.

And... when he did finally understand that Prismo was someone he could trust... he shoved that wish down into his gut. He would never want Prismo to think he only got close for a wish...

"...I've thought about it before..."

"Really? How come you never made a wish then?"

Scarab made an uncomfortable chirping sound. He head swirled. He... he felt pathetic for feeling this way, but... he didn't feel he deserved it.

Not after this long...

"...It's... complicated."

Prismo hummed, rubbing Scarab's back softly. "...Would you want to make a wish?"

"...I don't know. I..."

Scarab sat up, sighing softly. Prismo followed him up, cupping his cheek reassuringly.

"...For... for the longest time, I had... convinced myself I didn't deserve it..."

"...Deserve what, Lovebug?"

Scarab nuzzled into Prismo's hand as he sighed.

"...My wings and antenna."

Prismo nodded in solum understanding.

"I... I spent so long convincing myself that I deserved what happened to me. That... I broke the rules, so it was the natural and deserved outcome. I used... so much reasoning to try and make it stick. That... that it was better that that had happened, since no one liked bugs. So, the less I looked like a bug, the better... I told myself if I couldn't remember the homeland, who was I to demand my heritage back. I told myself it made me stronger..."

Scarab blinked a few times, willing away the tears.

"But... Glob, Prismo, you've been tearing it all down. You made me realize how... terrible what happened to me was. You like my... less conventional features. You made me remember my home more in the past year than in the last hundred thousand. But..."

"But?"

"But... I don't want to... erase what happened. As much as I hate it, it shaped me into the person I am now. And that's the person who loves you, who has this life. If I knew this was waiting for me at the end, I'd do it all over again."

Prismo nodded, pulling Scarab into a soft hug. "...Regardless of the decision you make... If you want to make a wish, I would be honored to grant it for you."

Prismo kissed his neck, making Scarab chirp happily. He purred for a long time, taking the moment to think. To process.

"Prismo."

Scarab sat up, looking the Wishmaster in the eye.

"I wish... without altering my history, and without depriving anyone else of their body or body parts... to restore my wings and antenna in a way I can control, dismiss, and alter."

Prismo seemed to take a moment to think. Then he smiled.

"Wish granted."

Scarab felt his back tingle. His head itch. The torn ends of his wings felt... ticklish almost. The beetle took a moment to examine the feeling, taking a few steps back from Prismo to kneel.

"Go for it, Scarab. You can do it."

Scarab still hesitated. He'd never felt more scared to open his elytra, not ever since his wings were taken from him.

"You deserve it, Lovebug."

Scarab took a deep breath and let his shell open.

He felt something whoosh across his back. He kept his eyes frozen to the ground. There was something... strange on his back, a strange... heavy weightlessness? He didn't even know if that made sense, but that was the best way the could describe it.

"Lovebug... Look."

Prismo sounded in awe. That probably a good sign, yes?

He turned his head, slowly.

And he felt breathless.

He could see where his real wings ended and these new ones began. They were detached almost, floating an inch or two off the tattered ends. He gave them an experimental flap, chittering in delight as the motion flowed nearly seamlessly.

They looked gorgeous. They weren't his wings, but that was okay with him. They reminded him a bit of the false wings he made for the Gala, with the hand and eye patterns, now with the addition of star motifs.

He took a moment to experiment. He could summon and dismiss them. His fingers could trace the edges, but phase through the membranes.

He took a long look at Prismo before bursting into happy sobs. The Wishmaster was quick to scoop him up and hold him close, running a gentle hand between the base of his wings.

"P-Prismo..."

"I know Lovebug. I know. They're so gorgeous. You're so gorgeous. I'm... sorry they're not attached, or that they don't look like yours but... I dunno, think of them like prosthetics."

"They're perfect, Prismo. You're perfect. Wait, hold on, I need to try something..."

Scarab followed the tingling itch on his head, feeling a ghostly pair of antenna uncurling over his head. Again, they didn't quite feel right, that same heavy weightlessness, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the smack in the face the smells of the Time Room hit him with. The perfume of the flowers, the vinegar of pickle brine, and...

Oh.

That was Prismo's smell. Scarab dove his face right into Prismo's cheek, nuzzling, antenna finally able to card through his hair and touch his skin. And he could smell him, he could smell Prismo, a combination of spice and ozone, and he could smell himself all over the Wishmaster's skin.

There was something intoxicating about that, something that made Scarab not pick his head up again for quite a while. Prismo held him all the way through it, humming and rubbing.

"Prismo...?"

"Yeah, Lovebug?"

"...Thank you. For everything."

Prismo hugged him tightly.

"You can thank me" he started, kissing his neck and jaw sweetly, "by being mine. For the next eternity."

Scarab's face flushed blue, but he nodded eagerly.

"Yes. Yes, I am yours. You are mine. For the next eternity, my love."

Prismo nodded back. "For the next eternity."

-------------------------

They speak in legends, in tomes, in myths, of the Wishmasters.

At the beginning of it all, in the Age After Nothing, there emerged the one called the Wishmaster.

In the center of everything, in the center of nothing, there is the Time Room, domain of the Wishmasters.

In a place at the center of time, in a place where time cannot touch, there is the one called the Wishmaster.

It is a god of no equal. It is a god of many names, in many forms. But it is always the one called the Wishmaster.

And in this era, the one called Wishmaster is of two beings.

How one meets the Wishmasters may very. It takes something powerful, something capable of building a bridge into the void. But all require a piece of the Eternal Dream, for it is the Dream that is the threads of the Void. Objects with fragments of the Dream are the most reliable vector to crossing into the Void.

It is two beings one might be greeted with.

The Living Dream known as Prismo, and his protector The Star Auditor known as Scarab.

Prismo is always there. He is aloof, but a comfortable being. He is a creature of comfort, lounging in a self made sanctuary of pillows and blankets, surrounded by perfumes of the Dream Lilies hanging from above. Leaving him gifts of crystals and jewelry may earn you his favor, although even then, that is not given liberally.

The Time Room is his Domain. He can freely move between and from the walls, for the walls are at his command.

Scarab is a feature only on occasion. One should rejoice if they commune with the two Great Wishmasters. He is orderly, precise. One might think this sparks conflict between the two, but instead it brings harmony. He is a god of intimidating disposition, but reasonable if approached without fear. He is even less liberal with favor than the Almighty Prismo, but offerings of fruits and rare teas may give you a chance.

The Scarab and Prismo are protective of each other. When approaching, do not offend either. Do not disparage the other. They are a pair, equal in all things.

The Almighty Prismo and Scarab, the ones called Wishmasters, offer the same bargain to any who find his domain, his domain of the Time Room.

One wish, anything your heart desires, you may ask of him. And he will make it so.

But do beware, wish makers.

Realities may warp or split or merge, people and objects may shuffle through time and space, memories, lifetimes, erased or rewritten forever. But they will make it so.

For the Almighty Prismo is not cruel, he is a tricky one. For the Almighty Scarab is not deceptive, he is percise.

Any wish lacking detail, they will fill the gaps. And lapse in thinking, and forgotten factor, and unforeseen consequence, they shall consider. To those they favor, they may advise. To those they don't?

Well, you will receive what you wish for.

Whether or not you can live with that is not a trouble for the Almighty Prismo and Scarab.

They are the crossroads, the boundary, the space between it all.

If one is lucky, they might hear the song of the Wishmasters. One might bare witness to the great wings of the Almighty Scarab, as they two circle each other in a cosmic dance. Do not disturb them if you find this majesty. Consider yourself blessed, and listen to the strange song of the divine.

For this is the nature of the Wishmasters.

Mismatched, yet incomplete without each other.

Together for eternity.

Thus is the myth of the Wishmasters.

#prohibitedwish #scarab x prismo #scarab the god auditor #prismo the wishmaster #prohibitedwish fanfic #Wrath of the Wishmaster #my art #digital art #prohibitedwish fanart

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royallygray · 2 months

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Scar HC S10E12

actually welcome to Scar Says Sus Stuff

this was supposed to be me talking about my favorite parts or parts I want to share but it's just the sus parts and several things that I specifically liked

like. a rly in depth AO3 comment except with a YouTube video.

spoilers for his video

(I haven't watched most of scar's episodes so far)

-- --

1:01 "grant me access to the hole" scar. scar please. your wording. fix it. but also never change we love you but oh my god SCAR

it is actually triggering me that he's just casually on three hearts. my man PLEASE EAT

3:53 "I'm gonna wait for [Grian] inside of his mouth"

5:38 "well now Skizz and my bits are all mixed together"

6:06 "I fall for it EVERY time, by the way" -Skizz. I love Scar and Skizz, the two gullible-est people bonding over how they're gullible. It's genuinely somehow wholesome.

6:20 "something of substance was gonna come from this"

6:44 SKIZZ COME ON MAN I HAD FAITH IN YOU WHAT THE HECK

6:51 There was PASSION in this. Scar go off on them YEAH

7:33 how did I know he was gonna be one block off. rip scar you tried o7

7:40 "he didn't get inside my hole at all" SCAR.

8:17 "we could get six horns" the word horns sounds like hoards. and also kind of the other word.

8:39 (for one frame) the inside of scars face is cursed

10:17 THAT WAS SMOOTH THAT WAS SO SMOOTH IM OBSESSED??? SCAR YOURE A MAGICIAN. A WIZARD. THAT SNAP. IM OBSESSED.

but also. scar. why do you have a tnt minecart as decoration. scar I don't have high hopes for this room. scar you come from the Life series. scar. it's gonna die. someone's gonna shoot it with a flame bow I guarantee it

10:46 LMAO the way he tried to say cartographer sounds so. like. idk endearing or smth idk. Like he tried to breathe in and talk at the same time.

11:05 "I've just realized I kind of look like a composter" that is the entire clip by the way. all you out of context makers, I need that in there. idk if it'll be as funny as it is in here, because seriously, the delivery of having literally no other context other than it just being a random thought that popped into Scar's head is so funny to me

11:41 scar at the goat horn shop what will he do. I'm not mad scar. I think you're an adult who is making decisions with their fictional money. and you deserve it. you deserve that goat horn.

11:52 I lied put it back

12:44 WAIT YOURE GONNA PUT TURTLES AND DOLPHINS IN HERE THATS SICK I LOVE IT

in seventh grade we did an essay on whether zoos are good or bad and while I do love scars character in this I literally cannot stop thinking about it :(

13:15 SCAR THAT WAS TOO SMOOTH I--OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD THATS SUCH A COOL TRANSITION AND ALSO THE SOUND EFFECT OH MY GODSSSSS

ALSO YOU SWIRLED TO SUCH A COOL NEW THING WHAT THE HECK WOW LIKE OKAY

wait oh my god it's a sink?? the water and lava?? oh my god??

14:55 damn Gem and Grian's spike has grown

15:35 scar I don't think you remember where your stuff is in the first place. at least like this it'll look cool. although the underground weird chest monster has character and I actually kinda like it in the same way that I like when my floor is a mess because it just feels inhabited and has personality

15:58 oh my god scar you transition god

16:33 scar why are you there

16:35 Etho I appreciate you LMAO

17:19 Etho have you seen Skizz's storage. it's. bad. like. it is worse than Scar's. Genuinely. It gives me pain.

17:25 THE PEARL DOORS. THE BOATEM PEARL DOORRSSSS also scar going through the middle even tho Etho literally opened the other door for him LMAO

17:32 ah yes dig when there is an entrance yes yes

17:43 honey roofs. I see you're obsessed with Joel's gift mr. slab.

this scene is actually amazing. I've never seen Etho and scar interact 1 on 1 (I don't watch a lot of Scar, and I have watched Etho a total of approximately once. his videos are rly long) and also just. Etho's system is so cool.

also Etho's storage system is adorable :D

I like both storage systems. Etho's is significantly more functional (and less likely to explode, scar that minecart is making me wary) but I really enjoy the aesthetic of Scar's.

thank you for coming to Royal says stuff, go watch scar's video, it's great.

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft 10 #mcyt #goodtimeswithscar #ethoslab

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lets-try-some-writing · 1 year

Note

Blind starscream au, everyone forgets that he's blind until he points that out, cue the awkwardness

More blind Starscream, heck yeah. I love this mech so much, especially when he just does not give a frag.

Forgetfulness

Megatron

The first time it happened on earth, Megatron was issuing orders as usual and was looking over a map of the battlefield not recalling that Starscream was literally unable to see it.

Megatron: *pointing to the map* We will strike here! Starscream will lead the assault!

Starscream: *sarcastically* Ah yes, I can definitely see where exactly I am to attack, obviously.

Megatron: *silently sending starscream a set of coordinates over comm link instead* You have your orders, get going!

They didn't talk for a week after that incident. Megatron was too embarrassed at his blunder to even try to make amends and so just avoided the seeker.

Soundwave

As a general rule, Soundwave and Starscream don't interact. But the singular time Soundwave seemed to forget that the seeker couldn't see was something that stuck in both their memories. They had run into each other in the halls and Soundwave had suddenly stopped Starscream from continuing, gesturing to a sign that specifically pointed toward the area being off limits.

Soundwave: *gesturing with a nod and his cables toward the sign that says "keep out"*

Starscream: *irritated* Use words Soundwave. I am no psychic.

Soundwave: ...

Soundwave silently sent Starscream the warning over a comm link before walking away without a word. He would never admit his blunder to anyone.

Knockout

The Decepticon medic was in the middle of working on a Vehicon while he was gossiping with Starscream when he asked for the seeker to pass him a tool. Starscream of course gave him a look that quickly make Knockout realize his error.

Knockout: That sounds dreadful! Could you be a dear and pass me that scalpel?

Starscream: Ah yes, I will certainly pass you the small item that I can most definably see.

Knockout: ... My apologies.

They continued chatting as it nothing happened but Knockout screamed internally afterwards.

Breakdown

Normally Breakdown is very aware of Starscream's blindness and takes extra care to not mention it while still accommodating it. However on one occasion where Starscream's sensors were out of commission, he straight up forgot about the seeker's disablement.

Breakdown: *throwing a lob ball at starscream* Catch!

Starscream: *proceeds to get hit and fall flat on his face*

Breakdown: *softly* Scrap.

Breakdown went to Knockout with several scratches and a blaster burn later that day and he never forgot that moment, often having it come back to haunt him late at night.

Shockwave

Shockwave never actually forgot that Starscream was blind, he just didn't care and wanted to watch the seeker seethe while he tried to figure out how to find the thing he was asked to get.

Shockwave: Starscream, I require the third smallest beaker.

Starscream: Ah yes one moment, I will get it once I get my sight back.

Shockwave: Starscream, I require it immediately.

Starscream: *pointing to his lightless optics* How am I supposed to find it you slagger?!

Shockwave: You are resourceful, I am sure you will succeed without aid.

Starscream spent forty minutes trying to find the beaker. He never found it and resents Shockwave to this day.

Optimus Prime

It wasn't really that Optimus forgot, more like he simply used the wrong phraseology.

Optimus: Can't you see all the harm you are doing?! Starscream: No actually.

Optimus: *staring blankly for a moment* ... Allow me to rephrase. Do you not feel anything for the harm you are doing?

It was slightly awkward and Starscream has occasionally mocked Optimus for it since.

Ratchet

While doing a repair for Starscream, Ratchet temporarily forgot that Starscream literally could not see how bad his injuries were.

Ratchet: How in the pits did you do this? A gash of this size...

Starscream: It's that bad?

Ratchet: Yes! Can you not see-! Oh...

Starscream and Ratchet both coughed awkwardly after the fact and neither have spoken a word on the subject. Although on the odd occasion where Ratchet is feeling a little evil, he will exclaim something about Starscream having a bomb stuck to him during battle, temporarily causing the seeker to flail.

Arcee

Her situation was less awkward and more angering than anything else. She was in the middle of confronting Starscream for the death of Cliffjumper when she made a slight blunder.

Arcee: You killed him! Did the sight of his spark puttering out not cause you to feel any remorse!

Starscream: I didn't see it, so no.

Arcee: Why you little-!

Starscream was only barely saved from having the life beaten out of him by the team and he has since been careful around Arcee for fear of angering her further.

Bulkhead

He was in the middle of battle and trying to find a way to disorient Starscream when he messed up a bit.

Bulkhead: *tossing dirt at starscream to try and blind him* Take that!

Starscream: *unphased but a little irritated* How cute.

Bulkhead: *remembering* Oh fra-!

Simply put, he returned to base far more singed than he would have otherwise liked.

Bumblebee

While Starscream was a prisoner of the Autobots, the seeker's wings, and therefore his sight was put out of commission. And forgetting this, Bumblebee led the seeker straight into banging his helm against a doorway.

Bumblebee: *in binary* This way.

Starscream: *walks straight into the top of the doorway, hitting it with a nasty thunk* FRAG!

Bumblebee: *internally screaming at himself*

Bumblebee never forgot that particular blunder and he has since taken care with other prisoners to ensure the same thing doesn't happen twice.

#maccadam #transformers #transformers prime #blind starscream au #starscream #team prime #decepticons #ridiculous #poor starscream #he runs into everything without his sensory enhancers #probably walked straight off a cliff at some point

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