#i love his name so much i love tucker hes very neat to me

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

BTHB - Going Into Shock

Malik does a little arts and crafts project and makes a self discovery along the way (:

Finally I've had the time to finish this stupid fic. The irony that it took me twice as long to finish a WIP that's almost half the amount I usually write is not lost on me...

As always, if there’s a tag I missed or anything you’d like me to specifically mark, please let me know so I can add it for future fics!

Taglist : @whumpsday @painsandconfusion @suspicious-whumping-egg @t0rture-me

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CW: Graphic depictions of blood, Cutting (Of Another Person), Mentions of Self Harm/Suicide, Creepy/Intimate Whumper

Word Count: 5.2K

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There was something satisfying to Malik in the way his and Jonas’s names were complementary to each other. Five letters, two syllables, alternating between consonants and vowels in a pattern. When Malik’s name was written in all capital letters, it was made up of sharp angles and long lines. When Jonas’s name was written in lowercase, all the letters curved into soft, round shapes. His name could loop over itself a dozen times when written in cursive whereas Malik’s still remained uniform with straight peaks, much more orderly and neat. The name Jonas was more fun to scribble with the flick of the wrist, but the name Malik was easier to scribe with simple marks.

Therefore, it made sense that it should be Malik’s name he cut into the quivering flesh of Jonas’s forearm. Tempting as it was to sit here with the pretty boy squirming in his lap while he tried to finesse his blade into carving neat curves, there was too much room for error to mess up the calligraphy. Skin was a soft, fickle organ that liked to split into large gashes if the angle of the knife was too bent. One tight curvature could accidentally dig deeper into the fatty layer,  creating an unsightly flap of skin dangling off the appendage rather than a perfect loop. Jonas’s name was very lovely, but it wouldn’t do to mar his body with failed attempts at lettering, not when Malik could write his own name perfectly on the first try.

And really, what better way to remind Jonas of who he belonged to than the elegant marking of his captor’s name taking up a majority of his forearm? To remind everyone, honestly, both in public and post mortem if it came to that. Thin, silver scars surrounded by colorful bruises on tan skin, what a pretty visual. A wound that could heal from a series of bloody cuts to dark scabs to discolored skin, but never truly fading the same way split lips and fracture digits could heal themselves. Jonas would carry Malik’s name with him forever whether he made it out of this basement or not, unable to forget him for a second unless he willingly amputated the whole arm to no longer see the reminder. 

The idea of Jonas mutilating himself to such an intense degree gave Malik butterflies in his stomach.

He hadn’t even been intending on branding the poor boy with his name when he originally began carving into Jonas’s battered skin. For some reason, Malik had woken up with the innate desire of making the other bleed, so that was exactly what he did. He wanted to see Jonas drenched in blood, be it his own or splashed with someone else’s. He wanted to see thick, dark beads of red running down his neck and steadily dripping from his fingertips. He wanted to see old and new injuries hidden behind a thin layer of gore. He wanted to see gorgeous green eyes running over with tears to cut through the sticky stains on gaunt cheeks. Red and green were perfect complementary colors as well, weren’t they?

Unfortunately, he didn’t have any spare ‘actors’ at the moment to siphon a couple buckets of blood from to paint Jonas himself. Double unfortunately, the amount of red he wanted to bleed from Jonas would most certainly kill him. While that wouldn’t be too horrible of a thing to watch, Malik was still under verbal contract with Tucker to keep the Belmont boy alive until the ransom deadline was up…whenever that was. As much as he would love to hold tight to his writhing form while the life slowly drained from a multitude of bone deep cuts, Jonas needed to remain breathing and (mostly) in one piece. For now. So, Malik had to make do with what he had available to him: a pretty boy, a hunting knife, and two slender arms begging to be littered with superficial slices. 

He couldn’t go too deep with his cuts and risk nicking a major artery, yet Malik wanted to make sure the skin had been sufficiently hacked so the wound healed with a lovely pale scar. Many years ago, when Malik was only allowed to photograph the cadavers brought into the backrooms of his father’s funeral home, he asked about a woman that was being prepared on the table with wicked gashes down her arms. There were telltale signs of old, pink cuts going horizontally over her wrists, but the long, inch deep slash from her elbow to her palm on each arm were what was listed as her official cause of death. His father, ever so eager to teach his son the studies of mortuary, explained that by cutting straight down she was able to dig into the main vein in such a way it would be extremely difficult to stop the bleeding, similar to when someone had their throat slit.

That was when Malik learned the intricacies of cutting. The difference between truly wanting to bleed to death and just wanted to bleed as some form of release, be it pleasure or pain. It was down the road, not across the street, he memorized. Cuts going side to side in short, light strokes could still bleed in varying degrees, enough to satisfy his craving to drain a person a couple pints without worrying about stopping their heart. It wasn’t just the blood he had a morbid fascination with, but the reactions people had about having their skin peeled and sliced when they weren’t intending to self harm. The way the muscles and tendons tensed, causing more blood to well out of the cuts. The way they struggled in whatever bindings Malik had them strung up in. The tears, the whimpers, the screams, all for something that could be patched up with some gauze, maybe a stitch or two.

God, it was killing him not to stab the knife into Jonas’s shoulder and drag the blade all the way down his arm to the tip of his middle finger, scraping against bone and severing as many vessels as possible along the way. To flay the entire limb and watch the blood squirt from his ruined wrist like a grisly fountain, red raining down in a puddle onto the floor to bleed him dry in a matter of minutes. Malik wanted to hold the boy close the entire time and revel at the progression from thrashing to weak squirms to limp to stiff. From hot to cool to frigid. From wet to sticky to dry, crusty red flakes. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t an animal, he could restrain himself just fine from the visceral urge to mutilate Jonas for overwhelming pleasure. 

As soon as that deadline was missed, though, Malik was diving straight into his pretty little intestines with his bare hands.

Jonas arched his back against Malik’s chest, unhappy with the close proximity that came from being forcibly situated between his legs on the floor. Or maybe he was unhappy with the fresh collections of cuts now decorating his right forearm. Really, Jonas should be thankful Malik was kind enough to snap off the zipties on his wrists for any extended period of time, even if one arm was trapped between Malik’s bicep and side while the other was firmly grasped in his free hand. The arm was fully extended to reveal his skinny canvas of tan and mottled purple skin, the flesh twitching as the rest of Jonas trembled and broke into a cold sweat. Six slices of varying angles presented themselves in neat little lines, weeping beads of blood that trickled over the curve of his arm to drip onto Malik’s jeans. 

Sure, it wasn’t the bloodbath he was craving to submerge Jonas in, but it still made his heart beat with excitement hearing the boy mewl through the duct tape over his mouth. Bony limbs tried to wriggle out of Malik’s hold to avoid any more wounds, thin legs still bound with rope kicking against his boots. The way Jonas’s head lolled back onto his shoulder, inadvertently pressing into the crook of his neck felt wonderfully intimate. Warm tears sliding over his cheekbones to soak into Malik’s sweater was an additional bonus, of course. He was panting hard, unable to fall victim to full hyperventilating as he could only puff air through his nose. While Malik was a fan of all the noises that have ever spilled out of his mouth, but he really didn’t need Jonas hollering at the top of his lungs right in his ear. It was a shame; it meant he also had to silence all of his endearing sobs and pleas with a gag. 

Malik had just finished another line across the poor boy’s wrist when he noticed an interesting pattern in the cuts. Because some of them were slanted while others were straight, it almost looked like a blocky ‘M’ had been written in blood. How fitting. If he focused on different cut placements, one almost looked like an ‘A’, though it was missing its middle dash. At that moment, it was as if a lightbulb went off in his twisted mind. What a fun way to keep this game going, making Jonas wriggle and bleed for his amusement. Making Jonas bleed for him. He had always been Malik’s current favorite, he openly admitted as much, it would do good to solidify that statement. Bruises and bloody noses could heal, though maybe not the missing pinky finger, but this would be a claim to last for the rest of Jonas’s life. Whether that meant another miserable sixty years of living or until next Wednesday didn’t matter much to Malik.

He released his iron grip on Jonas’s thin wrist, much to his relief. The bloody limb dropped to his side, red smearing on his nightshirt and against Malik’s thigh. It was impossible to miss how the entire arm was shaking, as if it was a seizure isolated to one area of the body. Intriguing how even after having his finger amputated for a ransom reminder, after taking so many kicks to the ribs and stomach, after being (accidentally) starved and smacked and strangled, Jonas still had quite a low pain tolerance. Was he hemophobic, Malik wondered? Surely not, the Belmont heir had seen plenty of viscera when Malik needed to keep him near whilst doing his…work. Maybe it was different seeing someone else’s blood compared to your own, to know it was oneself bleeding and in pain. Malik hadn’t even cut that deep, he made sure he wouldn’t mistakenly let Jonas bleed out in his lap! Still, the boy was moaning and trembling like he had ripped the artery out and showed it to him. 

So dramatic. He hoped he would continue to put on this cute little show when he cut up his other arm. 

Duct taped muffled the strangled yelp of pain when Malik swapped his hold on his arms, switching to extend the fresh one while sandwiching the still bleeding one against his body. He could feel the warmth of blood prickling his side, the fabric of his sweater irritating the open wounds enough to make Jonas whimper on contact. Poor thing kept instinctively trying to yank his arm out of the hold, worsening the stinging pain with each unsuccessful tug. When Malik flipped the unmarked arm around into the same position as before, Jonas shook his head in an attempt to convey the pleads trapped behind his gag. He didn’t want to go through this again. He didn’t want to feel the bite of the hunting knife digging into his already tenderized flesh. New tears cascaded down his paling cheeks, unable to do much else. If it weren’t for the duct tape on Jonas’s mouth and the bandana on the lower half of Malik’s face, the older man wouldn’t be able to stop himself from locking their lips together to steal every last pretty sob from his lungs.

“What’s wrong, lover?” Malik crooned, knowing full well that Jonas wouldn’t be able to respond to his rhetorical question. “Does it hurt? Do you want me to stop?”

Jonas nodded like he was trying to break his own neck. Curls matted with crusted blood and damp with sweat nuzzled against his covered jawline. They had felt so soft when Jonas first arrived. Malik loved threading his fingers through the chocolate brown locks to yank him up to eye level. He should hose him down some time in the near future to clean off the build up of grime and gore, revealing once again clean, soft skin and fluffy curls. Almost like a fresh canvas. If said canvas had already been slashed with a palette knife and stained with colors of purple and red. Maybe he should bring Jonas upstairs to let him use the employee shower with Malik, or maybe he should just dunk his head under water in a basin. Depends on his mood.

He hummed, the vibration of his voice echoing through his chest and against Jonas’s back. The way he shifted uncomfortably from the sensation, unintentionally nestling further between Malik’s legs, made the other tighten his hold on the fragile wrist. God, it would be so painfully easy to snap the joint backwards. Jonas would probably scream, perhaps even vomit. He was so pretty when he was heaving bile and blood and spit. Damnit, Malik should have set up his camera to record this whole ordeal to watch back later. Oh well, there would be plenty more opportunities to make Jonas squeal for his amusement. Like in the Red Room. Just imagining Jonas strapped to the gurney, helplessly staring up at Malik with those terrified green eyes, trembling lower lip begging to be bitten and bruised skin quivering under Malik’s hands while he sings such pretty pleads.

Can’t get too ahead of himself. Need to focus on the task at hand.

Malik twirled the handle of the hunting knife between his fingers before adjusting his grip, pressing the tip into Jonas’s forearm just a bit past the inner elbow. “You know what they say: suck it up, buttercup.”

Unfortunately for Jonas, there was hardly anything he could suck up with his airways being restricted to his nostrils. The duct tape across his mouth tried to expand and contract with each failed gasp, creating the faux sense of suffocation as Jonas wasn’t able to hold onto a full inhale. His adam’s apple bobbed with each silenced cry, kicking his bound legs with renewed vigor while Malik carved the first of many lines needed to spell his name. The kicks were weak, barely nudging his boots to the side, stifled by weeks of depleted energy and ankles bound like a fish tail. It was cute in a way, to watch Jonas struggle with all his limited might while Malik didn’t break a sweat to keep him securely in his embrace. They just fit so perfectly together, the boy’s lithe frame easily swallowed up by his larger, stronger form. So perfect perfect perfect–

The moan of pain caught in Jonas’s throat when Malik finished carving the last line of the ‘A’ would have made a lesser man blush. Such sweet sounds whimpered by a pretty boy. If his hands weren’t preoccupied with marking his claim, he’d love to squeeze them around the Belmont heir’s abused windpipe, adding to the collection of finger shaped bruises, feeling the pulse flutter against his palm while more whines vibrated into his skin. Maybe later. Right now, Malik was focusing on the delicate work of his bold calligraphy, keeping his lines as straight and even as possible. No sense in making it look like chicken scratch. He wanted it to be clear and legible.

When Malik dug the blade down the forearm to finish the tail of the ‘L’, Jonas howled as much as he was physically capable of. While the cut itself was nowhere near as long or deep as the typical wounds needed to end a life, it must have still hit the same bundle of nerves to cause such an immediate reaction. The slash welled up with dark droplets of blood faster than the other slices that were only now beginning to trickle down the curve of Jonas’s arm. This time, that arm that had already been subjected to a cutting session reached up to paw at Malik’s bicep in a panic. Four remaining digits uselessly dug into his sweater’s sleeve, trying to pull the offending limb away from how it coiled around Jonas’s chest that heaved with uneven breaths. All he was managing to do was give a few frenzied tugs, like a child eager for their parent’s attention, making little difference to Malik.

Still, he made a point to shift his arm to readjust the snare across Jonas, squishing the flailing limb further into his side. The boy yelped, the collection of cuts slowing into a sluggish drip but still stinging something fierce when compressed. To further regain his compliance, Malik squeezed the wrist of the arm he was in the midst of eviscerating. The bones painfully grinded together, popping the joint with a weak crack to send an extra tingle down the inner nerve. Jonas lurched at the new shock of pain, throbbing instead of burning hot, a little break up in the monotony of his torture session. With just a little bit of extra force, Malik could bend the brittle bone and snap it like a twig. Honestly, it never felt like it would take much effort to tear Jonas to shreds, piece by piece, limb from limb. And from there he could carry his remains upstairs in buckets to the embalming room to be hand stitched back together, preserved in scars and chemicals until at last he rotted to bones.

Since when had Malik become so sentimental, wanting to save his dearly departed lover until decomposition claimed them at last? Sure, he’s kept the odd memento mori – or trophy, or whatever people wanted to call it – from a select few of his favorites. Just a pocket urn with a bit of their ashes before he cleaned out the cremator. It helped put the memorial vases on display in the front viewing room for grieving families to peruse their options. What a strange feeling this was. Foreign, out of his usual routine. 

Interesting.

“Quit your fussin’. If I mess up, I’m going to have to start over,” Malik warned. To Jonas’s credit, he stopped his pained squirming, but there was little he could do to quell the involuntary trembles that wound his muscles up so tight. That was fine, nothing he couldn’t manage on any other Tuesday afternoon.

Even though the thickness of his sweater, Malik could feel the way Jonas’s skin was becoming clammy with sweat. Granted, he had always run at a much cooler body temperature than Malik, especially now that he had been locked away without sunlight and iron rich (or frequent) meals. It wasn’t just blood leaking from the cuts now, but his internal source of warmth was being sapped with each drop running down his arms. The shaking was getting worse; a combination of overly tense muscles and an unbearable chill seeping into his bones. Jonas was more than welcome to press himself as tightly as he wanted against Malik’s chest to steal a bit of heat. He certainly didn’t mind sharing. 

What was most strange was just as Malik finished the simple line meant to be the letter “I”, the muscles vibrating with terror practically went limp. Not completely, but enough for him to notice the way Jonas sagged fully into him. The arm was still taunt, stiff like rigor mortis while the nerves flared to keep the limb aware of the damage it was sustaining. Good enough for him. Jonas’s head drooped down, yet little moans were continuing to squeak in his throat, a sign he was still conscious. Malik rolled his shoulder to be able to force the boy’s head back up. Need to make sure he was still awake and aware to enjoy the show of his mutilation, now tucked up under Malik’s chin. The sight of his bloody arm, one letter away from spelling out his captor’s name permanently, made him gag on a sound that was unable to slip through the duct tape. Considering he had yet to feed Jonas today and was about…sixty percent sure he didn’t remember to do so yesterday either, there was nothing to worry about him choking on stomach contents if he truly needed to retch.

Ah, shit, it was low blood sugar, wasn’t it? The pain and gruesome nature was horribly distressing to endure, of course, but the lack of glucose in his steadily dripping blood wasn’t doing Jonas much favors. Without any sugar or water in his system, coupled with the overwhelming emotional trauma he’d been experiencing daily under Malik’s care, it was making him much more susceptible to falling victim to shock. Pathetic, really, to see the younger man shutdown the same way previous victims had when he had flayed their stomachs to poke around their intestines on camera. Honestly, a couple tiny puddles of blood was his body’s breaking point? How disappointing when this was only the tip of the iceberg Malik had in store for him. They would need to work on building that tolerance up quickly if he were to have any fun with his new lover.

Oh well, he was almost done at this point, Jonas was just going to have to tough it out while he added the last two lines needed to make the letter ‘K’. It was funny, ironic actually, that when Malik strapped him down to hack off his finger for dear ol’ mom and dad’s collection notice he never succumbed to any type of shock. He screamed and begged and sobbed and writhed, even before the digit was actually severed, yet he still didn’t pass out from the pain or a seizing heart. Perhap this reaction was just an accumulation of everything Jonas experienced over the last several days. His poor, weakened organs unable to take the continued stress anymore, needing a break from the constant rush of endorphins to repair the damage taken. Malik will be sure to give him a shot of morphine and something sweet to prevent any future relapses.

The chest under his arm started to slow its short, hyper gasps in favor of deep, though still uneven, sniffles punctuated by quiet groans. If Malik had to guess, those lovely green eyes were probably unfocused and rolling back, no longer damp with tears. That wouldn’t do; he was already being nice enough to contain the raging need to paint Jonas red in favor of a few, simple cuts. It was the least the boy could do to stay conscious enough to keep playing this game.

“C’mon now, none of that,” Malik scolded, giving him a light shake back into wakefulness. “I have plenty of things to perk you right up if you’re going to be difficult.”

He smirked behind his mask to see Jonas fight with the urge to submit to his own body’s needs. The ingrained need to comply with his captor, the fear of being subjected to anything worse than what was happening now, led him to resist the physical desire to relax into a mental reset. Shock could be quite fatal if left untreated for too long…well, the medical kind of shock, with infected blood and all that fun stuff. Psychological shock though? Malik couldn’t be too certain. He supposed now would be as good a time as any to let the results run how they may. Worst comes to worst, there was a defibrillator in the Red Room he could charge up to get Jonas’s failing heart back up to speed. Plenty of former victims had passed out as a result of what they’ve seen compared to what they physically experienced and turned out mostly okay.

The tip of the blade punctured the tan skin for the last time as it sliced a short, diagonal line to complete the final letter in Malik’s name. A fat drop of blood was already chasing after the knife when it removed itself from the carved flesh, making way for a stream of red to trail down Jonas’s wrist and smear along the fingers holding it steady. There was no need to dig his hunting knife into the poor, abused arm any longer, but that didn’t mean Malik couldn’t take delight in ghosting the flat edge of the blade over the inflamed cuts, feeling the swollen bumps rise and fall against his weapon. Thicker puddles of blood were crudely wiped away by the caress, ripping away still damp scabs that were trying to stop the leakage of red dripping down Jonas’s forearm. Even with so much blood welling up and obscuring his recently signed name, Malik was still able to see a faint outline in the pattern of droplets that clung to the skin. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Malik asked, only receiving a weak moan in response. He at last pulled the blade away before it could nick anymore of the flayed flesh and dropped it into Jonas’s lap. It was lucky for him it didn’t land on its tip to embed into his thigh. “Here, hold that for me, lover.”

With his hand now free, Malik forced Jonas to bend the arm he had been holding straight out so that the wounded limb was brought closer for the two of them to observe his handiwork. Poor boy, if it wasn’t for his weak stomach and steadily crashing blood pressure, he’d be able to grab the carelessly discarded knife and stab it into Malik’s neck fifteen times. But he couldn’t, and Malik knew as much. Cold fingers remained loosely curled in on themselves, useless to do anything. He wondered if Jonas was even aware enough to appreciate the cruel taunt being left out to him. These kinds of games weren’t nearly as much fun when the one on the receiving end wasn’t lucid enough to respond. Malik would have to settle once again for a watered down version of what he was actually seeking from Jonas. Couldn’t drench him in his own blood, couldn’t make him squeal for hours on end, what a disappointing day this has turned out to be.

There was always tomorrow, though.

Malik pressed his thumb into the middle of the collection of cuts, marveling at how excess blood was pushed out of the wounds to run down the forearm. The hiss of pain Jonas tried to suck in through the duct tape made him smile again. Despite his body failing him, the shock of adrenaline was just enough to make the exerted heart pump faster for a moment, causing the flow of red on both arms to trickle out a few extra drops. 

With his thumb still aggravating the wounds, Malik rubbed the digit to clean away some of the mess to better see his claim spelt out in inflamed ridges. “What do you think, hm? Do you like it?”

No reply, unsurprisingly. Not even a little whimper or a single tear to be shed. As badly as Jonas wanted to obey the command of staying fully conscious to endure Malik’s whims, it was a losing battle with the toll it was taking on his body. Malik supposed he could grant him this one, small mercy of being allowed to pass out now that the session was done. Such a good boy, sticking it out until the end, though he wasn’t able to fully enjoy the visual of Malik’s bloody name as his clouded green eyes had lost the ability to focus some letters ago. He deserved some kind of reward for that, perhaps. Or maybe a punishment after Jonas woke back up for not reacting how Malik wanted him to. Decisions, decisions…either option could be quite fun.

“Aw, c’mon now, lover, don’t be that way,” Malik crooned as if Jonas was pouting and not actively going into shock. He still looked awfully cute slumped in Malik’s embrace, partially tucked into his chest and smeared in his own blood. “Too much fun already? What’s the part that got you all tuckered out? Was it the blood, or the pain?”

Even if Jonas had the strength to move his tongue to form coherent words, he wouldn’t have been able to answer the barrage of questions with the duct tape firmly silencing him. It didn’t seem like Malik was genuinely looking for a response anyhow, shifting the Belmont heir’s limp body in his arms so that he was better cradled sideways in his lap, allowing for a full view of his sickeningly pale face. With so much color drained from his cheeks, the dark circles under his eyes looked more prominent and sunken. Jonas needed a little pop of color to brighten his features back up. Something to contrast nicely with his dull, half lidded eyes and ashened skin. How convenient that Malik’s fingers were still slick from playing with the slowly congealing wounds on his arms. Like a child finger painting their masterpiece, he swiped one blood soaked digit from each end of the duct tape over Jonas’s lips, arching the path upwards to create a faux red smile.

It looked quite pretty against the silver background of the gag, helping it stand out more pronounced. Malik wished Jonas was aware enough to understand what was happening so he could see those lovely eyes overflow with tears and his thin eyebrows scrunch together in distress. Then again, he could get that expression on any other given day with minimal effort.

“Know what I think? I think you get just as excited being this close to me,” he purred, curling the hand that had been hovering over Jonas’s face against his neck. He could feel the slow pulse against his fingers, still faithfully drumming beneath the collar of bruises. So long as that beat didn’t stop, Malik was satisfied enough. “I’d reckon you even like when I touch you like this, no matter how much it hurts. ‘Cause you’re a touch-starved li’l thing, ain’t you?”

Jonas couldn’t confirm or deny the allegations which by default meant that Malik was correct with his assumptions. It wasn’t too hard to come to such a conclusion anyhow: richie rich kid with distant parents, no experience with familial or romantic love, he’d probably eat any gentle touch up no matter who it came from. Including from a serial killer in the basement of a funeral home. Malik could have the poor, neglected boy wrapped around his bloody finger in no time if he really wanted to. Only a handful of weeks into this captivity and he already knew how to make Jonas squirm and how to make Jonas melt. But it was the fight to survive that still distantly burned inside of him that kept him interesting enough to catch Malik’s attention. Total obedience and attachment sounded like too much of a hassle right now. 

Malik reached back up to Jonas’s face to tuck an errant curl behind his ear, not missing the way his eyes finally slipped closed from the gentle touch. “Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, lover. I won’t let you go.”

#whump #maj tag #whump community #whump stuff #whump ideas #whump scenario #whumpee #whumper #whump tropes #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpblr #maj writing #my writing #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #yandere #male yandere #blood #cutting #scars #going into shock #suicide mention

[0satellite0]

So i had this dream…and decided to sketch and write a fic about it lol

Danny was wearing this orange suit, Jack and Vlad were merged and Maddie was…chill? I didn’t draw it but Danielle was a baby lol.

Anyways the fic is pretty much the same as my dream, i didn’t change much.

————

When Dan had appeared upper-waist only through a portal and snatched Danny, he had been chilling with Sam and Tucker on his bed.

As soon as he glimpsed flaming white hair, Danny tugged at his core to transform. 'How did he escape the thermos?! Oh God, Dan probably wanted revenge and is going to lock me up, so he can kill my loved ones-“

With that thought, Danny couldn't help his shallow breathing and prickling eyes. Sam and Tucker's yells resounded as he was pulled through a portal, claws holding onto his stomach.

As soon as they were through the portal, Danny went intangible to get out of Dan's hold and flew away, back hitting a wall, eyes trained on Dan.

"Oh, dear...he's trembling, what did you do?!" Spoke a young, feminine voice. It sounded a bit like his mom, especially when scolding Fruitloop.

“Nothing, Mads!” Dan defended and- did Dan sound like he didn’t smoke 30 packs a day?

"???" Danny uttered, breathing audible.

"How in the butter biscuits did you make that sound?" Dan's eyes widened incredulously at him, brows furrowed.

'The Zone? When did Dan start saying 'butter biscuits'? Agh, Dan is other me and Vlad merged, whatever,'

"Listen, you're Invis-o-bill, right?" he woman spoke aga- yeah no thats his mom but also...not? Very Elequoent, Danny.

"I-", Danny took in a sharp breath, still eyeing Dan warily, "The press gave me that name. Phantom, actually,"

He hated how shaky he sounded. He defeated Dan, he can do it again. But...some things aren't adding up. He needed answers.

Dan looks different, and is wearing a tight shirt. The woman is real, he can hear her heartbeat. Yet, she precisely looks like his mom a few years ago.

"Sorry, Phantom. We need your help. Our daughter's gone missing," Not mom, replied with a soft tone.

"DAUGHTER?!" Danny shrieked, as his eyes widened, bouncing between Dan and Not mom. Oh God, is this the timeline you abandoned

(Not?) Dan shut his eyes as he rubbed his temple, "We're wasting time, Danielle is missing and I had to use the Fenton Location-Snatcher to grab you. We figured you could help us since I suck at my ghost powers,"

Yeah, no. That's not Dan. At least, not the one (thankfully) locked up in the thermos at Clockwork's tower. Dan spoke like Vlad i.e. like a rich bitch, and his eyes only conveyed the desire to see the world burn. This is an alternate dimension, then.

“Who are you?” Danny questioned albeit roughly.

“I’m Maddison Fenton,” Maddison cheerfully began, “And this…is…hm, we haven’t thought up of a name for you, huh?”

“I’m…Vlad? Jack? Vlack? Ugh, ignore the last one,” Jald, Danny decided.

Danny snorted, "Why not? Jald, Bald. If a strong breeze comes by, your hair would be put out, you would be bald, Jald,"

Maddison chortled behind her hand, Jald’s eyelid twitching in response.

“I’ll help you,” Danny floated closer to Maddison, “i’m not from this dimension, by the way,” he said offhandedly.

Getting closer was a mistake, as Maddison grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, “The Fenton Location-Snatcher can do that?!”

Danny leaned back, “Yeah, if it’s the same one as mine, which I destroyed for good reason,”

A lout boom! resounded, shaking the room. Jald and Maddie made eye contact as they let out a loud "DANIELLE!"

Danny grabbed them both, turning intangible to fly towards the sound.

When Nasty Burger came into view, Danny glanced briefly at Jald. He faltered slightly but shook his head and kept going.

Maddison gasped as she pointed at the ground, "There she is! She's gotten control of the condiments!"

Jald shook his head, "Thats why people were covered in red, yellow and that weird beige,"

Danny landed the three as they dodged flying splatters. As soon as they touched down, he brought up a weak ecto-shield over them.

"Neat," Jald commented with an unreadable expression.

"Danielle!" Maddison cried out in relief as a...baby? came into view?

Danny blinked in slight fear as his shield began to crack, how strong was this literal baby?!

"Shield's gonna break," Danny warned, "Can you get her to stop her battalion of condiments?"

“Danielle, look here!” Maddison cooed. It got baby Danielle to stop momentarily and search for her. Jald went intangible through the shield and snatched her.

“Surrogate ghost children will be fun, they lied. Give it a try, you won’t get attached and can give ‘em back, they lied,” Jald muttered in annoyance.

‘I should take pics, Elle would hate it when she sees them,’ Danny mused with a smirk.

He took down his shield, gazing around at the damage. Damn…if this is what baby Danielle did with condiments; what were his post-battles like?

Danny frowned as he caught his reflection in a broken window. Why is…his suit is black and orange like dad’s? His facial features are softer too…? What-?

———

Danny gasped as he sat upright in his bed. He threw the covers off and ran to his mirror, pulling at his core a bit too harshly as the rings washed over. He had to check…!

Danny sighed as his reflection stared back wearily.

Going invisible, he went intangible through the walls and reached his parents room.

He broke out another sigh of relief, just his mom and dad sleeping in their hazmat suits. There’s an OSHA violation or something with that…

Should he visit Clockwork and check the thermos? It was just a terrible nightmare but…

…Ugh, what did Jazz say about needing to check everything? That ‘He needs to be satisfied with partial confirmation, that is by proxy full confirmation’?

Whatever, he’ll just go back to sleep. He has school tomorrow.

Danny laid back, after de-transforming, gazing at the glow-in-the-dark stars. They’re accurate to the real constellations, thank you very much.

He slept soundly.

For a total of 10 seconds.

“Wake up, Space Cadet! It’s time for training at the academy! Wake up Space Cadet-“

————

I very much appreciate likes and will try my best to reply to comments, thank you for any reblogs as well! Ask box open to all ^_^

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dan phantom #kinda? #not really #maddie fenton #jack fenton #vlad masters #danielle fenton #why are jack and vlad merged? idk #english is my second language #my very bad writing #dp #dp art #sketch #someday i might write the og Fenton Location-Snatcher incident lol #more posts soon

[constellaj]

16

Please talk more about your reboot!

16: If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

okay so how i would re-do CANON is completely different from how i would talk abt a reboot so im gonna touch on a couple things in both contexts! the reason for the difference is canon rewrites imply i can go back in time and introduce dp fresh and new, before anyone knows what it is; but for a reboot, id be working with an audience that has a better understanding of the source material, so i dont need to spend as much time explaining, but i also need to keep everything recognizable

Valerie

REWRITE: i would def make it more danny's fault that her dad lost his job, like danny was intentionally being reckless and shattered some security stuff, and he has a whole mini lesson about learning to not just run in guns blazing. i would probably remove the dating stuff with her and danny (and tuckers crush) too, I think them wanting to be good friends is good enough for freshman year

REBOOT: the fandom already knows valerie exists, so i would actually skip the whole shades-of-gray introductory episode and have her be present as the huntress from day 1-- probably even before danny got his powers. cujo is also HER dog, and her backstory-- we'd find out in like, season 1, that a natural ghost portal (maybe one wulf opened) ripped open on her dog and killed him, and since then shes had a vendetta against ghosts cause of how reckless they are and their disregard for life-- of course, cujo isnt actually dead. cujo is a halfa. a puby halfa. anyway instead of a hoverboard she actually rides cujo around cause he can fly and its big and epic. valerie has BEEN amity parks ghost-eradicating superhero for at least a year (tho shes been in the shadows abt it) and her hatred towards danny actually just becomes really petty, like them flying next to each other chasing skulker just going "I got this. no I got this. no I got this" and they just get in each others' way and its a mutual grudge.

BOTH: i am NOT keeping in vlad giving her the suit to watch danny under any circumstances. it was only utilized half assedly in canon (when vlad couldve just had an invisible duplicate watching him instead) anyway, and I dont have any reason to keep it in a reboot either. instead i want her tech to be a combination of half-stolen and half-gerryrigged stuff and she slowly slowly learns how to build her own.

I also dont want anyone knowing her secret identity, except maybe her dad, and sam or tucker. i think it works better if danny isnt privy to this magic info

Freakshow

REWRITE: i would honestly just remove him. the episodes hes in arent particularly interesting, theyre just generic "we need a plot about x" filler and he's not compelling enough a character (at least in writing) to carry a better plot that another antagonist couldnt. i'm serious

REBOOT: unfortunately in a reboot he's gonna have to pop up somewhere or else ppl will be like "where IS HE" so I'm going to stick with running some kind of ghost circus, maybe a few occult things, but cut out a lot of the spooky magical knowledge and mcguffin stuff. maybe i could make him like, someone from vlad/jack/maddies college who always felt pushed around by them and so he has a vendetta? and theyd be the only reason he even learned abt ghosts in the first place. idk in either way I want to force him into being irredeemable but also include LYDIA (the tattoo girl ghost) way more-- I want to give her an arc that ends in her tossing freakshow aside and running off to be a ghost vigilante.

BOTH: dear god the infinity gauntlet is stupid that needs to GO AWAY. especially for the reboot cause it would exist in a post-mcu world and way too many people would complain about it

Vlad

REWRITE: amp him up to a far more sinister and villainous character. the crushing on maddie isnt enough, I want to show him on-screen performing experiments on ghosts and himself, dismissing everyone else cause he thinks hes smarter than them. i want him to be actively sabotaging the fentons at every turn. i would also clarify that he doesnt actually want danny as a son, but as a trophy-- a line where danny says something along the lines of "you don't want a son. you want a slave". i want to make him a character who wants to destroy the entire planet and put it in the ghost zone so he can be the true ghost king and i want to make this all evident from day one. if i'm writing a series villain you can bet i'm going to write a GOOD one. less petty drama here and more actual stakes.

REBOOT: it seems silly but sense with reboot we have the benefit of hindsight and recognizing that vlad wasn't a big series villain, theres no way i'd actually go back and write him to be such. for starters, of course, theres the fact that anything he does would really be an exaggerated part of the original, and it would bore an audience to see the same story again-- theres also the fact that it doesnt seem right to take a character who was treated as a joke half the time and suddenly make them big and important. no, instead for my reboot i want to lean into the petty gay uncle vibe. he had a crush on jack and now just casually insults him. he moves mansions every now and again by just haunting the family who lives in the one he wants, and taking over-- i mean, who is gonna believe that an actual ghost haunted you. he dislikes danny not because he has some concept of 'evil' and 'good' but bc danny is just too damn active. of course he actually does care about danny and his safety deep down, it's just on the surface they have very conflicting motivations-- not to mention that danny has been raised on legends from his parents of the villainous Wisconsin Ghost, who has to be stopped at all costs.

BOTH: i want jack and maddie to KNOW he's a half ghost and to actively be hunting him down for it, maybe bc they think hes possessed, or been a ghost tricking them this whole time, or the victim of a tragic lab accident who needs to be put to rest, etc. whatever the case it will give vlad actual tangible reason to despise them and genuinely suspect they dont have dannys best interests at heart. i think it would be neat if vlad was cynical and every time danny hit him with the "I'll expose us both. at least theyll still love ME" vlad could be like in the back of his head "oh god theyre going to kill this child"

Dani

REWRITE: cut her out. we don't need her character at all. maybe replace her with a more ominous shadow duplicate / clone that actually looks like danny himself and doesnt really have a name? you could probably combine her and dark dans characters for their arcs

REBOOT: instead of a clone from vlad, she's a guys in white creation using some of dannys dna after he was captured (and vlad broke him out bc he was like "ugh i guess i have to save this child")

BOTH: vlad actually cares abt her (duh), shes nonbinary (double duh), she gets the funny dissolve into goo powers

i had more i thought i was gonna write but this post is already very long and also im running out of coherency for this LUL

#ask #danny phantom #long post #adpRewrite

[fungalnebula]

Prologue

Chapter One (will be linked when published)

Please leave critiques and suggestions in replies and/or reblogs!!! Click the cover image for a surprise!

There was a large tube inside the basement of the Fenton building. It was closed off by a large, military grade door, securing the emptiness of the tube. This machine had been sitting in the basement of the Fenton building, unused, since its conception two long years ago.

“Danny, why didn’t you tell us about this?” One of Danny’s best friends, Sam, asked as Danny punched in a code to release the contents of the empty tube. “This is so cool!”

Sam loved the Ghost Aesthetic. Danny felt a little bad for not telling her about the broken portal because of that.

“It didn’t work so I thought you guys wouldn’t care,” Danny said. “It was broken anyway…”

“Dude, it’s still a ghost portal!” Danny’s other best friend, Tucker, exclaimed. “Even if it doesn’t work, all the bones are still there.”

“I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know it would be that interesting.”

“Are you insane!?” Sam exclaimed, “this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen. Let me take a picture of you!”

“No way, Samantha.” Danny groused, “there is no way I’m getting in that thing. What if the reason it didn’t work is because of loose wires or something? I don’t want to die.”

“You won’t die and you know I hate it when you call me Samantha,” she chastised. “You said it’s been broken for years! There’s no way it’ll work if it hasn’t already. It’s like a dead bear, it can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Danny laughed at her analogy. “You can still fall on a dead bear and get maimed by its teeth AND SLASH OR claws, Samantha.” Danny mocked Sam, waving his hands with each syllable of her name.

“Yeah, bad metaphor, just get in there. You won’t get electrocuted or anything. Your parents probably disconnected it from the power when they gave up on it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Danny finally conceded, “let me at least wear one of the suits my parents made for me. You know, just in case.”

“Is it insulated?” Tucker chuckled.

“Yes, Tucker,” Danny retorted. “It is insulated, as a matter of fact.”

Danny walked to a cabinet labeled “Ecto Suits” and pulled out a white jumpsuit with a black collar. He adorned it as well as some black gloves and black boots. He noticed Tucker smirk as Sam attempted to suppress a snort. Danny stuck his tongue out at his two best friends in the world. He’d do anything for those jokers. Danny zipped up his new outfit and took a hesitant step towards the defunct portal.

“You guys really want to do this?” Danny had to force this last word out of his throat. He had been assured that he was safe, but was he really?

“Yeah,” Sam was gentle now. “You’ll be fine. All I want is a little picture of you in that neat thingy.”

Tucker put his hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry man, it’s unplugged.” Tucker pointed to a plug on the ground nearby, assuming it was the power source for the portal.

“That makes me feel a bit better.” Danny sighed, relieved. He took another few steps and was in front of the portal. It was eerie and echoey. “Oooo” Danny made a noise and heard it bounce off the metal walls inside.

“Go on,” Sam pushed Danny lightly.

“Hey! Okay, I’m going!” Danny took a step inside the portal. It felt … empty and big. Much bigger than it was. Longer too. The tube felt more like a tunnel at this point, Danny could see the end of the tunnel, but it felt like it was miles away. Danny felt heavy just taking one step inside. He took another and felt his body weigh him down even more. It was just the anxiety, Danny thought to himself. Your body gets heavy when it’s dreading something, right? But there was nothing to worry about, Danny assured himself.

Danny took a few more steps inside the portal and turned around to face the outside. He tasted ozone and he felt like his blood was made of lead. There was the quietest of ringings bouncing around in his head making him somewhat dizzy and his eyes felt like they were vibrating.

“Danny?” Sam asked.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Sam looked concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s a bit spooky in here, though,” Danny let out a slight chuckle. “I’ll just suck it up for the picture.”

“Yeah, alright…” Sam trailed off. “Can you do a cool pose? Maybe put your hand against the side and lean or something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Danny began to place his hand on the side of the portal. As his hand neared the wall, the taste of ozone intensified and his nose started running. His hand was almost to the wall when Sam snapped a picture with her polaroid camera.

“Oops,” she looked nervous as she took out the not-yet-developed picture and handed it to Tucker.

Danny knew she wanted a better shot so he finally put his hand on the wall. Millimeters before his hand made contact, Danny’s fingers felt like cold metal replaced all of his bones. He let his hand rest on the wall to his left as he felt a button depress. Immediately, his heart started racing as he felt panic run up his chest. Daniel Fenton suddenly felt the most excruciating pain he had ever and will ever feel in his life. He felt hundreds of knives stab him at once in every single nerve in his body. An army of knives marched through his nervous system, stabbing down hard with every step. This march of pain within his body moved incredibly fast but at the same time that it moved agonizingly slow.

Danny didn’t feel his throat open up to release a blood curdling scream of pure, horrific pain. He didn’t feel himself drop to his knees, but he did feel that militia of marching, stabbing pain start again at his knees. All he saw was green, neon green, everywhere. He tasted blood and ozone, the lower half of his face, beneath his nose, was wet and sticky. His lips felt like they were drenched in lip gloss that tightened at every breath he took. His left wrist felt like he had laid on it for hours and suddenly moved. Danny knew he was dying.

When his face smacked the metal floor of the now functioning portal, he didn’t feel his nose break, just the pain get more intense and the struggle to breathe increased with his mouth submerged in a shallow pool of blood escaping his nose like a dam had been opened. Danny didn’t feel himself being dragged by his friends out of the portal and he didn’t see the horrified looks on their faces when they saw all the blood and smoke coming from his body. He didn’t feel Tucker grab a broom and poke him with it, he didn’t hear Sam smack Tucker and throw the broom to the wall. Danny didn’t hear his sister pound down the stair and scream at the sight, he didn’t hear Sam wailing and sobbing and pleading with Danny to please wake up, he didn’t hear her whisper, “I’m so sorry Danny, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, why am I so stupid,” to his head. He didn’t hear his sister, Jazz screaming through her tears at Tucker, “What happened to him? Why is his hair white? Where did all this blood come from?” He didn’t hear Tucker crying, “I’m sorry, I thought it was unplugged, I’m so sorry Jazz, I’m so sorry.”

Danny did hear a ringing, though. He heard waves too. Or was that wind? Danny heard someone whisper but they were so far away.

Then, Danny saw black. Danny saw black and a very dark red. “What did you say?” Danny tried to say, but it was so much less than a whisper. Danny heard a thump, like someone dropping down to sit on a tile floor and the red he saw got brighter.

God, his eyes were so heavy. His lips felt like he had just eaten Elmer’s glue, like he used to do in Kindergarten. When Danny smiled a slight smile, as much as he had the strength to, his lips cracked and he relaxed his face to appease the pain.

Daniel Fenton cracked his eyes. Slowly, sound came back. A ringing gave way to someone screaming, “How could you let this happen? I thought you cared about him.” Someone else bawled, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want this to happen. Please, I’m so sorry, I love him so much.”

Danny was confused. Did he just walk in on someone's death? He couldn’t have, his back was cold and against the tile floor in… his basement? Who died in his basement?

“Oh, god.” Danny felt his stomach drop to his toes. “Did Tuck get hurt by some of Mom or Dad’s ghost shit?”

The room went silent. Danny pulled his eyes open, worried by what he might see.

“What the fuck was that Samantha,” Jazz had murder in her eyes. “Tell me what that was right now.”

“What was what?” Danny asked. He saw Jazz huddled over something in the middle of the room with Sam and Tucker near her. The body wasn’t Tucker’s.

Danny walked over to Jazz and his friends when Tucker looked his way and screamed as loud and as hard as he was capable of screaming. This spooked Danny who took a step to the side and looked at what was on the ground.

It was him.

Danny was looking at his own body on the floor. His now white hair was singed, his left arm was black, contrasting against his pale skin which had been exposed by a large rip in his not-so-insulated suit. It looked like the hand and half of the arm on the left side of the suit had burned off.

Suddenly the body moved and Danny saw the ceiling and his Sister looking over him. He turned his head and saw two scenes. He was looking at Sam while also looking at the now functional ghost portal with a different set of eyes. Danny moved his head back and was now only looking at his sister again.

Danny attempted to move to a sitting position, coughing droplets of blood when he tensed his muscles.

“Oh, my god.” Jazz breathed a sigh of relief, “Danny! Don’t sit up, here. I’ll help you.”

Jazz sort of dragged, sort of pushed Danny’s body closer to the wall, glaring at Tucker and Sam when they moved to help her. Jazz picked up Danny’s head and sat him against the wall of the Fenton Laboratory basement and inspected his face.

“God, Danny.” Jazz’s voice was soaked with concern. “There’s blood all over this place. Your nose is broken.”

Danny realized he couldn’t feel the ground beneath him the second he felt himself fall an inch and hit the ground. He saw a flash as he noticed a ring of light circling around his waist.

“Sam,” Jazz screamed, “what the fuck? My brother almost dies and you think this is the best fucking photo op to snag?”

“I’m sorry Jazz, I-I,” Sam stuttered, “I saw something.”

Jazz turned her head back to her brother, and gasped. “Danny! Your hair is back to normal!”

Barely audible, Danny mumbled; “myhairwasn’tnormal?”

“It was white,” Sam whisperspoke.

“And your suit went all reverse,” Tucker added at full volume from halfway across the room.

“I taste metal,” Danny stuck his tongue out, it looked like he had just been licking blood off of something.

“Probably from all that blood in your mouth.” Jazz’s forehead was the rocky mountains of concern. “And on your chin, down your shirt, all over the floor. God, Danny. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“No!” Danny and Tucker yelled at the same time.

“I’m fine, I feel fine, watch this!” Danny stood up and quickly fell back down demonstrating how not fine he was.

“Sorry, I just hate hospitals,” Tucker murmured. “I didn’t mean to say that…”

Sam waved a polaroid in the air, then gave it to Jazz.

The picture showed a bloodied Danny on the ground wearing a reverse colored “insulated” suit. It’s just a fucking picture of my almost-dead brother, Jazz thought. Then she saw it. There were two rings of light around his waist that looked like they were revealing the outfit Danny was wearing when he went downstairs. A NASA T-Shirt and blue jeans were peaking through the two circles of light. Jazz looked at Danny again and realized he wasn’t wearing the black version of his ecto suit anymore. It went away with the white of his hair.

“Danny, you’re still going to the hospital with me.” Jazz insisted. “Your nose is broken.”

Danny touched his nose and was immediately met with searing, red hot pain.

“Don’t touch it, idiot!” Jazz smacked Danny’s hand away from his nose. “When a part of your body is broken, that’s not an invitation to touch it!”

Danny looked at Sam and Tucker, scared.

Sam smiled at Danny. “We can talk about it after you go to the hospital. Do you want to have a fucked up nose for the rest of your life?”

Tucker walked closer to Danny and put his hand on Danny’s head. “I’m so fucking happy you’re okay, dude.”

“Can you walk?” Jazz asked as she stood up and reached for Danny’s hand.

Danny grabbed her hand and tried to get up for the second time. He watched his hand disappear from his sister's hand as her grip tightened around nothing. Danny fell back to the floor and screamed at his missing hand before it came back.

“Danny,” Jazz hissed, “we are going to the hospital now.”

Danny stood up on his own and followed his sister up the stairs to her car, parked outside. They drove to the hospital.

#losers lament #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Jazz Fenton #Same Manson #Tucker Foley #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #help i worked so hard on this

[steve0discusses]

The Full Metal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 8: Watch This Episode Covered in Butts be the Only One Not Flagged by Tumblr

Gonna be risky business and not only upload all of these caps the way I screenshot them--which has just SO MANY poorly CGI’d butts but also gonna do it on the Tumblr Drafts folder, which I have been assured works now.

I’m so worried about so many things, but considering all the fears I have about like...everything else in the world right now...I guess I’ll take a risk on tumblr.

Edit: I cannot believe that I had 8ish episodes of Kaiba’s tall dueling tower get flagged but not this movie. I just....wow I cannot.

So anyway, last we left off, General Hakuro stepped in and was like “Hi guys, you like my wily plans that no one in their right mind would have ever guessed???”

Yo remember this part of the anime? Where the bodies drop from the ceiling and it’s a hunk out of the final arc--it’s here. In this movie. This movie that can’t possibly afford to do that. Lets get some CGI animated bodies in here ASAP.

(see some texture regrets under the cut)

It’s like a Monet, as the Mean Girls say, because far away and shrinked to 500 pixels this looks kinda neat. They sort of look more like those slime ball that grow in the back of your throat rather than human bodies, but they still look pretty gross hanging up there.

But then.....we zoom in. Remember again that this was full screen on my computer, and at one point was on a freakin movie screen. This level of 3d...was on a movie theater screen.

The mind boggles. The mind boggles!

Like as you know, I am an artist, and I’ve dabbled in...basically everything in my pursuit to make a dollar...and I have taken about 2 years of classes in 3D art with Maya and all those. I’m not thaaat great at it--I’m much more an illustrator/painter--but I feel like I have that reference point. Can I just say--the model is...fine...you can do a lot with layers of bump maps so you don’t need a truly detailed model (not like they did that, because they didn’t do that, but I can figure that maybe they had an intention to do that and forgot?)

But, there’s no connection of the wires to bodies. They just kinda float? The bodies are also all the same shiny-ness? To the point that it looks like a copy paste? (I don’t think it is, the wires are slightly different on a few of them) There’s just not much in the way of a texture map or a bump map. It just...there’s also something missing from the skin.

Skin is actually kind of rough to render, so when I did it back in the day, I followed like a checklist to make sure I had all the layers and steps to make someone look...clammy. Some things are kinda translucent, they reflect light a different way...especially white skin like this wouldn’t be just...white like putty. Dunno if you ever saw a white person, but we got so many veins...there was so much potential to make something really gross and fleshy.

Instead we got silly putty. It’s fine. I’m fine.

So General Hakuro decides to just...kill everyone right now.

This makes no sense to me.

That means that the whole thing of Lust killing Hughes was completely unrelated to General Hakuro. All Hakuro needed was Shou Tucker, who has been in prison for...I assume months since Ed shipped him off. And Shou was only released today? Just now? Just now when Hughes was shot?

So this all just happened at the same time by accident?

I mean the General sent us to the wrong lab initially, so he didn’t actually want us to be here, and now that we are here, he’s going to set off an entire army as a reaction to three people walking in and going “oops”?

So, lets get a look at our army.

Oh it was so disappointing, this reveal. Not just the eyeball that has a bounce light coming from below the top lip there (how did that even happen???) but also when it opened it’s mouth, it had a flat animation of skin breaking--it wasn’t actually rendered 3d skin, it was like a jpg wrapped around it or something (or at least that was the illusion I got. That is fine for a video game or a TV show, but this is a movie. This is shot so that it can be displayed in a size bigger than your own house.

What happened to the animation team on this one? Not saying I can do better, cuz no, I can’t, that 3d chapter in my life was a while back, but I’m just one guy. This was an entire animation studio and they just...didn’t render 3d face ripping (which is their entire job, to work in 3d) and then they kinda just turned on the stock physics dynamics and dropped em instead of animating them.

The way they fell was like fish from a bucket--the same amount of speed, too. they all ragdolled like a 3D shooter, their rigs just hanging on for dear life (and yes, you could see the deforming happen on the joints of these models.) I’m fine with having a computer program render something out with a physics engine...but there is a balance.

You do have to still go in there and finangle it back because...real life is hella stupid. Real physics? So stupid. It was hilarious how nonthreatening it was, too because they’re like...the size of shrimps in that zoom out image. The scale is just so wild!

It was like one bored guy in a sound booth and they multiplied his voice three times. Golden. Absolutely golden.

So these guys stride over, all of them with the same amount of speed (leading me to think it was probably a recorded walk cycle they all share with slight alterations between all of em) and they kinda just...pile on eachother in a weird way.

I will give them this: I was happy to see something that wasn’t physics or procedural. They mo-capped and animated that part for sure. It had the touch of an artist’s hand. It was also a very funny way for Hakuro to die because this guy was on screen for like 5 minutes, and maybe 7 minutes of this whole movie.

Youknow...I think it really says a lot about your nude 3d models if they’re not disturbingly human enough to trigger the tumblr filter, youknow?

Anyway, Envy looks on.

And then Gluttony saves the city.

Meanwhile, they decide to bust out the fire effects and Mustang becomes the most useful person in this entire movie. Like honestly this movie was poorly named, because it should have just been “Mustang saves the FullMetal Alchemist’s Entire Ass.”

The next part seems like I forgot a cap, or maybe missed something. I swear to you, I did not.

First off, Al becomes fullmetal and makes this happen without an alchemy circle. The show doesn’t really care to talk about that though, it’s just a thing he can do now, and you’d only notice it if you were writing a Tumblr post about it.

I swear to you, Winry is just inside of Al and there is no explanation.

There is no explanation for this.

She was on the couch...why is she not on the couch? What?

And then when you think they might have a moment, Ed’s like.

Damn.

For reals what the hell was that entire scene except for a way for Ed to get his arm stitched back on in like 2 minutes?

Outside, Envy and Lust are just strolling around the back-alley of this red brick building we have seen used for this entire movie.

And like...it’s so funny to me because they weren’t trying to run or hide. It makes complete sense why they got shot. This is what happens when you just...walk away when the whole military guard wants to kill you.

Now lets go see how Hawkeye is faring.

Luckily, all of the ambling bodies have decided to walk slowly through this one weird grass section between extremely long buildings.

And Hawkeye tells everyone “You have to shoot their heads off” and I want you to look at that scene and tell me how many of those bodies still have heads.

Oh, all of them. Don’t worry about it.

Kinda hard to see, but Ed shows up to give Mustang a hand, which was fully unnecessary but we’ll get to that in a bit.

This movie is such a gem.

Ed goes big brain and realizes that Envy is still burned up, and thus is about to pass on.

And whatever, I’ll take it. It’s not like the movie has told us that they are made out of 1000000 lives, for all we know, in the movie universe, they really are only 4 lives. Like half a cat. Maybe Father only killed half a cat instead of an entire city.

Yugi Muto would be so freakin proud of Envy for how often this guy gets hit square in the chest with fire balls. It’s basically every scene where Envy and Mustang share screen time.

And don’t worry, I don’t think Envy died? But they sure made it look like he did, which I’m sure everyone everywhere was really happy to see, since Envy’s death was one of the climaxes of the whole series. Like people used to make these lists of “top 10 saddest anime deaths” and how many people had Envy on there? Like everyone? People freakin love Envy and they did him so much dirty in this movie.

Again I have no explanation for Winry.

So Mustang is like, Ed, you make sure Winry doesn’t biff it in that corner, and I’ll do my actual job over here on this side. And yo, he did.

And so then that’s it, Lust is dead, and now we have a Sorcerer’s stone.

Man it looks delicious, right?

I’d eat the hell out of that.

Anyway, we only have one more update and we’re done with this movie!

I know!

I know! They only have 10-15 minutes to resolve pretty much everything, and that’s assuming that the credits don’t take up a heap of that. Hell, I might only have 3 caps next episode if that’s all credits. I honestly don’t remember.

Anyway, hope y’all take it easy this February, here is a link for people who just got here to read these FMA recaps in Chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

#FMA #Fullmetal Alchemist #Fullmetal Alchemist Movie #recap #photo recap #ed elric #colonel mustang #hawkeye #al elric #Winry Rockbell #so much fire #so much almost there CG

[writingamongtheroses-archive]

Dorado Cousins

(That are written so far. Inspired by @rachywritessomething‘s question. Warning, mentions of death and blood, it’s long and there’s Spanish. I suggest SpanishDict.)

Liza forced herself to go home to shower- the hot office and fear for her life had produced sweat- and change before she went to tío Rafael's house.

The three-story house was where Liza had spent her childhood since she was ten. Her parents had disappeared after the same accident that left scars on her head and somehow, she ended up living with tío Rafael. She wasn't sure why- he was her great uncle, and she had Aunt Camilla-Rose and Uncle Jorge. But that did spare her from Candela.

Liza marched up to the door to give it a solid knock. There was a moment before the door opened, revealing Lynn. She had been a foster child when Liza moved in, although she had moved out years ago to become a cop. "Oh boy," Lynn said when she saw her. "You should probably wait, Abuelita-"

"¡Lynn! ¡Vuelve, querida, para que sepas dónde está la fiesta!"

Lynn turned to yell back. "Un minuto!" Liza had paled at the voice from inside by the time she turned back, rolling her eyes. "Sorry, Abuelita's here, raving about Candela's engagement party."

Liza winced. "Oh! Um..." She rolled her sleeve back to consult the notes written on her arms. "Who is she..."

Lynn took pity. "This guy named Tom. Don't tell her or Abuelita, but I don't think he was planning for it to go this far."

"Lynn!"

"Un minuto, Abuelita!"

There were scoff and some footsteps, approaching the door. Lynn gestured for her to run. "¡Un momento, dice..." Liza turned to sprint but froze at the old woman's voice. "¡Ah! Elizabeth, preciosa, ¡estás aquí!"

She turned, fixing a fake grin on her face at the sight of the old woman. "Abuelita!" The old woman pulled her into a hug. "¡Me alegro de verte! Otra vez."

"¡También me alegro de verte, nieta!" Abuelita pushed Liza away to smile even harder. That smile warned that talk about Candela, Abuelita's favorite, was incoming. Lynn and Liza shared winces. "¡¿Escuchaste las noticias?! Tom finalmente le ha propuesto a Candela!" She opened her mouth to reply, but her great-grandmother was already dragging her inside. They passed three more foster kids- Tucker, Huang Fu, and Anne- playing in the living room as they entered the kitchen. "Rafael, Candela y Tom, Marisol, mira quién vino de visita!"

Tío Rafael was sitting with Liza's cousin and her twin, as well as a blonde guy who must've been Tom, at the kitchen table. Rafael aimed a warm smile at his great-niece. "Hola, Liza."

"Hola, Tío Rafael." Liza turned her fake grin to Candela, who was gripping and nuzzling Tom's arm like there was no tomorrow. (He looked a bit lost.) "Congratulations, Candela," she said in English, for the benefit of Tom, as she pulled up her sleeve. "I'm so happy for you."

"Heh, it's no big deal," Candela said with a sweep of a hand, showing off the huge diamond on there. "I just knew Tom was the one." Liza shared an eye roll with Marisol and Lynn. "Anyway, the party's next weekend at 5. You can remember that, right?"

Everything went silent. Liza could feel everyone's eyes on them. She managed to regain her smile, nodding. "Of course! Now, as much as I enjoy your...company, I'm actually here to-"

"Oh my gosh! You have to hear how he proposed!"

Liza felt the urge to bang her head against something.

-_-

A large cardboard box, Liza and Ted Bear's Pizza written in neat cursive on the side, sat there. She grabbed it and clambered back down. From what she knew, most of her childhood had been spent at the place before her accident. Maybe the videos would explain why Ted looked surprised at her name, or even give some sort of hint of what the Puppet expected from her exactly.

Liza pushed the ladder back up to the ceiling and turned, prepared to start watching some cringe- "Liza?"

"Marisol?" She said, explanations welling up for the ghost gripping her shoulder and watching her cousin. "Why are you here?"

"I left my purse here." her cousin said, seeming to not even notice Doll. Did she not see her? "Why are you here?" Liza held up the box as an explanation. "Oh, yeah. You work there now, don't you..."

Liza nodded. "Yeah. Kinda got curious and decided to see if I could jolt anything."

"I'll watch with you!"

So that was how Liza found herself loading the first tape she found in while Marisol was popping popcorn.

-_-

"Huh...that was cute," Marisol said to break the silence. "What did you think Liza?" There was nothing. "Liza?"

Liza was hiding her face.

"Still weak to compliments, I see."

-_-

"Yes. They don't want anyone to know."

"Then how are you telling me?"

There was silence. Bun stared at Liza, her eyes slowly darkening. Remembering what happened when that had happened with Ted, she took a step back.

"I'm sorry, prima." She stiffened. The voice was Bun's, but it also sounded so small. "Lo siento. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm tired." A funny little noise escaped. It took her a moment to realize it was a wail. "I'm tired of being angry. I'm sick of this!" The last sentence came out with so much anger, it broke her heart. "But..." Hands rested on her shoulders. "We might be sick of it, but she's not."

"I'm guessing she is the one in Ted." The possessed Bun nodded. "Wait! There are five of the ghosts, but there's only four animatronics. Where's the..." She stopped as a cold realization crawled up her spine. "...fifth one." She turned to stare at Doll.

Like how dew would evaporate on a warm summer morning, Doll's features shifted. Liza felt her stomach attempt to riot as she took her in. Instead of unbroken skin and neat hair, her head looked crushed. Green eyes were almost falling out. The blood that leaked from her skull stained everything. Doll couldn't attach to her suit for some reason, which meant she had been left to wander the restaurant.

Until a sunny day in 2005.

Another push broke her out of her thoughts. "Look, it doesn't matter who is possessing who, you need to go!"

-_-

“You did it!”

Liza came slowly. When she opened her eyes, she was in an odd-colored void and felt weightless. “Okay,” she griped. “This is getting old.” Honestly, at this point, she had a right to complain.

“You did it!” This time, something wrapped around her. Liza glanced down to see the little ghost form of Manny.

“Oh, hey.” she said before pausing. “You can talk?”

He smiled. “Hi, prima.”

A gentle smile formed as she reached up to stroke her dead cousin’s cheek. “Hey, primo.” Despite being in the void, her voice was creaky with tears she was swallowing back. Now that she knew who he was, she could recognize his resemblance to Uncle Vincent and the pictures of long dead Aunt Candela.

“...Puppet’s really proud of you,” he said, snuggling into her touch. “He’s resting right now, he’s always tired after helping Goldie.”

“Goldie?” Looking around, Liza now recognized the void’s color.

It was gold.

“Yeah! Um...I used to be really scared of him.” Liza adjusted herself into a criss-cross position, cradling Manny in her lap. He adjusted to the new position easily. “But he’s sorry for hurting me. He even helped Doll fix you when Rebecca used Ted to hurt you!” Huh- that put the whole brain bleed theory about her eyes in a new light. She couldn’t help the touch to her forehead and the bared scars.

“He...uh, he did? Why?”

“Well…’cause we’re family. And family helps each other. Right?” Manny stared at her with eager eyes.

“Yeah.” Liza said after a moment. “Although someone should tell Abuelita that.”

“Daddy used to say someone should tell Abuelita a lot of things.”

She chuckled. “Yeah. Goldie...he called me a Suit.”

“Oh! Puppet’s my Suit, but we can’t switch out like you or Doll or Goldie can. And I’m sorry.” Manny said, eyes filling with tears. “It wasn’t- it shouldn’t have been like that. After...what happened to me and Doll, he got put away and now he doesn’t work. He was supposed to share power, not possess you, but he didn’t have a lot of options.”

Liza wiped away the tears that began to roll down his cheeks. “Hey, hey, don’t worry! I’m not mad, just a bit confused. That’s all.”

“So you’ll stay?!”

“Wha- Yes! Of course I’ll stay.”

He grinned brightly, tears beginning to dry. “Yay! She’ll stay! She’ll stay!” He began to bounce around the void, cheering. Liza chuckled as she watched him. Is this how their relationship would’ve been if he had lived? He soon returned to tackle her into another hug. “Gracias!”

“De nada.” she said. His sweet eagerness was honestly adorable. A sudden thought occurred to her. “Calworth! He didn’t kill Calworth, did he?!”

“No.” Manny shrugged. “You asked him not to, so he didn’t. Everyone is really close to their suits, he’ll listen to you. Puppet listens to me.”

Relief flooded through her. Calworth would receive the proper punishment. Killing was horrible. Nobody deserved to die, even if they were sick and twisted like the Threat. Liza shook her head at the thought that wasn’t hers, rubbing her head. “Puppet loves you a lot, you know.”

His smile turned shy. “Yeah, I know. It loves you too. It...loved Elijah too. That’s why it tried to give him Goldie’s power. But…” His smile was replaced by a sad frown. “Goldie...was too much.”

Oh.

That was how...

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Elijah wanted it anyway, to make sure nothing like us happened again.” He suddenly sounded very old, reminding Liza that although it looked like he was younger and she was older, it was nothing like that. He was the older while she was the younger. “Goldie’s great to have around! He can protect us from Threats. But...he needs you.”

“I...thank you. For trusting me with this.”

Manny smiled. 

“I know you can do it.”

The void started to darken around them. Manny, however, glowed brighter.

The last thing Liza saw was the bright glow.

It was gold.

#heartbeat #heartbeat series #wip #writblr #writeblr #writeblr community #writblr community

[ducktracy]

149. the village smithy (1936)

release date: december 5th, 1936

series: looney tunes

director: tex avery

starring: earle hodgins (narrator), tex avery (blacksmith), joe dougherty (porky)

a few reviews ago, i said that porky in the north woods was the first cartoon to debut the “porky signature” opening. turns out i was wrong, it’s actually THIS one! (a small error, though, considering porky in the north woods is the cartoon right after this one. still, my mistake!) one of my favorite tex avery cartoons at warner bros, chock full of disney rebellion and fourth wall breaks. a witty retelling of the longsfellow poem that pins porky as a clumsy smithy, which results in trouble.

earle hodgins does a wonderful job as the narrator. we open to him literally setting up the scene—after he says “under the spreading chestnut tree”, a chestnut tree falls to the ground, the “standing” village smithy not behind, lazing on the grass and most certainly NOT standing. the narrator sighs. “i said STAND. stand up, you lug!” the smithy does so, his back to the audience. “hey, this way!” he whips around to ogle at the audience before swaying bashfully. while lauding the smithy’s physique, comedy’s greatest friend, juxtaposition, strikes hard. instead of seeing the smithy’s brawny arms, we’re met with twigs, hilariously accompanied by his overly large, sinewy hands. recognizing the folly, the smithy takes a moment to inflate his muscles by blowing into his respective thumbs.

“and now, the blacksmith shop.” the smithy throws up his dukes and boxes at an unseen foe as the shack falls into place right behind him. contented with his new shop, the smithy goes inside to investigate, while the local schoolchildren come to observe the smithy at work. “they love to see the flaming forge and hear the bellows roar.” a wonderful closeup as the bellows lets out a ferocious lion’s roar, the narrator remarking “boy, what a roar!”

one of my favorite gags in the entire cartoon is when the children are observing the smithy. the narrator suddenly grows hotheaded, shooing them out. “alright kids, get out of the scene now! you bother me.” even better is the reaction from the kids, all grumbling and trudging away, one even kicking a van across the screen in defiance. hodgins’ voice combined with tex’s timing make for a wonderful end product of comedy.

with the smithy now alone, he pumps the bellows up and down and up and down and up and down up and down up and down up and down—the narrator repeats “up and down” at a furious pace, the smithy struggling to keep up, pumping frantically with his giant tongue hanging out of his mouth in exhaustion. another wonderful gag that is succinctly timed. even better is the dialogue spawned from the gag: fed up with his mistreatment, the smithy tosses away the bellows and directly addresses the narrator. “listen, chief! take it easy. we got plenty of time, this cartoon ain't half over yet!” tex avery provides the voice of the smithy (though i’ve also heard theories that this is tedd pierce, which i wouldn’t totally rule out either. i’m pretty sure it’s tex, though.) i believe this is virgil ross animation.

so, with that reassurance that we have plenty of time, the narrator introduces our hero, porky pig. great juxtaposition with the triumphant fanfare and then the pan over to reveal tiny, portly porky shaking his fists in the glory. the narrator takes a moment to recollect himself. “let’s see, we have the blacksmith—“ the smithy sticks his tongue out at the narrator “—the blacksmith shop... now, boys, we need a horse.”

bob clampett animates the scene of the smithy and porky looking for the horse, porky hilariously lifting up a magazine and a barrel on the ground, as if a giant horse would be hiding under such menial and small objects. the fated horseshoe clops grow louder, and a camel struts into view. “oh, my mistake. this little fellow belongs in our foreign feature picture.” a cane drags the camel offscreen, and the void is soon replaced by a white horse, thrown onto the scene.

the smithy pulls the horse out of his reins and leads him to a barrel, where the horse sits down like a human. measuring the horse’s hoof, the smithy declares “size 6 and 7/8ths!”, a number that would be frequented in quite a few cartoons, particularly porky’s preview, another avery cartoon, where porky himself labels the number as “(FUNNY)”. porky dutifully salutes and scours the shop for a suitable horseshoe, stacked in shoeboxes in neat rows of shelves. another director attempting to pull off such a literal gag may have gotten a few polite chuckles, but tex ensures that it’s funny. it’s not that wild of a gag if you think about it, but tex approaches it like it is. his love of jokes and gags really breathe life into his cartoons.

absentmindedly, porky reaches into a box of rubber horseshoes instead of iron horseshoes (cleverly named bad-year, a take on the goodyear tires.) for reasons unknown, rubber horseshoes were all the rage in the 30s, presumably because they were much quieter than iron and much more comfortable for the horse. unfortunately, being rubber, they aren’t so easy to smelt. lots of bounce-back. porky finds this out fairly quickly as he goes to hammer the horseshoe, then getting whacked in the eye by the hammer and glaring at the horseshoe suspiciously. very funny animation by bob clampett. porky tries again, getting hit once more. instead, he ducks out of the way, so the hammer can’t hit him. of course it does, konking him on the head. ah, but wait! the perfect solution! porky places a nearby kettle on his head like a helmet, and braces for impact as he pounds on the horseshoe. nothing. now complacent, porky takes off his “helmet”, and the hammer wastes no time whacking him in the face, completely unprompted. porky’s befuddled stare is lovely after the fact.

horseshoe in hand, porky goes to hammer the horseshoe to the horse’s hoof, but accidentally nails it to the smithy’s outstretched foot instead. porky gives him the okay (another high pitched “okey dokey”—i knew it was reused again!), but quickly comes to realize his mistake. animation is quite literally bouncy, rubbery, and amusing as the smithy walks through his shop, practically skipping as the rubber propels him into the air with each step. his footsteps grow higher in height, to the point where the smithy bangs his head against the ceiling. aggravated, he pries off the horseshoe, throwing it out of the shop in frustration. it bounces against a tree, and, being rubber, knocks right back into the smithy like a boomerang. this time, the smithy tosses the shoe out and slams the door shut, thinking he’s outwitted the horseshoe. not the case—the horseshoe flies in from behind courtesy of an open window and hits the smithy, a gag that would be reused in porky’s badtime story and later tick tock tuckered.

instead of letting his temper get to him, the smithy gingerly places the horseshoe on the ground with the utmost patience and grace. of course, the horseshoe comes back with a vengeance, slingshotting into the face of the smithy from just the slightest contact with the floor. a lovely gag with perfect timing. now visibly furious, the smithy places the horseshoe in a clamp, locking it so as to keep it still. locked in place, the horseshoe causes the entire shop to tremble vigorously as it tries to break out of its vice. the smithy puts the shoe out of its misery by shooting it with a gun, the shoe flopping down motionless. in all, a great sequence that really takes advantage of rubbery animation. not unlike porky’s dog drinking rubberizing solution and literally turning into a rubber hose character in porky’s tire trouble.

a befuddled porky wanders into the scene, bringing the smithy his trusty steed. the smithy orders porky to get him a (proper) horseshoe. the smithy literally smacks the horse into its reins, pushing its entire body through the exposed hole, while porky prepares the horseshoe, smelting it.

in many of my tex reviews, i often laud him about his use of timing and speed. a few times i’ve mentioned how the timing has thrown an entire cartoon out of proportion. this is always the scene i have in mind. porky grabs the smoldering hot horseshoe, running across the shop with the searing death trap unsecured in a clamp. porky trips, and the horseshoe is sent flying into the air, landing right on the horse’s butt and essentially branding it. the horse justifiably leaps up in agony, and with the cart attached, barrels into the smithy. thus, the smithy is sent toppling into the wagon, pulled uncontrollably by a burning horse.

just a great number of gags, one after the other. the chase leads out of the shop and right through a general store, reducing it to nothing but wood planks and half a foundation. past the traffic guard they zoom, spinning the guard around like a top in the process. whirling past a bank destroys the façade, and the interior is exposed as we spot a robber trying to hammer his way into the safe. a ditch digger ducks just in time for the horse and the smithy to race by, the digger popping his head up from the hole and ogling at the audience nonplussed.

a sign reads HERE THEY COME!, and certainly they do come, spinning the sign in the process so that the other side reads THERE THEY GO! the horse manages to flip the cart and itself over a chasm, maintaining no breaks in the chase. just a great setup as the sequence freezes for a moment, the smithy addressing the audience, “whew! what a buggy ride!”

the chase is lead to a fence, the pulled string slingshotting them BACKWARDS. as expected (yet still exhilaratingly so), the entire chase scene plays out backwards—a classic tex averyism. this entire chase scene is highly reminiscent of a chase scene in tex’s first droopy cartoon, dumb-hounded, though to a higher degree. same exhilarating chase, same exhilaration reversed. here, the damage is essentially reversed—the sign is flipped back to HERE THEY COME!, the ditch digger almost gets his head cut off once more (though this time he asks “say, am i missing something?”), the bank façade is restored and the robber concealed, the traffic guard is put out of his interminable top spin, a newly constructed general store with workers putting on the finishing touches is moved out of the way just in time for the horse and the smithy to not so safely return to the shop.

winded, the smithy wipes the sweat off his forehead. “say, listen,” he addresses porky, “tell me how all this happened.” porky re-enacts the scene. “well, i just had a hot horseshoe like this—“ he holds up another scalding hot horseshoe, “—and i was running like this, and uh...” as he runs with the horseshoe, he trips over once more, and the horseshoe is sent flying into the horse’s rear a second time. we iris out as the entire chase scene starts from the beginning, the smithy sent toppling into the cart and barreling into the general store.

so much to address! but, in all: this is one of my favorite tex cartoons at his tenure at warner bros. earle hodgins does a fantastic job as the narrator, tex as the smithy. the cartoon is so anti disney, so sardonic, so wild and out there, so unconventional. it’s still hilarious (and then some) 83+ years later, and still innovative and new. the fourth wall breaks are strong and feel natural, not at all forced or obligatory. the animation is fun and amusing, especially in conjunction with the increasingly frustrated narrator. and that chase scene is just impeccable. truly a scene that just goes off the rails. remember, all of that destruction and havoc occurred because porky TRIPPED and a horseshoe burnt the horse. 10 seconds in and the chase wasn’t even about the burn anymore, it was just a chase for the hell of it. and it totally works. i definitely encourage you to see the scene, if not this entire cartoon in general. i can’t implore you enough to watch it. i truly think this is one of the best cartoons we’ve seen in this journey. see for yourself and allow the cartoon to succeed in where my words have failed.

link!

#lt #the village smithy #reviews #looney tunes #long post #avery

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Winter

Rated 18+

“Mmm, Yixing…” Zhang Yixing looked down in dismay, watching as you lovingly faked your way through another orgasm. You were very good at it—soft and sweet, and imminently realistic. No glass-shattering screeches, or siren-like banshee wails. In fact, if he hadn’t been inside of you when it happened, he would have sworn that it had been real. His pleasure greatly diminished, he rolled over onto his side, and pulled your body tightly against his. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing the length of your body to him. He could sense the tension strumming through you, so he gently stroked your smooth, curving bottom until you relaxed. 

Your face was buried in his neck, his hand still tangled in your hair. He knew that you loved him, just as he knew that you were aroused by him. But here you were, on the last week of your three-week honeymoon and, to his knowledge, you had yet to have an orgasm. At first, he wasn’t surprised. You had been a virgin when you married, so he knew that the first few times would be an adjustment for you. However, now he was starting to worry. You didn’t dislike sex…he knew that as truly as he knew his own name. He knew that you loved being with him almost as much as he enjoyed you. Within three weeks, he had seen you blossom from shy, sweet, eager virgin, to generous, willing, sensual lover. Yixing couldn’t understand why you had yet to climax. You had done a number of things…in a number of positions…in a number of places, but within several days, he started to suspect that you weren’t reaching your peak. Unlike you, Yixing was no virgin when you wed. He had never been too wild, but he had been in a few sexual relationships—enough to know how it felt when a woman came on his cock. He remembered feeling dry-mouthed at your wedding reception just thinking about your sweet little butterfly flutters moving up and down his hard shaft while you softly breathed his name in his ear. He sighed. He just didn’t know what was wrong. You had yet to say no to any of his advances—in fact, several times, you had seduced him. While you were together, your body told him that you were aroused. The flush under your bronze skin, your tight little cinnamon nipples, your dilated pupils and darkened irises, your accelerated breathing, your elevated pulse, your writhing, trembling body, not to mention the delectable wetness that literally dripped–dripped–from your swollen sex, down your soft thighs, all told him that you wanted him. Yixing was a biology professor at Duke University, whose Ph.D from Tsinghua University had been on human sexual response. He knew what arousal looked like. You had been a law student when you two met, though you both waited until you had graduated before seriously dating, in order to quell any rumours on the surprisingly small campus. The first few times that you had been in each other’s company, he had thought you cold and methodical. Upon seeing you more and more however, he realized that, though you were methodical, cold couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Once you opened up, you were charming, loyal, conscientious, and…as he had learned in the last two weeks, exceedingly passionate. Yixing kissed your warm shoulder, while you purred, and snuggled closer, breathing slowly regulating into that of sleep. He didn’t know why you weren’t reaching your release, but he was going to find out before the honeymoon was over, and real life came between you. ************************************************** Yixing awoke to the enchanting sight of you bent over, plump caramel buttocks, courtesy of a Kenyan grandmother, peeking insouciantly out of your cream-coloured lace boy-shorts as you reached between your legs to attach your garters to your silken stockings. “Good morning to me,” he slurred in a sleep-roughened baritone. You glanced at him from between your legs, then slid a hand under your long, thick, wavy, warm chocolate brown hair to help flip it back over your shoulders as you straightened. Smiling invitingly, wearing nothing but a matching creamy lace bra, panty, and garter belt set, and pale, golden, finely worked silk fishnet stockings, you slowly crawled up the bed to him. Straddling his hips you slowly stroked your hands up and down the sides of his chest. “Good morning to you, lover,” you responded, leaning in for a kiss. Yixing turned his head and stilled your arms. “Ehhh…not before I’ve showered. You smell amazing,” here he inhaled the warm, humid air that still held notes of your blood orange whipped bath soap, “and I’m chock full of morning breath, and fresh urine.” You wrinkled your nose and laughed, gracefully removing one leg and letting yourself fall on your back beside him. “Oh, Dr. Zhang, you always know just what to say.” He lasciviously grabbed a handful of smooth, soft thigh, and squeezed before rolling out of bed, and sauntering to the bathroom. “A gentleman knows never to touch a lady while he’s unshowered, unbrushed, and still covered in questionable substances from the previous night.” He turned in the bathroom doorway to face you. “I’m filthy–” You rolled quickly and easily to your knees, hands planted on the bed, looking for all the world like something straight out of his most fevered transition year fantasies. “I like it when you make me dirty, Dr. Zhang,” you purred dulcetly, in your husky Southern drawl. He laughed, delighted. “Behave yourself, you impertinent young chit! I’m a man, not a sex-machine!” You fell back on the bed, rolling with laughter, while Yixing affected a long-suffering expression, and went in for his shower. When he emerged, you were fully dressed in a figure-hugging cream wool pencil skirt, five inch black leather heels, and an iridescent golden-ebony silk button-down shirt. He held the towel negligently around his narrow hips, water still dripping from his raven hair. “I just don’t know, darling,” he started, shaking his head sadly, while his black eyes twinkled. “Are you sure that I’m not overdressed?” he finished, indicating his lack of clothing. You turned, your large hazel eyes widening at the sight of his bare torso, water trickling slowly and lovingly down his sleek frame. Giving a breathless little laugh, you rejoined, “I’m sure that no one would have the temerity to complain against such a well-tailored ensemble.” Yixing grinned, letting his towel slip casually from his hips as he walked over to pull clothing from his suitcase. Tossing the towel over his shoulder into the bathroom, he savoured the feeling of your eyes on him, as he took his time dressing. Oh, no…whatever the problem, a lack of desire from you were not the cause. A sudden knock at the door startled Yixing from his thoughts. He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. “Room service,” you explained. “I know how much playing with me tuckers you out, old man.” He grinned. Though he was only five years older than you, it was your running joke that he had robbed the cradle while you were busy robbing the grave. He walked over to the door, and opened it to a bright young bellhop who wheeled in the brunch cart. Yixing tipped the bellhop, who playfully saluted him and left, whistling cheerily. Lifting the silver lid from the various dishes on the cart, he looked at you in delight. You shrugged. “You worked pretty hard last night, Yixing-mine. I thought that you deserved something more than the usual croissant and coffee this morning, so I asked them to make something a bit more substantial for you.”

Yixing happily eyed the fluffy herbed omelette, steaming croissants, rich hot chocolate, and strawberries arranged artfully over creamy yogurt. “Oh, I knew that there was a reason I married you.” “What can I say?” you asked, sitting on his lap and putting a cool, sweet strawberry to his lips. “I give good room service…” ************************************************** Stepping out onto the streets of Paris a short time later, you walked arm in arm on your way to go exploring. You had spent each week in a different French city, culminating your honeymoon in the City of Light, and though you knew that you probably should do the culturally relevant thing, and see as many museums as possible, you were really enjoying just finding whatever you could discover on your long walks. This morning (okay, afternoon) however, you had an appointment to take a boat ride on the Seine. Yixing watched your swaying bottom, as you made your way up the gangplank ahead of him. He suppressed the animalistic urge to drag you under his body and thrust into you until your body had no choice but to give you an orgasm. He shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. If he kept thinking like that, he’d embarrass you both. The boat ride passed happily for you two, with you laughing in delight as the wind made short work of your previously artful coif. Shaking your head in surrender, you removed the pins holding up your hair, and let the wind tangle it around your face, making you look like a gamin little fairy. Yixing just watched you. He loved looking at you. Your artless delight with life never failed to make him want to protect you, and join you, in equal parts. It didn’t help that you were a neat foot shorter than he. Though he logically knew that you were well equipped to take care of yourself, having studied krav maga at your father’s knee, there was a primitive part of him that wanted to shield you from the depredations of the world. He sighed and watched as the wind blew your hair straight back, making you look like a wild siren. After your boat ride, you took a stroll down the Rue Montorgueil, so that you could explore its open-air market. Yixing purchased a wicker basket for you, and then held it as you flitted from stall to stall, slowly filling it with various vibrant fruits, freshly baked pastries, and rich cheeses. You took a meandering walk to the Parc Monceau, found a secluded spot, and shared a leisurely picnic. Yixing loved to watch you eat. He felt like a secret pervert at mealtimes. You were just such a sensual eater. He didn’t think that such a thing existed until he met you. When you bit into something that you particularly liked, you’d purr, or sometimes give a little soft moan, and close your eyes. Also, in the absence of silverware, if something dripped onto your fingers, your quick little pink tongue would dart out and slowly lave the offending digit, looking like nothing so much as a serious little cat. The best part of it was, you were totally unaware of this behaviour. He’d seen you do the same things when you didn’t know that you were being watched. He cleared his throat, surreptitiously adjusted himself, and sighed, wishing that you were back at the hotel. You looked up quizzically at him, sensing his mild distress. Yixing smiled reassuringly at you, and took a hearty bite from his crispy, still-warm croque monsieur. You went wandering around the boulevards, stopping to watch interesting street performers, or to peer down dark, narrow streets like nosy children. At the entrance of the first bookstore that you found, you stopped and sucked in a breath like a child on Christmas morning. Yixing looked around, seeing nothing but stacks upon stacks of dusty old tomes. You moved easily through the claustrophobic shelves, chattering gaily in French with the shopkeeper. Yixing finally leaned against a wall and just watched you as you traced your fingertips over the spines, occasionally stopping to open a book and briefly read what was inside. You ended up buying several first editions of various children’s books for your sister. He grinned as you left the store. “Fiona just had the baby. He won’t be able to read English for years, let alone French.” You peered at him haughtily over your tortoise-shell spectacles, your hair unbound and wild, and several dusty smudges on your face. “I’ll have you know that my nephew is a genius. While I was playing with him at the wedding, I asked him what the cat says, and do you know what he said, Yixing? He said, ‘Miau’. Does an ordinary three month old know that? No, unless you are as perfect as Aubrey, which is highly doubtful, as he is the pinnacle of everything that a baby should be.” Yixing stopped you as you started to brush by him, resting his arm above your head on the building behind you, and said low, “And you don’t think that you’re just a little bit biased?” You looked up at him, smiling beatifically. “No!” “Should I be jealous?” he smiled down at you, ebony eyes alight with good humour, his fingers gently stroking your jaw. “Mmm…maybe,” you flirted. “You know that I’ve always had a thing for short, chubby, bald men!” Laughing, you slid past him. You spent the next few hours flitting through dusty old used book, and ephemera shops. After the last little antique shop, where he had bought you a coquettish little fan, and you had purchased a heavy set of silver and garnet cufflinks for him, he followed you from the store, catching hold of your hand. Smiling at one another, you leisurely made your way to Le Cordon Bleu for an open dinner demonstration. ************************************************** You sighed wistfully as Yixing knelt before you, removing your shoes, and gently stroking your calves. “Who knew a knife could move so fast! And the designs that he carved into those carrot shavings were so intricate! They looked like filigree! Oh—and that rosemary smoke that he infused into his tuna sashimi amuse-bouche was a transcendent experience, both visually and olfactorily…” You drifted off as you realized that he wasn’t saying much, just looking up at you indulgently, one hand around your right ankle, thumb stroking it gently. You smiled ruefully. “I’m babbling, aren’t I?” He smiled lazily up at you. “I like to listen you talk.” He traced his fingers slowly up and down the front of your left leg. “You have the cutest little accent.” “Me?!” you gasped in mock surprise. “Your accent is cuter.” He grinned mischievously up at you. “I don’t have an accent.  I just speak in italics.” You ruffled his hair playfully. He wrapped his arms around your left leg and leaned his cheek against it. He began placing slow, gentle, sweet kisses on the outside of your knee. “Baobei,” he started softly. “Hm?” you responded, savouring the feel of his soft lips against your leg. “I want to talk to you about something, lovely,” he said, his voice low and caressing. “Hm?” you said dreamily. “I love you,” he started. “Love…” you trailed, stroking his hair. He could feel the heat of your arousal warming his cheek as he knelt at your feet. He smiled, hiding his lips against the outside of your knee. You were terrifyingly articulate. You had a savage intelligence that at times awed him, and you were a mistress of debate, and rhetoric. When you were aroused, however…your level of verbal communication nosedived. During the first week of your honeymoon, while you were making love, he had slid his hand down to your curls, his fingertips questing for your tight little bud. You had squealed, and then sighed, “Hacienda….” “Hacienda?” he had queried, bemused. “A Spanish estate plantation?” “Oh, I don’t know! Don’t know!” you had moaned, arching under him and practically ripping the sheets from the bed. You didn’t even speak Spanish. He forced his mind back to the present. “I love you,” he repeated. He slid his right hand slowly up the back of your left leg, cupping the back of your knee as he continued to place soft kisses on the outside of it. He slid his left hand up under your skirt, slowly stroking your right hip. “I love you, and I want you, and I know that you love me…that you want me…” “Mm-hm,” you nodded in artless agreement. “I am yours. All I want is to spend the rest of my life making you happy, which is why…we need to discuss why you haven’t had an orgasm when we make love.” He kept up his caresses, watching your face. A small frown line appeared between your eyebrows. Your head tilted, as if you were contemplating some difficult problem, and then twitched. Your head twitched again, and you slowly shook it, as if to clear yourself of a mental fog. “No…no…” you said softly, your body trying to scoot away from him. Your eyes opened, and you looked confused. He pulled you closer, not allowing you to move away from him. You made a little sound of distress, and he slid his arms around your hips, and pulled you down into his lap. Nuzzling your ear, he whispered, “Please, baobei…talk to me…” his accent thickening. You whined, and then turned to him, burying your face in his neck, arms wrapped around him. He stroked your hair and slowly rocked you. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “No—don’t ever be sorry. There’s no need for sorry, you haven’t done anything wrong. However, this is something that we need to talk about before it goes any further.” He rubbed his jaw against your hair. “Before we were married, you told me that you used to masturbate…did you finish then?” You nodded miserably. “Okay…okay. Have you done it since we were married?” “Oh, no!” you protested, backing up to look into his eyes. “I haven’t needed to do that—you keep me satisfied.” He smiled ruefully, “Thanks for that, but something is awry, and we need to figure out how to take care of it.” He placed a finger under your chin, gently stroking the soft skin. “You don’t want to go the rest of your life without having an orgasm with me, do you?” “Well…no…” you replied slowly. “And isn’t it better to take care of it sooner rather than later?” he cajoled. “Yes?” you said uncertainly. “Alright, then,” he said comfortably. “Do you want me?” You looked up at him, speechless, eyes wide in shock. Then you set your jaw and said, “Zhang Yixing, if you actually think that I don’t want you, why then you’re dumb as a post! Want you?! I can’t stop thinking about you! Your scent, your touch, the sound of your voice, the way you taste… Sometimes we’re out and it’s all I can do to not drag you into a dark alley, climb on top of you, and ride you like Seabiscuit! Would I have married you if I didn’t want you?” He chuckled. “Fair enough”, he said, hands raised in surrender. “Just making sure that that’s out of the way.” You harrumphed. He grinned. “So, we know that you’re not sexually indifferent, we know that you want me, am I…” here he paused uncertainly. “Not…good?” You melted in his arms. ”Yixing…you make me tremble.” You looked down shyly. “You make me…writhe and whimper…you make me tingle…all over…. When I’m with you…I lose language. All I can think of is you, and the feeling of your warm breath ghosting across my skin. The feeling of your hot hands stroking me…caressing me… everywhere. And your voice…it’s so soft, but powerful…it makes me want to do…everything with you…” You finally halted, staring down at your hands, cheeks flaming. He cleared his throat, momentarily nonplussed. He had been told that he was a good lover before, but never in such an open, vulnerable, honest way. He brought your wrist to his mouth, gently placing a kiss on the warm, delicate inside. Softly, so as not to make you defensive, he asked desperately, “So then…what is it, baobei?” You shrugged mournfully. "I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I could blame it on nervousness, but I haven’t been nervous since the first time. I thought, maybe because it was because you made me so wet…too wet. But extra friction didn’t help, either.” He nodded, thinking. “Let’s do an experiment.” You perked up, pressing your breasts to his chest. “Down, little girl—not that sort of experiment!” he laughed. She pouted charmingly. “But I love playing naughty mad scientist!” “You love to play, period.” he retorted. You nodded, grinning mischievously. “You’re not wrong.” Yixing smiled. No, disinterest was not the problem, here. “I’m going to shower first tonight. You stay out here and…” here he slowly walked his fingers up your inner thigh, and gently tapped at the apex of your thighs. You raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned. Climbing to his feet, with you in his arms, he set you on the bed and began loosening his tie. Walking backwards to the bathroom, he said, “Let’s just see what happens. See you on the other side.” He closed the door, and left you to your personal playtime.

When he exited the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, he found you sitting on the side of the bed, looking thoughtful. “Well?” he gently queried.

You nodded, blowing out a breath. “It worked.” He sat beside you, not even bothering to put on a towel, and you leaned against his warm side, uncaring of his intermittent dripping. “So, what does this mean?” you asked.

“Well,” he sighed, “it’s not physical.”

You were silent. Then your face crumpled. “I just want to be good for you!”

“What?” he asked, bemused by your outburst.

“It’s so frustrating. All I want is to please you, and I can’t even do that!” you said bitterly.

“What do you mean, ‘please’ me?” he questioned.

“I want to keep you aroused,” you answered haltingly.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“I don’t know,” you said dismissively turning away.

“Yes you do,” he coaxed, wrapping his arm around you, and laying your head against his shoulder. “Talk to me, love.”

“I don’t want to bore you. I just don’t understand why my body isn’t cooperating.” You bit your lip.

He was silent. Then, he said slowly, “I think…I think that we’ve just discovered the problem.” You lifted your head to look at him questioningly. He began to slowly rub your arm. “You don’t have to…perform for me. You are my wife, not a contracted…porn star. I think that you’re…so worried about looking, and sounding good that your mind is keeping your body from taking over.” He pulled you into his lap, and wrapped his arms around you.

“Baobei…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Sex isn’t entertainment. It’s about loving and giving, cherishing and adoring another person, while you reciprocally love and give, cherish and adore.” You stared at him in shock as he went on. “It’s a physical representation of unconditional love that is supposed to be given exclusively between two people.” He paused to give you a chance to respond.

“I would be inclined to agree with you, but…” You sighed, blowing a stray tendril from your face. You gathered your courage, then plunged on, “Studies have shown that during sex, about the only time a man experiences a surge of oxytocin is during orgasm. After orgasm, a man’s oxytocin levels return to his normally relatively low levels. Conversely, not only do women produce oxytocin during sex, orgasm, and post orgasm, but you also produce higher levels of oxytocin during each stage.” It was his turn to stare at you. “What I’m trying to say is that…sex will not necessarily make you bond with me emotionally, but I know that if I can keep you sexually interested, then you’ll be more inclined to stay because you’ll want to keep having sex with me.”

Silence reigned after your little speech. Your face flushed redder and redder as Yixing continued to stay silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was very soft. “I think that the casually graphic that way sex is portrayed in modern media, has caused you not to regard it as communication, but to instead adopt the idea that it’s primarily for recreation, or even sport. What was lost in the translation was intimacy.” You turned away in embarrassment. He took your hand, and gently stroked your ring finger. “Fifteen days ago, with this ring I thee wed.” He kissed your tawny little knuckle, then stood with you in his arms. Carrying you into the bathroom, he whispered into your hair, “Tonight, with my body I thee worship…”

He stood you next to the tub, and began to gently remove your clothing. When you realized what he was doing, you moved to help him, but he brushed away your hands. “No, baobei, tonight I want to take care of you. Will you let me do that?” You nodded hesitantly while he finished pulling your shirt from your skirt, and patiently undid all of the tiny pearl buttons. He lifted your left wrist and undid your cuff, kissing the round little bone at the outside of your wrist, then moving to the other. You smiled a grateful smile inside when he tossed your shirt into the hamper. Yixing was so neat. It was one of the things that you loved about him. He leaned into you, slowly stroking his hand down your side, brushing it over your ribs and caressing your hip. Bringing his hand back up, he slowly undid the zipper at your side, and let the skirt pool to the floor.

“Step out of it, please,” he asked politely. After tossing it into the hamper, he wrapped his long arms around you, slowly sliding his hands up your spine. Yixing deftly undid your bra, sliding your straps down your arms without moving back, so that the tips of your nipples brushed his chest as you breathed. You leaned forward, nuzzling his neck, and he tilted his head to nuzzle your cheek. Before he became lost, he took a step back, and knelt at your feet, to undo your stockings and toss them with the quickly growing pile. He slowly slid his hands up your naked, sensitive legs, cupping your bottom, and pulling you forward, so that he could bury his face in the soft warmth at the top of your thighs. He breathed deeply, scenting your arousal, and feeling your wetness against his lips. He looked up at you, wearing nothing but your garter belt and panties, your hair framing your face as you looked down at him.

He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, and slowly uncovered your curls, placing soft, reverent kisses on them as he dragged your panties lower. After you had stepped out of them, Yixing brought them briefly to his face, inhaling the salty, light scent of your arousal, while looking up at you. Your mouth had fallen slightly open at the sight of your husband at your feet, with your panties held to his face, so he gently placed them in the hamper, resisting the urge to really scandalize you by suddenly letting his tongue slide up your slit.

Yixing stood, leaned into the stall, and turned on the shower. He helped you into the shower, positioning you to stand with the steaming spray running over your front, while he stood behind you, warming your back, one arm around your waist, his erection nestled between your soft cheeks. Taking a sponge and dipping it into the pot of whipped soap, he began to slowly lather your body from head to toe. When he reached your intimate areas, you made as if to take over, but he stopped you, whispering seductively in your ear, “No, baobei. I take care of what is mine…” You gasped as he slid a warm, soapy cloth between your legs, leisurely cleaning you there, then slipped the cloth between your cheeks. You blushed as the roving cloth slid over your tightly furled rosebud, but you didn’t stop him.

By the time you left the shower, you had been thoroughly bathed, with great attention having been paid to your more…sensitive areas. Yixing wrapped you in a warm, fluffy towel, brushing it over your skin to absorb the shower water. When he was satisfied that you had been thoroughly dried, he gave himself a quick once over with the towel, to rid himself of any extraneous water. Tossing the towel into the hamper, he started for you, his engorged cock insouciantly bouncing from thigh to thigh. You giggled at the sight, and he grinned, briefly making it dance for you.

He stalked toward you again, and you backed toward the bed, sitting with a sudden plop. He grinned again as he moved forward, forcing you to climb backward on the bed, until your back hit the headboard. Yixing wrapped an arm around your waist, and pulled you down onto your back, climbing on top of you. You started to wrap your arms around his neck, but he took your hands from around his shoulders, kissed your wrists, and then drew them over your head. “Lie here, just like that,” he said. He left to procure two of his ties, then returning, used one to deftly bind your wrists to the headboard. You looked up at him, hurt, and he said, “This is to make sure that you don’t drive me mad with those questing little hands of yours. As soon as you put your hands on me…I lose control,” here, he brushed his mouth over yours, continuing, “You make me crazy.”

Mollified, you lay back and let him finish tying you securely. Yixing gazed down at his sweet little wife looking up at him so trustingly. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.  Smiling, you did so, and he used his other tie to blindfold you.  Looking over you, he gave you a slow, crooked grin, as he whispered, “I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.” Your eyes widened behind the blindfold as you recognized the opening line to one of your favourite Neruda love poems. His mouth descended on yours, and you shivered as he gave you a thorough, probing kiss. His firm lips slid against your soft ones, his tongue rhythmically plunging into your mouth, brushing your tongue, sliding across your teeth, tickling along the seam of your mouth. You groaned low, and Yixing felt a jolt shoot down to his cock as you involuntarily arched, and nipped him, sinking your sharp little teeth into his sensitive bottom lip. He smiled against your mouth as he felt you squirming slowly beneath him.

He dragged his lips down to your throat, placing tender kisses against the delicate skin. Your head fell back as his warm mouth teased the sensitive skin of your throat, making you squirm even more. His hand was buried in your hair, fingertips stroking your sensitive scalp.

He moved his mouth lower, rubbing his cheek along the curve of your right breast. He murmured, “Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.” Looking up to watch your face, Yixing opened his mouth over your breast, and gently bit. His flickering tongue laved your sensitive nipple as his teeth sank into the soft flesh of your full, warm breast. You released a high pitched whine, as your face contorted in pleasure. Sucking hard, his tongue lapping around your puckered areola, he brought his strong left hand to your other breast, palming it a little roughly as his tongue gently stroked. He caressed your breast, brushing over your insistent little nipple with his thumb, even as his hot, wet mouth was busy with its twin. You jerked as jolts of pleasure shot from your breasts down to your swollen clitoris, which was peeking out of its wet little red hood, begging for a soft kiss.

Yixing switched his mouth to the other breast, latching on and sucking powerfully, as he brought his right hand to your left breast, to gently pinch and twist your now-wet nipple. Your mouth worked silently, as he lavished attention on your breasts, his loving ministrations leaving them flushed, nipples hard and sensitive. He moved his head between your breasts, cupping them, so that they brushed against his face as he leisurely kissed, licked, nibbled, and suckled his way back up to your neck.

Against your throat, he hoarsely whispered, “Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.” You sighed as he opened his mouth over your throat, letting his teeth graze your soft skin. He reverently placed small, sucking kisses against your throat, moving to the exquisitely sensitive place along the side of your neck. Growling roughly, Yixing let go and sank his teeth into the softness beneath him. A tortured whimper filtered past his inflamed senses, as your little body softened beneath his, and he smiled inwardly.

His mind idly drifted back to the immense sense of satisfaction he had felt when he learned that you loved being bitten. And you loved to bite… you were the one woman that he had ever met that didn’t care if he left marks on your skin. When had once repeated the question that previous girlfriends had asked him, namely, “What will people think?” to gauge your reaction, you had responded with a neat, dry, “They’ll get over it.”

Yixing opened his mouth, and slowly ran his tongue over the small indentations his teeth had left, while you slowly melted, boneless, into the bed. He began placing slow, suckling kisses down to your collarbone, then dragged his warm mouth over your sternum to your belly, nipping and suckling at your soft, fragrant skin. He rubbed his jaw over the smooth skin of your tummy, like a cat marking his territory, covering you with his scent.

He briefly paused, fantasizing, before being distracted by the slow rolling of your hips underneath his chest. Softly, reverently kissing his way to your right hip bone, he slowly dragged his tongue along the sensitive hollow between your hip bone and the side of your curls. You purred, then arched sharply, as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh. He lazily traced his lapping tongue down, where your thigh met your sex, using his long, veiny, gentle hands to slowly open your legs.

He could feel the anticipation thrumming through you as his warm breath ruffled your curls. He chuckled to himself, deep and low, before moving his face to nuzzle the curving hollow of your left inner thigh. You relaxed under him, your left calf resting against his back as he nuzzled, kissed, and stroked his way over the soft skin. He slid his warm palms slowly up your thighs, up your hips, as he switched his attentions your right thigh. Just as he sensed your complete relaxation, he struck, closing his mouth over your skin, his sharp white teeth sinking deeply into the flushed, warm flesh of the inside of your thigh. Your reaction was immediate and satisfying, as you threw back your head, arching and panting. Yixing loved teasing you like this. Building you up, letting you relax…and then building you up again. It made you wild, transforming you from a cool little logician into a panting, writhing, arching slave of his ardent love.

He transferred his mouth to your other thigh, nipping and suckling the soft skin, rubbing his warm cheek over you. He could smell the scent of your arousal, salty and clean, and he had to shut his eyes tightly against the insistent pulse in his groin. He looked up at the shining wetness, coating your swollen lips, and dug his fingers roughly into the side of your thigh. He let go when you moaned, realizing that, in his distraction, he was gripping you too tightly. Though you liked it when he lost control, when he gripped you too tightly, and kissed you too roughly, tonight he would control himself. At least…for now… He made his way down your body with soft kisses along the insides of your thighs, your knees, your calves. He lifted each delicate foot, and pressed soft, loving kisses against your ankles, adoring every part of your exquisite little body.

He crawled slowly back up your body, briefly sparing a longing look at your inviting sex then, removing himself from temptation, draped himself over you. Running his hands over your waist and hips, he moved lower, to slide his fingers behind your knees. He gently massaged the backs of your knees in slow circles while you opened your legs and artlessly moved your hips against him, panting lightly. Yixing had discovered this little erogenous zone of yours on your third night together. He pressed his chest tightly to yours, as he ran warm his palms over your rounded calves, cupping them as he gently massaged. You relaxed, as he glided his hands back up your thighs, up your hips, up your waist, up your delicate ribs, and up the soft, sensitive insides of your arms.

He took his time, gently tracing his fingertips along your soft, pale skin of your inner arms, as he kissed and suckled your shoulder. “I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the colour of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,” he whispered against the side of your throat. He climbed to his knees, and let his mouth follow the path that his left hand had taken, suckling the sensitive skin of your inner arm. He ran his tongue in slow circles against the crook of your elbow as you softly sighed and squirmed at his thorough attention. Yixing nipped and suckled his way up your arm until he could lavish your delicate wrist with the wet, suckling heat of his open mouth and tracing tongue.

He transferred his mouth to your other wrist, nipping down and licking against the almost translucent skin. He slowly made his way down the inside of your arm, pausing to treat the inside of this elbow to the same slow, wet, warm affection as the other. As he continued his way down, his mouth open and suckling against your underarm, he slid his hand up your arm and used his fingertips to gently stroke the soft, private skin between your fingers.

He nuzzled close to you, deepening his voice as he purred in your ear, “…I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.” You moaned at this pronouncement, writhing under his hand as he slowly ran it between your breasts, down your warm belly, over your soft curls, only to let his fingertips lazily explore your wet little slit. He rested on his side, pressed tightly to yours, as he leisurely stroked up and down your slit, his fingers spreading your slipperiness over your full, pink and golden lips. He slid his fingertips to your opening, circling it slowly, agonizingly as he placed gentle kisses along the shell of your ear. You shuddered as you felt him stroke his fingertips shallowly into your wet heat, teasing the slick flesh of your opening. He rested his palm against your curls, your swollen bud rubbing against his hand as he petted you, teased you, stroked you. He slid his tongue into your ear, making you tremble uncontrollably as he licked. He moved his mouth to your earlobe, dragging the tip of his tongue around the edge, and then sucking it into his mouth, as his clever little fingers slid inside and firmly caressed your G-spot. He had discovered that little sensual surprise on your tenth night together.

As your hips rolled and writhed under his hand, he whispered in your ear, low and hot, “I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,” You could feel the tingles in your body, slowly coalescing into an insistent throb. You were so close, but not there, not yet… Yixing removed his hand from your wet, hot, soft sex. Your eyes opened wide behind the blindfold, and you sucked in a small breath, as you heard the slow, wet noise of him sucking clean every single one of the fingers that had just touched you so sweetly.

He lay against you for a while, panting into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapped heavily around your waist, as he willed his clamouring body to calm. He softly stroked your waist and hip, gently lulling you. His hand drifted to your face, tracing the bone of your nose, stroking your cheek, gliding along your jawline as he hoarsely whispered, “I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,” his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb caressed your moist, plump lips.

Gathering his willpower, he climbed back over you, opening your legs gently, but firmly, as he kissed his way slowly back down your body. Yixing brought his face in line with your sex, swollen and open to his gaze, the glistening hood thrown back from the plump pearl, the inner lips rosy and inviting. He swallowed hard, looking up at you, at your face framed (given his position) by your plump, almond-tipped breasts, and breathed, “…and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.”

You relaxed at these last words, a satisfied smile lighting up your face. He smiled at you, though you couldn’t see it, then slowly lowered his open mouth to your waiting lips. At the first burning kiss, your hips rose sharply, and your thighs clasped his head. “No, no, baobei,” he instructed, pulling your legs over his broad shoulders, and caressing your thighs, “Keep your legs open…”

He brought his lips back down to your waiting wetness, and slowly licked the flat of his tongue from your perineum to your hood, smiling as he heard you trying to stifle a moan. He used his soft tongue to trace your opening, then gently lapped at your inner lips, his lips never breaking contact with your hungry sex. He could feel the warm, slippery, swollen flesh sliding over his mouth, over his tongue as you tried to push yourself closer, ever closer. He smiled against you, reveling in your desire for him. His eyes were closed, as he poured all of concentration into kissing you, licking you, teasing you. Your hips were moving rhythmically against his mouth, and he used his lips to nibble your juicy, warm hood.

When he gently used the top of his teeth to tickle the top of your clit, you arched so sharply that, if he hadn’t had a firm grip on your warm, soft thighs, you would have bucked him off onto the floor. He shuddered against you, his excitement mounting as he realized just how excited you were. He felt his control slipping as he rested his cheek on your thigh, indulging in your clean, spicy aroma, like an animal scenting his mate.

Clenching his jaw to supplement his control, he moved back. Moaning against you, his deep voice sending vibrations through your most sensitive places, his slid his hands up to your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth, as if he couldn’t taste enough, smell enough, lick enough to satisfy him. You let out a broken moan, and he realized by the frantic writhing of your hips that you were close. He pulled up himself beside you, and sank his teeth into your neck, as he slid his fingers inside your hungry sex, roughly massaging your G-spot as his thumb firmly massaged your clit. Your stomach muscles clenched, and for a second, you didn’t move, you didn’t even breathe. A breathless, high pitched wail broke free as your first orgasm with your husband crashed over you. “I…I…I…I’m falling! Help me–XingXing–I’m falling!”

“I’ve got you; you’re safe baobei, you’re not going anywhere,” he rasped in your ear, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other holding still between your legs, letting you ride out your pleasure on his slick fingers. He could feel you clenching his fingers deep inside, and he growled with satisfaction.

You strained against your bonds as your head lifted, then fell back, body still tightening around his fingers. He put his lips to your shoulder and stayed still as your frantic movements slowly lessened. An almost overwhelming sense of accomplishment washed over him as he listened to your halting whimpers.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, pausing each time you whimpered, crooning in your ear, “I know, baobei, I know it’s sensitive.” Once his hand was free of your body, well…he couldn’t resist such a perfect treat. He brought his hand to his nose and breathed in the clean, heady aroma of his satisfied woman. Closing his eyes, he gave into temptation and slid his fingers into his mouth, licking off the sweet remnants of your pleasure. Feeling a little dizzy when he finished, he moved to untie you. Your hands fell to his shoulders, deceptively delicate fingers gripping him tightly, as he pulled in off your blindfold, uncovering your seductive eyes shining up at him, lids heavy with satisfaction.

You laced your fingers behind his neck, urging him closer, “XingXing…”

“Mm?” he murmured, busying himself with kissing your arms, your breasts, anything that his mouth could reach. You undulated against him and he stiffened.

“Yixing…” you said again, your voice husky.

“Shhh,” he murmured against your breasts. “I’m not finished with you, yet. I’m going to work you all up again, lovely.”

You slid a warm, moist thigh over his hip, caressing his body with yours. “Want…” you whispered.

Yixing was busy nuzzling your neck, patiently intent on slowly coaxing you back to the edge. “Mmm,” he breathed against your neck. “Not yet, baobei…”

Your hands wound through his hair and you tugged it, sending a pleasurable hum through his scalp. Your hands were wandering everywhere, gripping, caressing, clutching, scratching, and as he had predicted, it was becoming harder to think. “Want…” you breathed again, raking your fingernails over his sensitive nipples. You seemed to try to gather your wits, and said, “Yixing, if you hurry, I think that I can finish again.”

He froze against you as that simple statement shot straight to his hindbrain. He paused to try to understand it, but then you wrapped your hands under his arms and raked your nails sharply down his back and he was lost.

He moved between your legs, your hands on his taut cheeks, nails digging in, urging him. You wrapped your thighs around his waist, and his mind stopped thinking. All he knew was that his body was telling him that you wanted it, to give it to you, to thrust, thrust, thrust, until you gave him what he wanted. In one last moment of clarity, he looked into your eyes, the smoky combination of satisfaction and anticipation driving him wild. He pushed inside of you, inside of your tightness, your heat, your wet, slick, grasping body. Your mouth opened wordlessly, as you felt yourself stretch around his thick cock, but you kept your eyes on his. You wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, and buried the nails of the other into his waist, spurring him.

Yixing groaned, desperately trying to go slow, to give you the slow, hard, steady strokes you needed.

You pulled his head down to yours, and he lay on your body, feeling your soft breasts and tight little nipples grinding into his chest. “Yixing,” you purred. “Faster.”

He paused, taking a moment to let your imperious little order sink into his conscious mind. Then he grinned. Sliding his left arm under your right knee, he pulled it up so that your thigh grazed his ribs. Then, clenching his jaw, he lost control. Growling, thrusting, nipping and licking at your collarbones, at your shoulders, at your neck, he gave himself over to you. Your body jerked involuntarily, each thrust sending a mind-numbing electric shock of pleasure through you, and you held onto his arms as if he were the only thing in your world. Your breaths shuddered in his ear, and that drove him mad. Pulling you roughly closer, as close as he could, he thrust deep into you, his powerful hips slamming demandingly against you, drumming home just to whom you belonged, even as you clutched him closer, and took what was yours.

You were close, but when your husband changed the angle of his hips so that his body was now grinding against your exposed clit, it pushed you over the edge. This orgasm was even more intense than the first, and it ripped a rough, raw cry from your throat. When Yixing felt that first, firm, insistent clench of you around his cock, his eyes rolled back into his head. This is what he had wanted, this is what he had been dreaming about for months, years. His hips thrust into you one last time, and he groaned as he finally let go. A hot lick of fire shot down his spine, and through his balls, as he could almost feel them pumping you with his thick, creamy cum. He felt each clench and rippling pull of you around his shaft as he shot load after load into you, filling you up, giving himself completely to you. “Mine, mine,” you whimpered, your hands running up and down his back, pulling him closer, closer.

“Yes, baobei, I am yours, all yours,” he groaned. Finally his orgasm let him go, and he relaxed on you, boneless and panting. He could feel you still clenching around him, milking his cock with the last vestiges of your orgasm. You wrapped your arms and legs around him, and just held him, your small body slowly moving under his. Ruefully, he realized that you were trying to rock him, and that he should probably move, lest he suffocate you. Yet, when he braced his arms to do so, you held onto him tighter.

“No. Stay. I want you just like this. Hold you,” you said, your breath coming in ragged pants.

“But baobei, I’m too heavy,” he protested.

“No, you’re not. You’re mine. Stay. I like you here. I can take it,” you breathed.

He compromised by sliding down your body, making sure that the bulk of his weight was off of you, as he laid his head against your breasts, and wrapped his arms around you. He listened to you as your breathing normalized, and eventually deepened into that of sleep. Yixing nuzzled his cheek against your soft breasts, relaxing into the safety of your arms, as he fell asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

A/N:  If you want to follow me, then please do so on my main blog @vampwrrr, as I always update there, first.

#yixing scenarios #exo scenarios #lay scenarios #yixing smut #exo smut #lay smut #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #lay fanfic #lay fanfiction #yixing fanfic #yixing fanfiction #exo #yixing #lay #exo fics #yixing fics #lay fics

[anneapocalypse]

RTX 2019: The RvB Panel

Burnie’s unfortunate remark about Tucker aside (and I learned a long time ago to take nothing Burnie says at panels seriously--for real guys, don’t “Burnie said” people about RvB canon, he’s just talking out his ass most of the time and I say that with love), I enjoyed most of the RvB panel! (It’s on youtube thanks to EruptionFang if you missed my last post). @calliecat93 has already written up a solid rundown of what was discussed at the panel and you can read that here, so I’m not going to cover everything or even close to anything, just talk about my favorite and most noteworthy bits.

The 15-17 arc hasn’t really had an official title yet, but Miles referred to it as “this time travel trilogy” and I think the Time Travel Trilogy is a great name and we should adopt it.

It was pretty cool to see Jason’s enthusiasm for specific characters come through when talking about his work. He said it was exciting when taking on season 17 to take characters he’d grown attached to and give them the treatment he wanted--in particular he mentioned Donut, whom he said he wanted to “put in my pocket and show him the world.” It was sweet, and I’d say that enthusiasm shows with other characters as well.

The panel confirmed that this season had a smaller budget than the previous ones. This doesn’t surprise me, but it was also pointed out that this meant they had less animation budget and needed to write a mostly-machinima story. Season 17 went through a few different treatments before they settled on this story, and there were ideas that Jason liked but just wouldn’t fit the budget.

Miles said that keeping the time travel continuity straight was a feat. I can only imagine. They referred to the part of the timeline where Wash was existing as both his injured and un-injured self as “Schrodinger’s Asshole.”

I do wish they would stop referring to Wash and Carolina’s conversation late in 17 as “saying goodbye.” He’s not dead. He has a disability that’s going to change his life and affect his relationships, but he’s not dead. And they go on to acknowledge this later in the panel, with Jason even saying he thinks it’s cool to have a Blue Team leader with a disability and his friends all supporting him in different ways, so... I don’t know, it’s just weird that it keeps getting framed that way, both in canon and outside of it.

Miles directly compared Locus’s “pacifist kneecapping” to Batman logic, wherein if you didn’t see a character die onscreen they’re probably fine. That gave me a laugh. It’s also not the first time Batman has been referenced jokingly as an influence on RvB. (See also: Sharkface being called a “Batman villain.”)

Jason was inspired to have Chrovos present female in this season because he really liked Kalirama last season, but then she didn’t end up doing a whole lot, and he liked the idea of a female villain. A lot of fans seem to have felt similarly, so I thought that was neat, even if neither character really did it for me personally.

Jason commented that he really loved Kaikaina.  "I love Sister's character, she's just so filthy, and it's like--Tucker has grown a little, so you can't always give him those jokes anymore, you know?" Miles went on to add that Tucker and Kai have very different personalities despite their similarities:

Tucker uses his, like, seemingly perverted and kinky side as... definitely a way of coping with his tremendous amount of insecurities, where Sister’s like, completely owning it and is just like, ‘I know exactly who I am and like, my lifestyle, and you can either get on board or you can get out of my way.’

I think Jason does get Tucker pretty well--I think that’s evident in his treatment of him in 17, and though season 16 Tucker is probably always going to sting a little for me, I can be generous enough to say that the intent was probably there to get at Tucker’s insecurities as the root of his more inappropriate behavior, even if I really dislike the execution of it. I think Jason has a much better understanding of character growth than Joe, and I wouldn’t be disappointed if he ended up staying on for another season.

There was pretty much no mention of Grif, or of his dropped character arc from season 16. There was no mention of Carolina outside of the context of talking about Wash, and her Labyrinth scene didn’t really come up. If I’d been around this weekend and the panel had been streamed, I probably would have tweeted out some questions, but I wasn’t and it wasn’t and I’m not sure they would’ve had the time to address those things in a satisfactory way anyway. If they do another AMA on reddit, maybe I’ll ask there.

A more cogent comment from Burnie was that he felt they jumped into Halo 2 a little too hastily, and he likes the amount of time they took to get comfortable in Halo 3. Everyone seems excited for the armor in the upcoming Halo: Infinite, which has a simpler design more akin to Halo 3.

Where the show goes next will depend a lot on what they have to work with in the new game, but there doesn’t seem to be any question at RT that they’ll be making more RvB.

I still have deeply mixed feelings about season 17 and the things I feel negatively about didn’t really come up in the panel, but watching it did help to remind me of some of the things I liked about it.

#rtx 2019 #rvb panel #red vs blue #rvb17

[snkpolls]

SnK S3E19 Poll Results (Manga Reader Version)

The poll closed with 295 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results of the manga reader poll. Anime only watchers are suggested not to read if you do not wish to be spoiled about certain events! Anime only viewers, click here to view your poll results!

RATE THE EPISODE 285 Responses

This episode raked in high reviews as the rest of the season did, although less people enjoyed it as much as they enjoyed the previous episodes.

The animation was odd in the first half of the episode, but it was absolutely incredible in the second half. Overall an amazing episode, somehow making filler scenes brilliant

It was a little rushed (which is understandable), so 4/5 stars. Overall a really good episode, I think.

I will be honest: the episode was very average. The basement reveal was animated very well. Eren and Mikasa's memories also were very emotional. However, in the scene with Armin & the rest of group the quality of animation dropped harshly. I know that not every scene in the anime can be animated on the highest level, but this one was just looking really bad.

Animation quality took a drop but I still loved it!

I really enjoyed it, and seeing Faye was surprisingly moving given that I'm not really a bit fan of the switch to Marley.

The animation wasn't as good as previous episodes but I didn't really mind, especially because there was a frame in there that made it look like Levi was sMILING and I am so here for that

I've been waiting so long for this episode.

what a beautiful episode, in all ways.

WHICH OF THE FOLLOWING WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOMENT? 290 Responses

Seeing young Grisha and Faye in Marley was the clear highlight of this episode for manga readers, with 37.6% of the vote going to the after-credits scene! Behind that at 12.1% was the scene of Eren and Mikasa nostalgically walking through their hometown, and 9.3% of respondents got a kick out of Levi opening the door in his own way.

I live for animated moments of Dad! Levi to his squad.

At first I was worried that they would just show the photo as the cliffhanger, but once we got the post credit scene I was blown away

I loved the first moments with Faye and young Grisha. Awww! Faye was so extremely cute and innocent. I would love to hug her! I thought that Historia was the sweetest as a kid, but now Faye takes 1st place :)

WHAT’S THE SIGNIFICANCE OF ARMIN SEEING THE COLOSSAL TITAN CRYING, SAYING “IT HURTS?” 288 Responses

36.5% of respondents believe that Armin is hearing and seeing Bertolt’s emotional pain over everything that’s happened to him. 27.1% think that this scene highlights part of the process of memory transfer from one holder of the titan to the successor. 12.8% feel that this is meant to highlight more the process of transferring the titan power to a new host.

A mixture of the Bert's physical and emotional pain, the transfer through paths and the extra creepiness. Bert here is behaving like a typical Japanese ghost who was killed in a brutal manner; notice the paths here are devoid of lights. Bert needs someone to exorcise him.

He's hearing Sasha saying 'It hurts' and because he's only half conscious and still possibly linked to Bertolt's memories, he's projecting it onto Bert. I think his subconscious knows he's eaten Bert at this point.

It has to do with the titan power, and how it hurts to carry such a burden of great power

Bert has been suffering too, just like Reiner, so a little bit of everything.

Foreshadowing of what Armin’s burden is going to be. He is going to have to kill a lot of people if he wants to protect the people within the walls. It’s a depressing fact for one of the more pure-hearted characters who just wants peace.

I think it’s an excellent presentation how Titan inheritors are connected both physically and emotionally

it's a pretty good summation of all those things tbh. Everything Bert went through can be summed up with "it hurts" tbh

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT CARLA’S SHORT HAIR? 291 Responses

Overall the fandom has neutral responses (33.7%) to the short clip of Carla with short hair, with just a slight edge of people (18.9%) who thought it was a good look on her. 16.2% of responses disliked the short hair.

I answered the Carla hair question with 3 because there is no "I don't care" option

HOW WELL DID THIS EPISODE ADAPT THE CORRESPONDING CHAPTERS? 288 Responses

Respondents felt that WIT did a good job at sticking to the source material again this episode, even though they stretched some scenes out with filler.

The pace was a little long but I really liked the episode's poetry and all the scenes in Shiganshina of the four walking, Hanji and her shadow reflecting next to a flower, Levi and the broken glass, Eren and Mikasa children ... it was very lyrical!

WHAT DID YOU THINK ABOUT THE EXTENDED SCENE OF EREN AND MIKASA WALKING THROUGH SHIGANSHINA? 292 Responses

56.2% of the fandom enjoyed the extended scene of Eren and Mikasa walking through Shiganshina, feeling that it helped to amplify the nostalgia and grief that they felt as they finally revisited their old home. 22.3% felt that the scene had a lot of emotional impact, saying that it tugged at their heartstrings. 11.6% felt the filler wasn’t necessary but still enjoyed it nonetheless.

They just came for my whole entire heart huh

Honestly, it was a little boring to watch,  I want to believe that it was stretched for the sake of that masterpiece of end scene.

It was a lovely and poignant time-killer.

The walk to EM's house was really well done, it took me some tears, and i loved the additional scenes...

Somebody hug these two please and thank you. I thought for a moment they were gonna show us the untouched insides of buildings. But it was indeed pretty good.

THAT SHIT WAS ART!! I got real chills

It was better in the manga. It was badly executed in the anime.

Just seeing Hannes again made it worth it. Also it was a good throwback to episode 1.

It honestly highlighted how terrible the animation was in this episode, because the flashbacks had much higher quality

Literally my favorite part, I think it added a lot of gravity to the situation. Like we know it's their hometown, but the way this was animated really brought you back to where it all started, which also adds weight to the whole, "Oh god, we accomplished our second-biggest goal (getting to the basement) but we're still not finished at all" thing.

The concept of it was fine, and it touched my heart for the first bit of it, but it went on far too long.

HOW DID YOU FEEL FINALLY SEEING MARLEY ANIMATED? 289 Responses

We finally reached the Grisha Files™ and got to see Marley portrayed in the anime! 40.5% of respondents say that it felt incredible to finally see Marley come alive through animation, color and sound, while 38.1% marked it down as a surreal experience. 11.1% simply felt that it was neat.

I love Marley arc, seeing it animated and different vibes of music, and voice acting are very good. Can't wait what they have when marley arc fully animated

Animation was shit. Really disappointed they dropped the ball on animating Marley.

It was my favorite part of this episode. I truly love Faye. She is way cuter in the anime and so innocent. Everything about that moment was perfect.

I really dislike everything that came after the basement so reaching this point was sad for me.

DEAR GOD Y E S—

I could never picture it in my head before, and now I can! Liberio is so grey and sad!

Omg Faye is the cutest thing ever!!! I don't want to see what happend to her, I'm not ready!

I hoped they would save it for the next episode.

I’m not ready to face Marley or Marley arc Eren. Go back. Please go back.

The way they put that whole scene after the ending was weird

I never thought I’d be alive to see the day the beginnings of Marley getting animated; I know the next episodes are going to be perfection :’)

Marley music was 👌

BASED ON THE CAST CREDITS, THE MAN YOUNG GRISHA RAN INTO WAS ACTUALLY XAVER. THOUGHTS? 288 Responses

36.8% of respondents found the confirmation of the glasses man being Xaver to be an interesting detail, while 19.1% believe that this helps to further support the fan theory that Xaver and Kruger were working together all along. 15.6% of the fandom thinks that Xaver being familiar with Grisha since he was a boy makes his actions Zeke all the more disturbing.

How old is Xaver?? If that was him he has to be around 25-30 here. Which would make him 45+ with Zeke.

I believe it was Xaver all this time. It’s good to have a name with the face now.

There's no fucking way he wasn't working with Kruger. This is all connected lads

Just how fucking old is Xaver jfc also he knew grisha by name since childhood wtffff

I thought that was already obvious in the manga?

Nice easter egg, but that's all

The Xaver timeline makes sense, but it's a bit complicated.

The tidbit about Xaver was interesting. When I saw him in the anime it did remind me of Xaver since we've just been introduced to him, but I would never have guessed it was actually him. When you think about it, that day Grisha stumbled upon two people that later really shaped his life and set things into motion in the story. A nice coincidence to think of.

WHICH SCENE FROM THE PREVIEW ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? 289 Responses

It was a close call this time! 40.8% of the fandom are most looking forward to seeing Eren’s reaction to Eren inheriting his father’s memories and figuring out that Dina was the Smiling Titan. 39.4% are excited to see Grisha and Kruger meet for the first time. At a distant third, Grisha and Faye going beyond the wall to see the zeppelin got 10.4% of the vote.

Dogs are cute, Faye is cute. Combine the two, and you're shou tucker.

KRUGER

NEED GRISHA FILES

I'm not ready for Faye's fate !!! ;_;

there's so many things to look forward the next episode, initially I was pondering between the Kruger meeting and Fay's death but eventually I chose Eren's memories because I don't remember that part in the manga.

COMPARED TO THE FEEL OF SEASON 1, HAS THE DIRECTION OF THE STORY MET YOUR EXPECTATIONS? 289 Responses

Nearly 70% of respondents feel that Isayama’s story continues to get better as it goes on. 17% say that it didn’t meet their expectations from season 1, but that it’s not a bad thing at all! 8% are simply still here for the ride, but are still enjoying the series anyway.

I'm one of the apparent minority who actually prefer the tone and content of the story post-basement reveal. I've always cared more about the human aspect of the narrative, and at this point SNK is nothing if not a tale of the human condition, in all its beauty and horror.

Animation wise, I feel like aot peaked with season 2 and they just got lazy or were under a lot of time constraints while making season 3. Other than that, didn’t care for how they handled Uprising and the direction for Shiganshina has felt pretty unoriginal and hallow. I just hope the new studio can adapt the next season with quality that can match season 2 or at least season 1.

I'm ambivalent about it. I preferred the atmosphere of season 1, but I'm still interested in seeing where the story goes. For me the emotional and moral climax of the story happened on the roof in Shignashina though, and I've not been as convinced by what's happened since - so far at least.

Met and exceeded. Thank you isayama.

I will continue watching, but it feels like Isayama is making things up in the fly and doesn’t really have a clear idea of how the storyline is going to work.

This is the peak of the story for me, I look forward to the next seasons because of thar, I want to see if the direction of the anime could make the next arcs more appealing to me

I initially liked the direction in which the manga went but I am finding it hard to like the way the story progressed, and how the original characters are treated, compared to the new ones. I am really disappointed in Isayama's writing at this point, character wise.

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODE?

I love Armin

The animation quality dropped compared to the latest two episodes. The first half of the ep was kinda weird... like the hug, seemed like two different animators did it, because the lineart changes between s1 (thicker lines) and s3 style... Also they didn't do justice to Armin's abs...

Glad I'm a manga reader because this anime reveal was pretty underwhelming.

Imma say it, I didn't like that they showed a tiny snippet of Marley. I would have preferred if they'd ended on the photograph and the words "humanity has not perished". I have anime only friends who watched the Grisha/Faye scene and were like "...I feel like I don't have enough to even chew on right now?" Like it wasn't a punch in the gut like cutting on the photograph would have been, and it wasn't a full-fledged reveal so there isn't enough to go nuts over and debate and hypothesise. I mean it's still really good and I liked the episode, but the way they've sequenced the reveal isn't optimal to me.

I think they took a little too long to get to the basement. I understand why they wanted to, and the walk there was still really well done! But I think it'll now be a little tough to cram all the information they need to if they plan to end the season with chapter 90, which they of course do.

Faye is too adorable, there will be riots next week.

glad we're getting into the GOOD SHIT. give me marley

I love the soundtrack. It feels very different(in a good way) props to Sawano.

Tbh, the animation and pacing felt lacking in this episode, but we got Armin looking both like a Cinnamon bun and an Arman, and I am there for that.

I liked the story more when it was a creepy titan apocalypse instead of, well... this. But it's too late to back out now.

OH MAN, GOTTA LOVE THAT CLOSURE, IT FELT PERFECT WHEN THEY WERE WATCHING THE PHOTO AND THEN THE ENDING SONG STARTS TO ROLL OUT AND THAT POST CREDITS SCENE. JUST PERFECT

The additional material of this episode was really good in my opinion and the OST used on it was a pretty good election too, it fulfilled the purpose of make the viewer felt nostalgic, but the animation in the beggining was really "meh".  And speaking about seeing Marley animated, for me the experience was literally a yelling and a "NO WAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!" I am so excited to see Grisha's backstory in colors! I can finally ear Kruger's voice, see the sunset falls down while Grisha take the photo and accept his mission, while Kruger give to him his final smile. Frankly this is my favorite "mini-story" of the manga, too shocking and enlightening. And to finish this, the appear of Xaver was too misplaced or it is just my idea? the timeline just doesn't fit into the story in my opinion. I think it was just a easter egg or something for the manga readers, I hope so lol.

For a long time I was scared that they were gonna leave out Eren hugging Armin and I'm so glad they didn't. Also the scene where Eren and Mikasa walked through the ruins of Shiganshina made my heart disintegrate. Thanks for amplifying the angst, WIT. 😭

When I read the manga, I remember fearing the idea about this getting animated because this part truly changes the entire story. But I feel that the story is getting better and better and more complex but still the same flare of Isayama Hajime's story telling.

THEY KEPT THE COLOR BLUE FOR MARLEY'S UNIFORMS I'M SO HAPPY

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 269 Responses

Thank you again to everyone who participated. See you again in a few days!

#snk spoilers #snk s3 #snk poll #snk polls #poll results

[beewaggle]

If you're still doing the mini aus: Wash and Caboose AU where one of them is a dragon

“Hey, Church?”

He wasn’t exactly sure how this had become his problem... but... he had adopted a human. 

He seemed to be fully grown, although that was hard to tell (he looked big when placed side by side with other humans). Daevv’id had found him wandering the wastes with no food, shelter, or water to speak of. Some of his kind might have scooped him up for a snack, but he--

It wasn’t that he was fond of humans. They generally caused trouble for him and his kind, but he ... well they were (sort of) intelligent creatures, and they were very good at surviving... maybe he felt a weird kinship in that. 

So rather than eat him, Daevv’id landed.

“OH!” The human looked up. His surprise expression morphed into a giant grin. “Hello! Are you lost?” 

Shouldn’t he be the one asking the human that question? Daevv’id tilted his head to the side.

“I’m lost too,” The human admitted. “My name is Caboose.”

Daevv’id replied with his own name.

“Oh! That’s a lovely name. Wrrawrshiiiingtrrron...uh Rawrshengton? Could you repeat that?” 

He didn’t. Human vocal chord didn’t have the required tension and vibration frequency--nor the ears to hear it properly anyway.

“Maybe Church?” Caboose asked hopefully.

He tilted his head the other way. Well it wasn’t terrible. He gave a dip of the head.

“I like the name Church,” Caboose explained. “He’s a friend of mine I lost. I’m trying to find him.”

In a wasteland? 

He had filled his curiosity, but... leaving him out here in the open for the buzzards... Daevv’id bent down looking at Caboose expectantly.

Caboose, rather than climb on him like he thought he would, patted his snout. “I like your scales. They look grey, but in the light they turn blue. OH! You can join Blue team! Since I am the only one left I get to make all the decisions and you are officially Blue Team now!” 

He nudged Caboose with his snout. 

“Did you want to cuddle? I’m sorry I should really keep going. You can join me though! I like meeting new people, and you are on my Team... so it would make sense to stay together... you’re the rookie so I’ll take care of you.”

You have no supplies and are in the exact middle of the wastes. The fact that Caboose had made it this far was mind boggling. 

Daevv’d stood and carefully wrapped a talon around the human.

“OH! This isn’t how you handshake you knoOOOOOOOW!!!!”

Lifting off the human continued to make screaming noises, but they seemed joyful rather than afraid.

“THIS IS SO NEAT!!”

-

They parted ways after that, but it wasn’t long before he ran into the human again, this time in the freezing mountains.

“CHURCH! Hello again!!” The human’s face was red and he was shaking all over. Daevv’id lifted him up again and few him over the mountains, then quickly started a fire for the human to warm himself by. 

After a few more scenarios like this he concluded the Human was very bad at keeping out of trouble, and the easiest thing to do would be to look after him. He... kind of liked the large smiles, and familiar greetings. His Eyrie had been gone for a long time now... finding a ... companion, even if it was a human eased his heart a bit. Finding him surrounded by bandits he had flapped his wings in annoyance. 

Really!?! There had been signs!!

He reared up and expanded his wings. The bandits dropped their weapons and scrambled to get away. 

“Hi, Church!” 

Caboose seemed more pleased than usual when he didn’t fly away. 

-

“Church?” Caboose repeated. Daevv’id was curled up and a comfortable cluster of rocks, Caboose rested in the middle of his coil. The dragon curved his neck a bit more so that he was facing the human.

“I know that Church, my Church went this way, we just have to keep going, but I don’t want you to feel worried. Church is my best friend, but I’ve decided that maybe all Churchs are my best friend, and since you are a Church you’re my best friend too.”

The dragon snorted affectionately. Friends... Friends with a human...

Yes. That sounded right. 

He dipped his head in agreement. 

-

“Caboose?! WHAT THE FUCK!?!?” The small human (smaller than his human) with the sword brandished it awkwardly. He seemed to be trying to hide behind it though, rather than strike out. It was very bad form... someone should teach him how to use that...

“TUCKER!!” Caboose shouted from his perch on Daevv’id’s back. “HAVE YOU SEEN CHURCH!?”

“WHY ARE YOU ON A DRAGON!?!? WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU EVEN BEEN!?! WHY ARE YOU ON A FUCKING DRAGON!??!?!” 

“THIS IS CHURCH.”

“CHURCH GOT TURNED INTO A DRAGON?”

“NO. THIS IS A DIFFERENT CHURCH.” 

They went on like that for awhile, both were very loud. Humans liked to stand around and shout a lot.

“I’m not calling the dragon Church,” ‘Tucker’ crossed his arms peering up at him distrustfully. “What’s his actual name?”

Daevv’id obliged. 

“Uh... Rwashin-ton? Washington?” 

Well that was certainly closer than Church, although he wasn’t much inclined to make this guy’s life easier. It seemed he didn’t have a choice though.

“Washington it is,” Tucker said. “Okay. So. You have a dragon.”

It was the other way around. He was the one that picked up the human. “Can he like... fight?”

“Washingchurch is very good... and also very scary to people that are mean.” 

Yeah the bandits that tried to rob Caboose certainly thought so.

“So can he like... eat the Reds?”

What are Reds?

Are they delicious?

-

The others would laugh at him if they were around. Imagine, a Lance Dragon adopting a gaggle of humans.

“And you’re sure he’s not going to eat us?” Simmons repeated. All of them were leaning against him taking a break from their travels.

“Wash wouldn’t eat us!” Tucker said reassuringly. Then paused. “As long as Caboose is here.” 

“Right, I’m sitting next to Caboose,” Simmons grumbled.

“He’s pretty comfy for scales,” Grif said relaxing on his tail.

“If the Blues get a Dragon WE should get a dragon!” The one called Sarge had been griping about fairness the entire time. 

“I mean, Caboose seems to be willing to share the Dragon,” Simmons pointed out. 

“We’re not sharing Wash. He’s a teammate. He’s our leader now,” Tucker said.

“Wait what? The Dragon is Blue Leader? Bullshit,” Grif huffed. 

“It’s either him, me or, Caboose, and I don’t want to be leader,” Tucker said smugly. 

“He taught Tucker how to use a sword,” Caboose put in.

“He did--he MIGHT have helped my form a LITTLE bit,” Said Tucker.

“Church is a great leader,” Caboose was on his head grinning down at him. “He always shows up when you don’t have any food, or when you are cold, or when there are mean people...”

“How long was Caboose alone?” Grif asked. 

“Awhile...” Tucker said. “We got separated after that thing took Church.”

“And a dragon just decided to look after him?” Simmons asked. 

‘Wash’ snorted. He was right here. Simmons made an ‘eeping’ sound. The humans continued to talk and argue, and grumble, and Daevv’id--Wash felt... content. 

It wasn’t his old Eyrie... but... they’d do. 

#rvb #red vs blue #caboose rvb #michael j caboose #agent washington #agent washington rvb #blue's micro aus #blue's fics #fanfiction #kineticallyanywhere

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Putting the Cat in Catastrophe Chapter 1 (edited)

Bonjour, mes chers! I’m about to upload chapter two in half an hour or so here, but this is the edited chapter of TCC where I had to edit a few things to make it work better once I finished plotting it all out. Enjoy! Also, a new thing, I’ll be uploading the chapter fully onto tumblr. Neat, huh? 

If you’re a Patron of mine then you can find a link the the old version of the story - and even notes of what I wanted to do! - on my patreon at mjanderson! You can pledge as little as a dollar a month and get access to a bunch of cool things. Go check it out!

Click here to read on FFN Click here to read on AO3

Summary:   Danny Fenton has just escaped from a secret government testing facility and runs straight into Andrew Riter - a busybody librarian who seems to be obsessed with helping a stray black cat - said stray black cat happening to be Danny himself. The Government gets interested when they find out a seemingly ordinary human can shapeshift into different animals. Danny just wants to return to his family and try to find his lost memories, but he's having a hard time doing so when he's finding less and less reasons for leaving Andrew's side. He couldn't tell anyone his secret - not again - but... But why did he want to trust this man so badly? (Iambic Prose) (Shapeshifter Danny AU)

Warning: This story will have references to laboratory testing, mentions of vivisections, blood, wounds, character trauma, and things of a similar sort. Most mentions of such things will be vague, but there will be heavy mentions of it and warnings at the beginning of chapters when it gets explicit.

<<Next Chapter>>

Chapter One

:: 

It could be said that how a person’s day went was largely determined by their mood and their personal worldview. With such an outlook, it would be correct in saying that if you looked upon the day with a cheery smile and attitude, then you would have a happy day no matter what bad things befell you.

Andrew Riter would like nothing more than to punch the face of whoever had said that. Preferably with a knife, but a regular punch and kick to the balls would work just as well, he was certain.

See, Andrew would readily admit that he wasn’t that optimistic of a person - in fact, he was usually downright sour to people and for good reason. He dealt with enough stupidity at work and school, he didn’t need it in his daily life. There was a reason he avoided social contact as best he could. He still did his best to enjoy his days and take them one at a time, of course, but that was very difficult when his day had become a giant shitshow.

It started, as always, when he woke up to nothing but wonderful peace and quiet. That was very bad since it meant his alarm hadn’t gone off. A look to his piece of shit alarm clock had showed he only had an hour to get ready for work. It wasn’t the best, but at least he hadn’t slept through the start of his shift. Which, that was fine. It could have been a still okay day since it meant he got more sleep, but, no.

He quickly found out his depression and anxiety medication were completely empty. Completely as in there was a post-it note reminding him to refill the damn things, but he hadn’t, so screw his past self. The day could have been saved by a good cup of morning coffee and a muffin or two, but his cabinets were dismally empty and the only thing in his refrigerator that wasn’t expired were some eggs and milk. He hated dairy. As for the new bag of coffee he got… He grabbed the wrong one last time he was at the store.

So with a horribly cold shower because the water in his apartment sucked, Andrew had gone out the door and had been five seconds away from a full blown panic attack because of the fucking espresso coffee he bought that existed for the sole reason of people hating themselves. It may not have been as bad if he hadn’t been stopped on the stairwell three times by his neighbors.

Vidya, his sadistic landlord who he was absolutely certain was a witch of some sort due to the fact she always smelled of plants and wore a lot of black and green and had grey hair when she was thirty, had wanted to discuss that month’s rent and was not assured by Andrew telling her - quite often - that his paycheck would be coming in just a few days and could she please stop threatening eviction when she never went through with it? Either commit or don’t, but stop acting like his life wasn’t in her hands, honestly.

He had then been stopped on the second floor by Sam who had spent almost half an hour screaming at him over the ethics of animal testing. Sam was a childhood friend who had ‘coincidentally’ wound up in the same apartment as him and tended to dress on the more vampire side of goth. The black hair fooled no one when the roots were so quick to fade back to blonde. Ugh. She also had this thing about animal testing. Andrew was of the opinion that he didn’t care at all and Sam seemed to think him a monster for not caring about - what even had she been upset about this time? Eyeliner on bunnies? Andrew couldn't care less. Actually, he probably could care less! This was him! Not caring!

Oh and then Tucker. Tucker, another ‘coincidental’ childhood friend and certifiable genius when it came to mechanics and computers and looked like a nerd straight from the 80s or early 90s, had stopped him five feet from the door and spent thirty minutes trying to talk to him about theoretical physics. Andrew was just trying to get his Associate in Arts and then transfer to a nice four-year to study Creative Writing - maybe Journalism if he got curious and or desperate enough. He was not killing himself with a double major in Engineering and Physics or whatever the hell it was Tucker did. Of course, that did nothing to stop the ‘genius’ from talking his ear off. By the time he got outside to his bus stop the bus had been gone for twenty minutes and his shift started in ten. His job was fifteen minutes away by car.

Needless to say, that left Andrew very cranky and running through alleyways and down not so safe streets as he tried to take shortcuts in whatever way he could in order to get to the library he worked at on time. Three minutes of trying to find the right street and proving he had just circled a block and wasted time almost sent him to tears before he heard his phone buzzing with a familiar ringtone.

Taking a breath, and trying not to hysterically laugh at the ‘Werewolves of London’ song he now had playing and couldn’t figure out how to change, Andrew clicked accept call and tried to stay calm. Focused. Peaceful. “Bonjour, grand frère.”

“What did you do and what do I need to fix?” Rude. Randy had called him, thank you very much. “Andy, you only call me that when you want something or you’re about to have a nervous breakdown. Are you about to have a nervous breakdown- Shit, you took your meds this morning, didn’t you?” Dammit.

“I’m not screwed up enough to forget my meds, thanks.” How did his brother always manage to call right when he was feeling at his worst or when he ran out of his pills? He was pretty sure the man had him bugged. It wouldn’t surprise him. He took overprotective to whole new levels. “Why did you call me?”

“Lunch!” Oh. It was one of their lunch days, wasn’t it? “Our lunch breaks should align today, so I figured we could meet up at our usual place around then?” It was ridiculous that Andrew could hear the ‘are you okay’ hidden in those words.

“Lunch sounds fine.” Randy was annoying, but he had this ridiculous way of making Andrew find a reason to not just curl into a ball and never wake up. He also made Andrew feel better about his own wreck of a life considering the messes he got himself into. “You’re paying, Mr. $82,000 a year.”

“Hey, I’m not that good of a vet yet and I’m still paying off student loan debts!” Feeling a small smile on his face, Andrew sighed softly. Randy somehow always made it okay again. He would die before telling that to his face, of course, but still. “I’ll meet you in a few hours. Try not to get lost in your books, Andy.”

“Try not to flirt with the owners of your patients, Randy.” Honestly, his decision to become a veterinarian had come out of left field, but Andrew couldn’t deny he did a good job. “Especially that one you’re so fond of. Now, what was his name… It started with an N?”

“Bye, love you, gotta go!” The call disconnected and Andrew gave in to the urge to laugh. Seeing the time, his laugh quickly fell and, right, he should at least call in to let the library know he was going to be a little bit late. Of course - of course - he got four rings in before his phone died. Because apparently his phone hadn’t charged from the night before even though Andrew had unplugged it this morning.

And as if the gods had somehow heard of his day and decided he needed to suffer even more, the clouds above him rumbled with the menacing beats of thunder and lightning cracked against the sky like a jagged edge of a wound. It took only a second for Andrew to realize he was fucked and two for the rain to begin falling.

Within fifteen minutes he was late, soaked, and felt as if he had offended some minor deity over something or other - or maybe it was Vidya making him suffer for being behind on his rent. Mm. Maybe he had broken a mirror or spilled some salt, actually. That sounded like his kind of luck. Heh. Maybe it was divine punishment. He obviously hadn’t suffered enough for what he had done, right?

By the time he got to the library he was pretty sure his clothes were ruined and he would never be dry again. At least he could get inside and clean up in the bathroom before sitting himself right over a heating vent and sorting books. It was a nice, quiet library and it was raining like it wouldn’t stop for forty days. He was sure the owner wouldn’t mind. In fact, he could even… He… He could stare at the locked doors and dark windows.

Gaze caught on the white notice posted to the main door, Andrew could only stare, utterly speechless. It was Memorial Day. They were closed on Memorial Day. Andrew had just walked for what was probably close to thirty minutes in the rain and… And… At least he wasn’t late. That was great. That was fucking fantastic.

Shoving a hand in his bag to see if he had some magical solution that would fix all of his problems, Andrew stared at the purple umbrella that came out and began mocking him at once. He stared for what felt like an eternity before he clicked the button and ducked into the alleyway. Sitting down on a set of side steps that led to an unstable backdoor, Andrew propped the umbrella up over him and stared at the red brick wall across from him.

It wasn’t even noon, yet, and his day was completely ruined and shot all to hell. The worst part was that this wasn’t even the first time this had happened - maybe the exact circumstances were, but getting screwed over by life? No, no, Andrew was very familiar with getting screwed over.

Glasses fogged up, breath still short from his running, and soaked through to the bone, Andrew could only bury his face into his hands and make a noise that he hoped was closer to a groan than a sob. It was always like this. Life built up to where he couldn’t handle the strain, everything came crashing down around him, and he shattered. Eventually he would put himself back together, but it kept feeling like it was harder and harder to be able to do that.

A clash of thunder and lightning and gust of wind had him trying to bite down another sob/groan. Of all the things he expected to happen next in his life, it wasn’t to hear an answering hiss to his own pathetic noise.

Head jerking up, Andrew stared down at the pathetic scrap of fur that sat in front of him, just as soaked and just as pissed as he felt himself - although the scrap of fur looked to be as broken as Andrew probably looked. Staring for a moment, Andrew huffed and looked at the black cat with a wry smile, “Bonjour, chat noir. Are you the cause of my bad luck today, then?”

At least animals didn’t judge you for speaking French first instead of English, he mused. Sighing, Andrew fixed his glasses, trying to see. He had given up wiping them off after the first few minutes of the rain storm. “Would you like to add to today’s woes, then? I’m sure there’s nothing else you can do to me, at this point, but you’re welcome to try.”

There was a rumbling little growl that sounded utterly pathetic, Andrew huffing out a laugh as he stared at the mangy thing. No doubt the cat was covered with fleas, ticks, and other unsavory bugs. The ribs poking out showed he hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks - maybe months. Poor thing probably wouldn’t make it through the night.

Tilting his umbrella forward, Andrew propped his cheek up on his hand - elbow balanced on his knee - as the fabric kept anymore rainwater from getting on the cat. “There you go. Might as well. Not like I can get much more wet myself.” The rain was freezing as hell, of course, so Andrew was being a complete idiot by doing this for a cat that looked ready to claw his eyes out. Ugh. Why did he have to pity small, tiny things?

The cat grumbled and stared at Andrew hard before leaning forward and giving as quick a headbutt to Andrew’s leg as he could, Andrew amused to see that the cat looked disgruntled at even that much. “You’ve had a very hard life, haven’t you?” The meow sounded like utter, sarcastic agreement. Maybe Andrew was projecting. “I know what that’s like, petit chaton. Would you like to hear about my cursed day?”

So, of course, Andrew spent the next however long telling a cat about how terrible his day had been. The cat seemed to be an attentive audience, at least, nodding along and making little rumbling noises close to a purr as he said something particularly witty. Andrew wasn’t sure if that was meant to be amusement or a reprimand- A cat. He was projecting emotions onto a cat. He had fallen far, hadn’t he?

“I imagine your story is much more interesting, though.” Andrew stared down at the mangy little stray, the cat staring back up at him before jumping up into his lap. Andrew scrambled to keep the thing from falling and not dropping the umbrella, calming his racing pulse down. “A warning would have been nice, you know.”

The cat meowed with what sounded like derision, Andrew huffing and ready to argue before going utterly still and silent as bright blue eyes caught onto him own. “I didn’t know black cats had such bright eyes.” The cat only settled down tiredly, looking utterly exhausted, but those eyes… No. No, it had been years and it was time to get over it. Happy endings like those in his books didn’t exist in this world. The sooner he realized that days like this one were the norm, the better off he would be. After all, you couldn’t get disappointed when you expected the worst, right?

But, still. Andrew couldn’t stop himself from threading his fingers through the small creature’s fur, the threat of tears starting to fade. The fur was rather soft even with the rainwater that drenched them. Actually the storm was starting to lessen into a drizzle.

Leaning back against the unstable backdoor, Andrew sighed and closed his eyes, biting his lip as his fingers tightened on the fur. Black fur with blue eyes. That… “You know, I like to think that black cats are actually lucky.” It wasn’t possible - it wasn’t - but… It wouldn’t hurt him anymore to keep hoping, right?

Just one last time.

#danny phantom #putting the cat in catastrophe #tcc au #iambic prose #ghostwriter #my writing

[the-chubbiest-dumpling]

Bad Day

Summary: You asked Sebastian to go over some lines with you, but you don’t show up at the designated meeting place. When he finds you unable to get out of bed, he takes it upon himself to brighten up your day.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 6650

Warnings: Swearing. Crying. Vulnerability.

You’ve known Sebastian for a while now.

You first worked with him in The Covenant, starring as one of the main protagonists, Sarah Wenham. Though you two didn’t interact much in the film, you got the chance to work closer with him on the show Kings as the role of his sister, Michelle Benjamin. From the beginning you could tell he was a very serious actor that loved what he did. You heard that he got the role of Chase Collins by videotaping himself in his kitchen, performing the scene where he goes to the Dean’s office to speak with him. You, on the other hand, auditioned in person like a bunch of other girls, and eventually got the role. Sebastian got the job on the spot. And when you worked with him on both projects, you were blown away by his acting, and his kindness.

You developed feelings for him in no time.

The third time you worked together was on the set of Gossip Girl. You managed to land the main role of Serena van der Woodsen, the lead protagonist, while he Carter Baizen. You were both happy to see each other, and caught up during set breaks and off-set as well. You were also super excited to find out that he’d be playing your boyfriend for some time, and to be able to kiss him. You really hoped that he couldn’t tell how happy you were about it, though you were bashful at times when you knew he couldn’t see you. He was overjoyed to be working with you again, and expressed it the very day he arrived on set, with a giant hug.

That smile will always punch you in the gut.

Over the years, you continued to send your congratulations of his achievements via text after exchanging numbers. From landing the role of Bucky Barnes in the MCU, to T.J. Hammond in Political Animals, to his iconic role of Lance Tucker in The Bronze (to which you couldn’t stop laughing), and to his most recent role of Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya. You always complimented his acting abilities, especially when it came to expressing emotions in a subtle way. He paid the compliments back with some of his own, his favourite being how you go in and out of a role so fluently. And how your ridiculous shenanigans on set made him laugh.

Seeing him grow up and being able to even know him has been a privilege. You have no idea how he’s him. He’s so caring and generous and kind and funny and heart-warming and so incredibly talented. And handsome, of course. Can’t leave that bit out. You have different work schedules, so you don’t see him as often as you’d like, but you still text from time to time.

This is one of those times.

Two days prior, you had asked him to go over some lines with you. You had gotten your script a week ago, and reading them by yourself at home just wasn’t cutting it. It was lacklustre compared to doing it with your co-star and director present. And since neither of them were available to help you, you called up Sebastian and asked for his help. He readily agreed, and promised to meet you at a private coffee shop in the city to go over them with you. Today is the day you two confirmed to meet, at the designated time and place, but you’re not there.

In fact, you’re not even awake.

Your week began slow and steady, with an overall jaded mood. You didn’t know what was dragging you down. You felt fine for the most part, but as the week progressed, your mood decreased and you became agitated and stressed. You ate less, and became exasperated from doing simple tasks, like cleaning and doing laundry. You just didn’t have the energy for it.

It’s just one of those days, you had told yourself. But it felt like more than just having a crappy day.

Today just happens to be the worst of it.

You first woke up at nine o’clock in the morning after going to sleep at three the previous night. That was a regular thing for you: going to bed especially late and waking up in the afternoon. You got up to go to the bathroom, got something to drink, then went straight back to sleep. The next time you woke up was at two in the afternoon. The room was darkened as much as possible, but the sun still shone through your blinds annoyingly. You looked at the time, and sighed. You didn’t know what was wrong. You just didn’t want to do anything today. The only thing you were willing to do was sleep.

And sleep you did.

You manage to fall asleep for another two hours before waking up in a haze. You thought you had slept right into the next day, but it was only four in the afternoon. Even opening your eyes feels like a task you cannot complete. They burn from sleeping so much, and from rubbing them every so often. You stretch your arms and legs, but otherwise stay curled up in your nice, comfy, warm blankets.

However, you decide it’s finally time to wake up. But not get out of bed. You unplug your phone from the charger, and instantly groan from seeing all your notifications. Your phone was on silent the entire time, so you heard none of the phone calls, nor the worried texts that Sebastian made. You feel incredibly guilty for making him worry, but one look at his texts throws it out the window.

He’s on his way over.

Like, right now.

The most recent text was made thirty minutes ago, approximately the amount of time it takes to get from the coffee shop to your apartment. You grunt in frustration and drop your phone down beside you, and wipe your hands down your face.

“God damn it,” you hiss.

Sometimes you hate how worrisome he can be.

You live on the thirteenth floor of a twenty-story complex, giving you no time to clean up before Sebastian walks through the door. Your place is a mess, with dishes in the sink, clothes strewn on the floor, leftovers discarded on the counter, and abandoned laundry baskets left by the washing machine. You’re usually not such a slob, but these past few days have taken a toll on your mind. Since nobody really visits, there wasn’t much reason to do any of those chores. But now that Sebastian is on his way, you wish you could’ve just gotten off your ass and done it when it needed to be done.

Sighing angrily, you grip the sheets and pull them up to your chin, tuck your knees up, then close your eyes once more. You’re not going back to sleep, but a little eye rest will do you good before facing Sebastian. Seeing your messy apartment is one thing, but seeing you trapped in your bed and unwilling to get up is even more embarrassing. You have no idea what to say to him when he walks through the door.

Shit.

For reasons unknown, you left your door unlocked last night, which is completely out of character for you. You don’t live in a sketchy part of town, and you have nice neighbours, so there’s no real threat, but you’re nothing if not careful. Your carelessness scares you a little.

And no more than five minutes later, you hear a knock at the door, and the familiar, smooth voice you’ve come to love.

“_______?” Sebastian calls. “You in there?”

Even if you did raise your voice to confirm your presence, he probably wouldn’t even hear you. And let’s not forget the fact that you don’t even want him to be here. Well, be here and see you in this state. You’d rather him not see just how horrible of a week you’re having.

“_______?” he knocks again. When he doesn’t hear an answer, he grabs the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”

You hear the door click open, then pretend to be asleep in hopes that he’ll go away. But you know that won’t happen.

Sebastian haphazardly steps through your apartment, and takes note of how unkempt it is compared to his previous visits. He seemingly notices every little thing that’s wrong. It doesn’t feel right to him. He knows you like to keep your place neat and tidy for your own sake and that of visitors. He’s seen it a little bit messy, but not this much. There’s a certain smell to the air (that you’re the least bit proud of), and he finds the source in the kitchen. Dirty dishes and leftovers sitting on the counter. He puts his hands on his hips and pulls his lips to the side.

This doesn’t feel right.

“_______?” he calls out again, heading for your bedroom. The door is closed, so he quietly pries it open and peeks inside. It’s dark, but light enough for him to see you laying there, perfectly still, your shoulder moving the sheets up and down in time with your breathing. He says your name quieter this time, but you don’t give him a response. You bite your bottom lip and pray for him to go away, but he only comes closer.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently shoving your shoulder. He kneels down as you turn over on your side, with your eyes still closed. Knowing that you can’t keep up the charade anymore, you slowly open your eyes, and see his concerned eyes staring into you.

At first you act confused as to why he’s just waltzed into your apartment uninvited, but decide that that’s not the best route to go. You don’t want to yell at him; in fact, you don’t want to speak to him at all. It’s too taxing. So instead, you blink several times to get the sleep out of your eyes, and clutch the blankets.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks, tilting his head. “You didn’t meet me today. I called you and sent some texts, but you never answered. Are you sick?”

Mentally, yes.

You shift your eyes to the left, avoiding his gaze. You have no idea what to say. You’re not just about to start blubbering about every little thing that’s wrong. Letting Sebastian see into your mind and how fucked up it is is not how you want this visit to go. So, being a “physical speaker”, you speak to him with your body.

You shrug your shoulders, and dart your eyes all over the floorboards when you can see his worried expression from your peripherals.

“Did something happen?” he asks, wanting to get to the bottom of this. He’s not mad that you didn’t meet up with him; he just wants to know if you’re okay.

You shake your head no, so he thinks of another reason why you’re laying in bed at four in the afternoon.

He goes the logical route.

“Bad day?”

You nod once, then pull the covers up higher to shield your mouth and nose. But the eyes are one of the biggest dead giveaways when you’re trying to hide the pain behind them.

“Have you eaten today?”

You shake your head.

“You need to eat something, _______,” he says gently. “Come on. I’ll make you something.”

He stands up and begs you to come with him, but you stay huddled up in your blanket cocoon. On a much better day you’d gladly sit in the kitchen and watch him cook you something to eat. But your mind and body is just not having it. You can tell by the look in his eyes that he really wants to see you get out of that bed. But you can’t. You just can’t do it.

Sighing, Sebastian comes back and crouches down beside you.

“I know it’s hard,” he starts softly. You dare to look him in the eyes. And when you do, you can’t look away. “I know that it feels like a chore to get up and walk, to eat, and to even speak. And that’s okay. But you can’t neglect yourself, _______. Otherwise you’re just going to be even more miserable than you already are. It might be a shitty time, but it’ll pass. Sometimes not as quick as you want it to be, and not always in the way you want, but with the right amount of care and patience, it’ll be alright in the end. So please, for me, can you come with me?”

He’s being so sweet and sincere, and here you are, being an asshole by not meeting him and making him come all the way to your place for nothing. You feel like he’s wasting his time by trying to get you to stand up and eat and probably shower. He hasn’t said it, but you know he can smell it. You’re so embarrassed by everything that you have to stop yourself from crying. You blink rapidly, and from being this close to him, Sebastian definitely notices.

“Listen,” he says. “I’m gonna draw you a bath. Make sure to use it before it gets cold.” He chuckles, which in turn makes you smile the tiniest bit. “While you do that, I’ll make you some late lunch. Okay?”

You can’t refuse him, so you nod. He nods back, then stands up again and takes his leave, keeping the door open. You hear him turn on the water, and even plugging the drain. You hate, but love that he’s doing this. It really means something when you know that someone genuinely cares. And that fact is enough to make you emotional.

You stretch once more, but still don’t have the strength to toss the blankets away. It’s too warm, and you’re too comfortable. But having a bath is probably–definitely–what you need. You trust that the bath will be warm, so closing your eyes tightly, you kick your covers to the end of the bed, and shudder from being exposed to the chilly air. Step One done. Now comes the hard part.

Getting out of bed.

Slowly, but surely, you drag one of your legs closer to the edge of the bed before letting it fall to the floor. You do the same with the other, and soon enough, you’re halfway there. But then you stop.

That’s enough progress for one day.

You’re stuck in that position for a minute before Sebastian comes back to retrieve you. When he sees half your body hanging off the bed, he has to smile. You look so ridiculous, but he has to be somewhat serious about it. He’s here to make you feel better, not make fun.

“Come on,” he says, walking up to you. “You’re almost there. You can make it.”

He brings his hands forward and grasps yours. You squeeze loosely, but no matter the grip, Sebastian pulls you to your feet. You stand upright instead of just falling back on your bed, for his sake. He really is trying to help, so you might as well comply to his efforts.

He keeps hold of one of your hands as he brings you into the bathroom, your bath drawn and ready. He even dropped in one of your bath bombs to make it seem more inviting. There’s even a towel set aside, as well.

“You stay in here as long as you need,” he says. “And when you’re done, I’ll have something ready for you to eat when you come back out. Sound good?”

You still can’t find your voice, so you just nod again. Sebastian doesn’t mind. He does hope that he’ll hear your voice at least once during this time with you. But for now, he’ll leave you be.

“And promise that you won’t fall asleep again?”

You nod.

“Thank you.”

He gives a quick kiss to your head before closing the door behind him to tend to his other duties. You allow yourself a small smile, because his beard tickled your forehead. You look down, and stare longingly at the bluish-green bathtub. You might as well. It’ll be good for your body, and for your mind. And to settle some of Sebastian’s nerves.

You strip down and gingerly step into the tub, sighing loudly as soon as you submerge yourself in the warm water. The bath bomb is Lush’s The Big Sleep, which gives off a calming, woodsy lavender scent. Lavender is an herb that aids in sleeping, but you don’t plan on sleeping any time soon. Not while Sebastian is still here.

You soak yourself for about half an hour. During that time, you periodically heard Sebastian rummaging around in your kitchen. Cooking or cleaning, you don’t know. But just being able to hear him in your home is enough to keep you at ease. Better him than anyone else, in fact. He hasn’t judged you for anything. Not the state of your apartment, nor yourself. He’s completely understanding, and knows where you’re coming from. It saddens you to think that Sebastian might have had days where he didn’t want to do anything either, and that’s why he can relate.

You’re definitely going to pay back the favour if that moment ever presents itself.

After thirty more minutes, the water has gone cold, and you’ve had a thorough rinsing. You dip your head under once more before standing up and wrapping yourself in the towel Sebastian laid out for you. You sadly unplug the drain and watch the colourful water disappear until it’s all gone.

You honestly feel better after that, and even feel more awake.

You smell something mouth-watering from the kitchen. Whatever Sebastian’s making, even if you don’t like it, you’re going to shove it down your throat because he took the time and energy to do so. You squeeze the water from your hair and shake it, then firmly tuck in the end of the towel and quietly emerge from the bathroom.

You peek behind the wall, and see him making something in a pan. His jacket hangs on one of the bar stools, and he’s removed his shoes as well. He’s made himself at home, to which you don’t mind at all. It’s refreshing to see him do common, everyday things. Not wanting to disturb him or draw attention to yourself, to skip back to your room and kick the door shut. Sebastian manages to catch a glimpse of your back before you disappear behind your door, making him smile.

You take your time getting changed, even though you eventually settle on wearing sweats and a plain grey V-neck. You put your hair up to dry, squeezing out the last of the droplets and discarding the towel on the floor. You look at yourself in the mirror, pulling your lips to the side. You’re feeling better, but you don’t know if you’re in the mood to talk yet. Perhaps an affirmative grunt or a sigh or maybe even a laugh. Either way, you’ll know when you join Sebastian in the kitchen.

You decide to throw on a hoodie before leaving your bedroom again. You tiptoe into the kitchen, and muster a weak smile when Sebastian looks up and smiles at you. You sit down on a bar stool and cross your arms on the counter, setting your chin on top of them.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you hum quietly. It seems he spent most of his time cleaning up, since the floors and counters have been cleared off, and all the dishes have been done. It’s extremely inconvenient to not have a dishwasher, but one of these days you’ll buy one. For now, you’re your own dishwasher.

You cast your eyes downward, avoiding any kind of visual contact with him. You love looking at him, but not when you’re feeling so awful. He takes notice of your crestfallen expression, and hopes to god that the tips he looked up about what to do when your friend is depressed alleviates some of your pain.

“I’m making chicken and shrimp stir fry,” he says after a moment of silence, showing you the pan. “I hope you like it.”

You glance up at the pan, then to his eyes, then back down at the counter. His expression falls a bit from your lack of reaction, but he’s not going to stop trying. Baby steps is better than trying to push everything on you all at once. Small chit-chat is fine with him; just as long as he can get the message across that he’s here for you.

He throws in some teriyaki sauce into the pan, mixes it around a little, then turns off the stove and begins plating. You hate it being so quiet, but you have nothing to say to him. You would if you could think of something intelligent or funny, but your feel as if your mood has gotten worse. Despite the bath waking you up, your mind is not at ease. It has its good days, but today is one of the foulest ones.

While you’re lost in thought, Sebastian places your plate in front of you, setting a fork down beside it. The clank of glass to marble makes you jolt upright in a fright. It really worries Sebastian when you seem jumpy; and he hopes it’s not for the reason he’s thinking of.

“C’mere,” he says, picking up his plate. “Let’s sit over there.”

He motions to your Lovesac–The Big One–by the window. You peer over your shoulder at it, then back to him. He’s smiling that soft, sweet smile. The one you can never resist. You know you’ll love sitting beside him on a big fluffy bean bag chair and eating food he made for you, so you gather your plate and fork and follow him to the chair. You sit down first, and balance your plate on your leg as Sebastian carefully sits down next to you. You can’t even look at him, not even when he’s this close to you. Then again, when the proximity is nearly face-to-face, it’s hard not to feel just the slightest bit uncomfortable.

You eat in silence, as both of you expected. Sebastian is incredibly patient, as he’s always been. And very observant. How slow you eat, how quiet you are, how you’re not willing to even glimpse at him; he doesn’t want to be hurt by the fact you don’t trust him enough to talk about whatever is bringing you down, but he knows it’s not that easy. It’s much more complex than that.

After finishing his lunch, he gets up to wash his plate and put it back in the cupboard. When he turns around, you’ve finished as well, so he takes it upon himself to do the same. He takes your plate, washes it, then stores it before flopping down next to you again. You tuck your knees up higher, and play with the end of your sleeves. Sebastian supports his cheek in his palm, and stares down at you sadly. He has no idea if one of his “accidental pep talks” would help you any, but he’s going to try anyhow. It pains him to see you not smiling; and if he can get you to smile genuinely before he leaves, then his job is done.

“I’m here for you, _______, I hope you know that,” he begins softly. He knows you’re listening when you stop playing with your sweater. “Good day, bad day, doesn’t matter. Whatever you want, or need to talk about. I’m here for ya, okay? You don’t have to say anything, and that’s perfectly okay. I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this. You can trust me.”

Your eyes well up with tears when he starts being sentimental. You’re not used to hearing these sort things in real life. In movies mostly, some you even acted out yourself. And even then it was difficult to hear. You don’t know why you can’t just accept help when it’s being offered to you. But you’ve managed to come up with a handful of reasons:

1. You don’t want help unless it’s too late 2. You don’t look/seem mentally ill enough to be offered help 3. You like the attention because you felt unimportant/left out by many people in your life in the past and present, but don’t take the advice 4. You think you don’t deserve it

The main reason is probably–

All of them.

You know how incredibly honest and kind Sebastian is, and you truly appreciate those aspects of his personality. But when the person you’re pining for says those things to you while you’re extremely vulnerable is a nightmare. You never wanted him to see this side of you. Others have, but you’d be damned if he ever saw it. And now, after years of knowing each other and working together, it has finally come to light.

The tears slide down your cheeks, and you hastily wipe them away. Your lip quivers, so you bite down hardly on it. Sebastian wraps his arm around you when you begin to become distraught. He feels bad for making you cry, but he had to let you know. Assuring someone that you’re there for them is one of the most important things someone can do for another. And Sebastian always makes sure that he’s there for the people he cares about.

He’s about to begin another tangent, but you cut him off.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you confess, your voice thick. You keep wiping your eyes as you speak, as the tears just keep on coming. “I felt fine at the beginning of the week. I was feeling great, even. And then I just… didn’t. I dunno if it was the people or my surroundings or what I had to do or I was anxious about everything and nothing or it was everything at once. All I know is that I just got so fucking tired and lost all my energy and motivation. I didn’t wanna get up, didn’t wanna do anything productive, and apparently, didn’t wanna go over my fucking lines with you. I’m so shitty that I couldn’t even text you back when I woke up the second time, or at all. And I was being rude to you earlier by not answering you.

Everything is just so overwhelming all of a sudden and I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself! My friend almost died the other day and I forgot to pay my rent and I don’t know if I did the right thing with agreeing to be on this new show and I’m going to fucking explode because it seems like life suddenly hates me! I try to put on a good front and wait until I’m by myself to just fucking cry about it, but it’s getting harder and harder to hide it and I’m scared that no one will shut up about this side of me!”

Your throat completely closes up so you can’t speak anymore. You’re a sobbing mess now, and shove your face in your hands so you can cry your heart out without him seeing. The sound of you squealing from crying so hard breaks his heart. He pulls you to his chest and rubs your arm as he attempts to comfort you.

“A lot of life is a struggle, _______,” he begins. “We just don’t see it all the time because our eyes are always trained to look for ‘happy things’, but life is always a struggle with beautiful moments in-between. We have to keep going. That’s all there is. And most of those beautiful moments, at the end of the day, are pretty simple. Good company with people that get you. Or being proud of a goal maybe you set for yourself. Anxiety is just part of our past. It’s always gonna be there as long as we are human because a long time ago it protected us. But now it’s like having an old alarm clock that still goes off even though you may not need it anymore. But everyone has it. Go forth, go forward. Take a few breaths and onwards we go. There’s nothing more heroic in the world than that.”

This time, his pep-talk isn’t accidental. He becomes the most heart-felt person when he sees a friend in some kind of peril. Despite that, he hasn’t had the chance to do it in person most of the time. A lot of the time has been on Instagram, and small snippets during interviews. He’s hugged a fan or two at a Con where they couldn't get through a question for him, but he never had enough time to hear a full-length explanation about why they’re having a bad day. Doing this with you right now it making him feel all sorts of things: pride, empathy, determination, love… he really wants to get through to you, and help you see the bright side on things.

But again, he knows–amongst other things–that not every person wants to feel happy during a time of great vulnerability. Preaching to you won’t help you any if you won’t take his advice. Do or don’t, Sebastian will still be there.

He physically feels you calm down, and hears that you’re full-blown sobbing has dwindled down to sniffling and light crying. You’re definitely not ready to talk yet, so Sebastian keeps ranting in what he hopes is the best way possible.

“And you know what? No matter what just be yourself. That’s it. Just be you. Whatever you feel walking into the room you feel. That’s your truth. Don’t deny it. Don’t fight it. If you’re nervous, you’re nervous. If you’re scared, you’re scared. Don’t try to change how you feel on the day. Embrace it. Mike Nichols said ‘bring your day to the stage’, meaning you bring what you’re going through that day to the work. Even if you’re nervous once you embrace it and go ‘this is me right now and that’s that; they don’t like it, well then, they don’t like honesty’ then you will relax into it. We spend too much time bullying ourselves trying to be other things. Be who you are. Own it. It’s okay to give yourself some love once in a while. Be kind to yourself as you would be to a friend in need.”

What you honestly can’t believe is all the sap that’s coming out of his mouth. You know he can be incredibly encouraging sometimes but this is just… wow. You didn’t know know that people could be capable of such perception and understanding. It blows you away, actually, that Sebastian took the time to say all of that to you in hopes that it would make you feel better. You appreciate his efforts. You manage to stop crying completely and just sniffle. Your throat is raw, and you’re sure you’ll need some Vics and pain killers, but you feel ten times better after having a big cry. Your head hurts a little, but other than that and your throat, you feel okay.

“You’re pretty fucking unpredictable, you know that?” you chuckle, wiping your eyes. You finally relax after being so tense, and avoid looking him in the eyes still. You’re not ready for that just yet. He smiles down at you, happy that he got something out of you.

“I try,” he laughs. He continues to rub your arm, and patiently waits for you to give him some sort of recognition to his words, but when he doesn’t get it, he decides to throw in another point.

“I have a therapist,” he says, which seems to grab your attention. You glance up at him once before staring back at his legs. “You can see him if you want. Or I could help you find one, if you’d like. I don't wanna shove this down your throat, but my offer will always stand.”

“I see,” you say. “…now I know where you get all your astounding advice from.”

“Yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get a lot of good guidance from him, but I throw in my own thoughts and opinions as well. Whenever I see people going through a bad time, I can’t help but just reach out to them and see if I’ll be of any use. And it makes me feel great about myself when I find out that I am. Making a difference in people’s lives is something that I’ve always wanted to do. And it’s very fulfilling to know that I am.”

Finally, you have the strength to sit up and face him. You wipe your eyes once more before looking into his eyes.

Bad mistake.

He’s got a mix of puppy-dog eyes and smiling like you’re the most important thing in the world. You’ve lost your voice, and your thoughts are scattered, but after clearing your throat and looking away from him, you manage to think of a response.

“I, uh. Um. T-Thank you for um. A-All of that. I don’t know what to say other than that I’ll… think about it.”

“That’s quite okay with me,” he smiles. “But can you promise me something?”

“I guess…”

“When you’re having a bad day, like today, will you come talk to me about it? You can text me, call me, meet in person. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll always be around. And I promise you that you won’t be inconveniencing me. Above all else, taking care of yourself comes first. Say you have an illness and cannot come in. You matter, _______. And you hurt yourself by neglecting your health. So please, please, talk to me when you need to.”

You can’t push him away when he’s being this sincere. But you don’t want to push him away anyhow. How can you? You love him to death; closing him out of your life would benefit neither of you. Smiling, you nod your head.

“Okay,” you agree. “I will. Thanks, again. I–I can’t–“

You cut yourself off because you begin cry-laughing. You rub your eyes and laugh to shake off the new feeling inside you. Sebastian smiles widely when he finally hears the laugh he’s been waiting to hear. You look away from being embarrassed, but Sebastian just grabs hold of you and squeezes you into a giant hug. You squeal happily this time and hide your face again because he’s being so adorable.

“Sebastiaaan!” you whine.

His arms are so strong.

He loosens his grip, causing you to go lay across his lap. You nuzzle your face in the soft warmth of your Lovesac, then peek over your shoulder. He has his head back, and is giving you the biggest, toothiest grin. You can’t help but smile back just as widely.

God I love him.

You shift around so you’re sitting with your legs in his lap. You cross your arms and lay your head to the side. The way you look at him is like he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And he is, he really is. Your eyes become heavy, but you blink rapidly to keep them open.

“I’m okay,” you say before he gets the chance to poke fun at you. “I’m awake. I’m alright.”

“Nah, I wasn’t gonna say anything like that,” he says.

“Then what?”

“You look cute when you’re cozy.”

You smush your face into the fur and pull your hood over your head to hide your flushed cheeks. He grins proudly to himself and pats your legs to get your attention. You don’t want to look, but you pull your hood to the side slightly.

“What if I stay here for the night, hmm?” he suggests. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m a lover of pizza and movies.”

You pull your hood away and cock your head to the side. He’s serious? He sounds serious. And he wouldn’t be smiling like that if he wasn’t. Biting your lip, you knit your brows together as you think. He’s just cleaned your apartment, made you some late lunch, and boosted some confidence in yourself. Plus, he made the trip all the way to the coffee shop, then to your apartment. It’d be rude to kick him to the curb. You smile softly at him.

“Alright,” you say. “You can stay.”

“Sounds good.”

For the entirety of the night, Sebastian is nothing but a bundle of laughs. When you can, you stare at him for as long as possible. You’ve fallen in love with every part of him; his face, his personality, his charm, his talents, his inspiration. From the first time you met, you already lost to him. Everything about him is so inviting and appealing; no one would be able to resist him. And as far as you know, no one has.

He’s still his useful, goofy self, and takes every opportunity to make you laugh. Making fun of the movie, telling a joke, eating his food weirdly, and even a funny story he has about his own personal life and things of the past. Anything to see you having a good time. Everyone has their bad days, and sometimes they need them, but Sebastian decided to cut that short. If he’s crossed a line and you actually wanted to be alone, then he’ll apologize profusely and leave right after. But so far, you’ve given no indication of that desire.

As the night comes to a close and you begin yawning and rubbing your eyes, Sebastian begins to turn everything off. He stores the leftover pizza in your microwave and helps you to your feet. But before you go to bed, you turn to face him.

“I really appreciate this, Sebastian,” you say. “I honestly didn’t mean to get that upset, but it just washed over me. So… thank you, once again, for making me feel better. I know it’s not exactly what you wanted to do today, and I’m sorry for that but… it means a lot to me. What you said. And I still can’t thank you enough for–“

Sebastian cuts you off by pulling you in for a hug. You’re a little dumbfounded at first, but you quickly relax into his embrace and wrap your arms around him. He strokes your hair and rubs your back while gently swaying back and forth.

“That’s enough of that, _______,” he says. “I’m always here for you, remember? For the good and the bad. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you,” you mumble into his chest. You close your eyes and breathe him in, smiling all the while. The hug lasts for a relatively long time, but it still feels too early when you pull away from each other. You both smile, and he ruffles your hair before sending you off to bed.

“Want me to be an alarm?” he asks as you walk away.

You stop as you grab the doorknob and look over your shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you say. “Feel free to use the big ass bean bag chair as a bed. But I have a guest room if you’d prefer that.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the chair,” he confesses. “But thanks anyway.”

“Alrighty, then. Goodnight, Sebastian.”

“Goodnight, _______.”

The moment you enter your room and close the door, Sebastian waltzes over to the Lovesac and grabs a blanket from the couch. He steps out of his pants and jumps down on the chair, pulling the blanket close.

He feels so euphoric from being able to get your mind off things, and he wants to feel that way more often. He stares longingly at your bedroom door, and whispers a personal goodnight of his own before falling asleep.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fic #sebastian fic #sebastian stan #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #tj hammond #chris beck #jack benjamin #jeff gillooly #bad day #depression #mood swings #crying #comfort #vulernable #sad #seb stan #maywrites

[surveysonfleek]

535.

5000 Questions Survey Pt. 30

2801. The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. But what was the question? idc. 2802. Suggest three new diary circles that you would find interesting: lol no thanks. 2803. Buttons or Knobs? knobs? idk what this is in reference to. 2804. What is a juggalo? those guys from insane clown posse, right? i could totally be wrong. 2805. Are you a fan of Crass? no.

2806. If you were going to write a short note to yourself and then put it away and read it in ten years, what would it say? i hope you ended up getting your shit together. 2807. When someone does something that is wrong do you believe that they know in their hearts that they are wrong but they push it down into their subconcious and rationalize away their guilt? yes and no. someone people genuinely don’t give a fuck. When have you done this (if you say never then you are doing it right now)? no. 2808. How can a person have sex with someone they don't love? they just... do? Have YOU ever? nope. 2809. What are the paradoxes in your head (that is when you believe two conflicting things to be true)? none. i do like reading up on paradoxes though. 2810. What does each set of two words suggest to you? pale gravity: no thanks. little mornings: spiritual machines: eccentric being: pray attention: yellow lectures: 2811. What movie would be AWESOME in 3D? tron was amazing in 3d, i actually felt sick afterwards lol. 2812. Why is it important to write and think clearly? just coz. 2813. A girl and her boyfriend are hanging out. It is obvious they are together. Another guy schmoozes between them and starts hitting on the girl. The boyfriend tells this guy to back off. The guy just keeps bothering the girl. Do you think the boyfriend would be justified in hitting this intrusive guy? i think the boyfriend should continue to use his words before getting violent. A girl and her boyfriend are hanging out. It is obvious they are together. Another GIRL(lesbian) schmoozes between them and starts hitting on the first girl. The boyfriend tells this girl to back off. The girl just keeps bothering the first girl. Do you think the boyfriend would be justified in hitting this intrusive girl? same answer as above ^ If you answered yes to one situation and no to the other one why the double standard? i had the same answer for both. 2814. What do you think of the name Prue? it reminds me of charmed. 2815. What would you spend your last dollar on? nothing, i’ll keep it. 2816. Have you ever won an ebay auction? yeah, i think i have. If yes for what? idk, this was years ago when ebay didn’t have a but it now option. 2817. Would you like it if Blockuster had a drivethrough?? blockbuster is dunzo. 2819. When was the last time you taught someone somthing and what was it? i was teaching my boyfriend how to milly rock hahaha. 2820. Why do adults and teens not understand each other? generation gaps. but i know of plenty of instances where they do understand each other. 2821. Are you afraid? no. 2822. Do you trust large drug corporations? it’s not something i’ve sat and thought about tbh. Do you trust the Food and Drug administration? idk. 2823. If a tree falls in the woods does it make a sound? yes. Do you define sound as sound waves or as the reaction between the soundwaves and your ears? sound waves.  2824. Who is full of shit? your mother. 2825. Four of the five senses are routed through a special area to the brain. One sense goes right to the brain and so is a powerful sense involved with memory and emotion. Which sense do you feel this is? smell? haha idk. 2826. Are you on a ship of fools or a carousel? carousel. 2827. What is your bathing suit like? it’s just plain black. 2828. Whose line is it, anyway? not mine. 2829. Are you more likely to answer a signed in note or a nsi note? idk what a nsi note is. 2830. To be or not to be. That is the question. What is the answer? i have no idea. 2831. Does beauty exist as a definable standard or is beauty in the eyes of the beholder? it’s definitely in the eye of the beholder. Why do you think it is that so many people have the same idea of who and what is beautiful? society’s standards. but not everyone follows it. Where do your standards for judging beauty come from? i’m not sure actually. i could think someone is gorgeous but my friend would think they’re ugly. idk. 2832. Would a war with Iraq help or harm american economy? lol. 2833. What is the first thing you would do if you saw a nuclear explosion in the distance? call my family and boyfriend and check the news. 2834. Would you like to be cryogenically frozen? nah. 2835. Think of the person you love the most. Would you be willing to murder a stranger in order to save that person's life? Why or why not? eh, not sure. i’d only 100% murder the stranger if they were the one endangering my loved one’s life. i’d have to think about it otherwise. 2836. Imagine no possetions. I wonder if you can? did you mean possessions? 2837. How messed up is: your hair? it’s quite neat actually. your room? yeah it’s a mess. your car? mess. your life? mess. 2838. What are you running out of? patience. 2839. What do you live for? myself. 2840. How did you decide it was worth living for? idk, just coz it’s my life. 2841. Do you consider some people to be too: traditional? conformist? avant-garde? smart? stuck up? modern? beautiful? ugly? obsessed? emotional? petty? sneaky? fat? thin? i know people that could cover all of these things. 2842. By what criteria do you judge others? generally in their behaviour. i have no time for rude people. 2843. Do you look at people's words and actions or the underlying reasons for those words and actions? both. 2844. Which would you rather collect: simpsons action figures? <---- this kiss gear? anything with a smiley? horror movies? 2845. Do you fight for your rights? not as much as i should. 2846. Would you rather be a construction worker or a crossing guard? crossing guard. 2847. What is enought o satisfy you in life? a well paying job that i can tolerate. 2848. Do you think you have more, less, or average life experiance for your age? i think i have a little more. 2849. Why go to college? if there’s a specific career path you want to follow that requires you to go to college, i think that’s a good enough excuse to go. Have you considered joining a cult instead? never. 2850. What's the last lie you told? someone asked me how i am and i said good lol. 2851. What celebrity has the sexiest voice of females? rihanna, i love her accent. males? drake has a really smooth speaking voice. 2852. You are having a party and can invite three celebrities of your choice. The WILL come. Who do you invite? rihanna, the weeknd andddd beyonce. 2853. Where did you come from? from my parents? Where are you now? in bed. Where are you going? nowhere. 2854. What would you imagine the playboy mansion is like? tbh it never looked that appealing during that reality show. it’s not something i’d be interested in seeing. 2855. Do you blow your nose loudly in public? only if i have to. 2856. Do you help others every day? i’d like to. 2857. Bono or Chris Tucker? neither. 2858. Is it lonely being alone in your head? sometimes i like being alone. 2859. What is the worst poverty you have ever seen? philippines. 2860. Has anyone ever told you that more than 2 billion people live on less than two dollars a day? no one has told me that. i wouldn’t be surprised if it’s gotten higher since this survey was made over 10 years ago. What do you think of that? it’s really sad. 2861. Add a sentance to the story: Once upon a time there was a man named Arthur and he was brushing his teeth when all of a sudden he saw a bright rainbow utside. So he goes out the back door to take a look and he finds an elf who says fuck you. 2862. Be honest.. do you generally listen or wait for your turn to talk? i usually wait unless i have a strong point to share. 2863. How many fingers do you type with? all of them i think. 2864. What does 'you think you know but you have no idea' mean? Where did it come from as a common phrase? my interpretation of it is like... you’re making a strong assumption without actually knowing or experiencing something. 2865. Do you think it's important to give up liberties in order to protect freedom? slightly contradictory but ok. 2866. Do you think George Bush was elected in a legal way? i don’t know much about american politics. 2867. Imagine you were dying of a disease...you only had a certain amount of time left with your mte, parents or children. What would you leave behind for them to remember you by? photos, videos, letters etc. How would you feel if there were drugs to help you live, only you couldn't afford them? i’d feel pretty helpless. How would you feel if people were trying to sell you the drugs at a lower cost but the drug companies made sure they couldn't because that would cut their profits? idk. This senario is going on Right Now.The country is Africa. The disease is aids. The drug is azp (and others). The people are Africans who are very poor and have aids. The large drug corporations won't sell the drugs at a price they can afford or allow smaller companies to either. Is this acceptable? no. What are you going to do about it? there’s not much i can do but research i guess. 2868. Would you ever BUY a new ring for your cell phone that plays a couple of notes of your favorite song? nah. 2869. What has completely moved you? life. 2870. If for your next birthday you had a novelty kids birthday party what games would you play at it? hide and seek, pinata, bullrush lol. 2871. How can you keep open toed sandles from rubbing against your toes and making them blistered and raw? wear different shoes. 2872. What happens to socks when they disappear in the drier? how the hell would i know. 2873. What is the quality of humanity all about? life lol. 2874. True or false - All homophobes are inherently evil.: false... some probably are, some are just not educated. 2875. Is there anything, besides love, that money can't buy? experience. eh, half true idk. 2876. How is your soul? still there. 2877. What are you committed to? these damn surveys lol. 2879. Are you photogenic? no. 2880. Can you define these words off the top of your head as if you were talking to someone who didn't know what they were? rain: cold: green: sand: eh, too tired to think. 2881. Why aren't you naked (or are you)? because i’m cold. 2882. Do you think anoyone is all good or all evil? possibly. 2883. Go outside a sec. how many animals are in your yard? lol hell no. Did you count yourself? why or why not? 2884. What household appliance drags you down? none. they’re all very useful. 2885. try this..write a list of six possibilities of things you could do after you are off the computer. Make sure that at lease ONE thing is something you would be unlikely to ever do. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. no. Now grab a dice (if you have none ask someone to pick a number between 1 and 6) and decide what you will do by flipping it. Then do it! 2886. Which of the following doesn't belong with the others and why? a. garden b. love c. magazine d. death idk 2887. How old are you? 26. What age do you feel mentally? 26. emotionaly? same. spiritualy? is there an age for spirituality? 2888. Who do you think is more wise: your mailman or a person who has been living on the streets for 12 years? it would just depends on the person. 2889. Do you kiss on the first date? i’m open to it. 2890. Would you ever want to be oon: a dating show(which)? no. a game show(which)? the amazing race. the news(why)? no, i don’t want any attention. 2891. How much money would it take to get you to: strip to nuthing but a bright orange thong (for guys, orange thongs an string bikini top for girls)and wrestle another person of the same sex in a thong in a pool of jello? 10k. participate in a contest where you drink alcohol as fast as you can until you puke? i’ll do it for like $100 lol. i’ll puke instantly. sit absolutely still for 2 hours, in nothing but a towel, covered in plaster of paris? $1000 maybe. Walk around at your school in bondage gear asking people to spank you on the ass with a huge dead octopus tenticle? i don’t go to school and that’s just creepy. pick your nose and eat it? $50 hahah. smash potatoes with your head? if it doesn’t hurt i’ll do it for a pretty low price. 2892. Who deserves an appology? my grandma. 2893. What wins the award as stupidst lyric you can think of? i feel like every artist has released a song with cringey lyrics. 2894. Where do you most like to be massaged? neck, back and feet. 2895. Is your face clear? no :( i got like two pimples after a night out. 2896. Finish this phrase in a humorous way.. Friends don't let friends... eat salad. 2897. What present would you bring to the birthday party of an aquaintance? i’d regift them something i already had. sorry lol. 2898. Is your game on? no. 2899. What would a song for the deaf be like? possibly feeling the bass. How about a painting for the blind? a visual description. 2900. What is a sure-fire way to get noticed? yeah, run around naked in public.

#survey #surveys #quiz #bored #questions

[izzyspussy]

ALL 50 QUESTIONS BITCH

HECK

1: Age Group   For fic tbh whatever, I know a lot of people in fandom are underage and are exploring and figuring out what they like, etc. Plus not all my stuff is explicit, and some of the stuff that is still isn’t porn so. As for original stuff that will likely all be explicit as well, so an adult market audience.

2: Genre   Usually fantasy, sometimes science fiction.

3: Big Idea or Detail Oriented Outlining   binch i cant outline for absolute shit. I guess big picture but like…. ?? the biggest possible picture, almost to the point of being useless lmfao. someone help me.

4: Line Editing or Plot Revision   I prefer line editing for fics because I’m lazy and it’s for free, but overhaul type revision results in a better finished product so I use that for original stuff (and commissions).

5: With or Without Deadlines    With deadlines, definitely. I can crank out 1k in an hour if I have a deadline, but without one it can take me 2 years to write just as much (see: Zwangsneurose, started the second I got home from seeing The Winter Soldier, still not finished, word count at ~800 lmfao).

6: The Biggest Compliment   I love it when people mention details that they noticed! Or if god forbid I was funny once.

7: Current WIP Length   I have 12 fic WIPs right now and the longest one is 7.7k. I have 4 original WIPs right now, but they are all in development stages, with no word count yet.

8: Author Comparison Goal   @neil-gaiman 110%. He is my ultimate goals and a huge inspiration, not to mention just a plain cool guy. I also would love to be compared to Rick Riordan or Gillian Flynn.

9: Biggest Struggle   Foreshadowing probably. I sort of wing it as I’m writing, and I can’t do a very good outline like I said, so it’s tough to get good hints and clues as to what’s coming. That’s part of the reason my originals are taking so much development (not just because I have to fill in all the worldbuilding that is already mostly done for fic).

10: Brainstorming With Others or Alone     I like to do a bit of both. I really appreciate input, plus talking things out can really get the creative ball rolling. But I like to get into Deep Shit on my own too, especially with worldbuilding. I’ll always share with others though, even the stuff I wanted to come up with all on my lonesome.

11: Characters Based on Real People     I’m sure there are aspects of people I know, and of myself, in every character I create, and likely even in characters that have already been created. What you know will always leak into your writing. However, I don’t usually base a character fully (or purposefully) around one real person. I do namesakes though, but they’re almost never modeled after that person, it’s just a shoutout to someone I find inspiring in some way.

12: Writing Space Clean or Cluttered     cluttered af binch u been here & seen it smh make me drag myself in front of everyone……

13: Character Driven or Plot Driven     Always character driven!! what kinda question

14: Favorite Writing Related Quote     “Stories may well be lies, but they are good lies that say true things, and which sometimes pay the rent.” - guess who lmao

15: My Characters in Someone Else’s World     I would transport my characters into (brace yourselves for a shock lol jk) American Gods, primarily so that they could get some good old fashioned “help” from the Big Guys.

16: Movie or TV Show     Well two of them have pretty finite endings. The romance legend could be a tv show but with a limited amount of renewal, ala A:TLA (but I’d like it better as a graphic novel). The vampire tragedy has a very finite ending so that would make a better movie. And the witch noir and girl gang are both a bit neverending-WIP-ish so they’d make pretty good shows.

17: Soundtracks     Yes! They help keep me focused and writing in a cohesive tone when I have to leave and come back. Y’all can listen to the playlist I have for witch noir here. Eventually I’ll split it up for character and/or scene mood, and I might add some scene suitable ambient noise tracks too.

18: One Song to Sum It Up    witch noir - Temptress, S.J. Tucker    romance legend - Take Me to Church, Neon Jungle    vampire tragedy - Bodies, Celia Pavey    girl gang - Weapon, Bastille & Angel Haze & FUGZ & Braque

19: Me There or Characters Here     …me there, I guess? In the romance legend, vampire tragedy, and girl gang not anything would really be different, but in the witch noir I’d probably have inherited some sweet powers. Not many of my characters are very friendly tho lmao.

20: Most Wanted Adaptation     Probably (a piece of) the witch noir. It’d be neat to actually see all those neat film noir lighting tricks.

21: Finish     Uh. I finish one shot porn a lot? lmao. Other than that, damn… no.

22: Made Myself Cry     lol yah

23: Proud or Anxious     usually I’m more proud, but sometimes when it’s something that’s very deeply personal or controversial I can get anxious.

24: When Did I Become a Writer     tbh sometimes I think I came out the womb that way. I don’t remember not being a writer, and I know I had legit novel ideas as early as like 3rd grade, and was making shit up with pretty words even earlier.

25: Must Reads in My Genre     three guesses what i’m bout to say y’all. Literally anything by Gaiman. Cornelia Funke’s Inkheart series. Any Pratchett. Donna Gillespe fucked me up with The Light Bearer. Bear Daughter by Judith Berman (although that is kind of a tough read, so I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it for everyone).

26: My Genre Needs More…     Diversity in general, specifically more people of color, queer people, and people with disabilities (that aren’t magically erased). Also in my opinion there needs to be more things in between grimdark and go-lucky fairytale.

27: Inspiration Source     History, anthropology, and pseudoscience.

28: Character Naming Stress from 1-10     Probably about a 2 or a 3. I use behindthename.com which can be searched for meanings, sound patterns, usage, and origin, and has a handy “name themes” search algorithm. I also recently found the legit U.S. census thanks to @peppersandcats helping me out with search terms, and that can be sorted by ethnicity, gender, time period, and geographical location. So I’ve got names pretty well covered!

29: Underwrite or Overwrite First Drafts     It could go either way, but generally speaking unless I have a word limit I usually like to add more during editing. Except when something is confusing or too complicated, then I’ll cut it.

30: Calming or Stressing      Not really either tbh. I enjoy it a lot, but it’s mostly exciting! Not calming or stressful, but either a fun adventure or a challenging puzzle.

31: Favorite Trope     Tough to pick just one tbh. I love tropes when they are done “right”. Even tropes done classically can be great (as long as they’re not -phobic of some sort), but I especially love when they are done satirically or inverted.

32: Backstories for Side Characters     Guilty af. Even characters that might not even make it into the finished book have backstories, personalities, and quirks.

33: Characterize Before Writing or Develop with The Story     A little bit of both. I like to have a solid character to work with at the beginning, but for in-text character development I like to let that unfold with the plot and the other characters.

34: Old Writing in One Word     Prolific

35: Villains or Heroes     I like them both pretty well, but my favorite characters of all time are always a little ambiguous so if I had to pick just one kind that’s what I’d go with.

36: B&W Morality     No way! I live in the gray area.

37: Advice     Have fun! Be proud of yourself for what you come up with and celebrate your creativity even if you think it doesn’t compare with other writers. The happier you are to create, the more creative you’ll get. Also, like with any other kind of art, pick a couple role models to emulate and that will help you develop your own solid style.

38: Advice I Fail At     The first draft doesn’t have to be perfect. I spend too long line editing while I’m writing my first draft and that makes it a lot harder to finish anything.

39: Importance of Positive Reinforcement     I’d say reasonably important. Definitely helpful. But I know I’ll keep writing even without it.

40: Question for Favorite Author     How much difference is there between how his creation is in his head versus how it came out in the words, and does he ever think about rewriting things that are long finished?

41: Distracting to Read While Writing     Actually, no. Reading other comparable works helps keep me motivated, inspired, and focused.

42: Motivated or Discouraged by Critiques     Tbh I don’t think I have ever received a real in-depth critique so I’m not certain? I’ve had idle “I liked this, but I didn’t like/understand that” type of feedback, and that has usually been pretty helpful and appreciated. If nothing else it lets me know what parts of the story might not be as accessible to an audience.

43: Protagonists in My Likeness     Yes, there’s a little of me in very many of my protagonists, and often even in fic characters that I write. But, like with other real people, they’re not usually modeled after me, we just have some stuff in common because I leak over into them (and sometimes they leak over into me) when I’m writing them.

44: Choosing An Idea      This is something I struggle with, really. My process is usually to try writing a bit of it, and if I hate it it’s probably not viable.

45: Harder or Easier While Stressed      It’s usually a harder to write when I’m stressed, and what I do manage to write doesn’t have as much quality.

46: Sort Protagonists      !!! There are too many!! these are just the Big Ones (so far) in witch noir      Gryffindor - toots, eddie, maddie, anca, seth      Hufflepuff - lily, charisma, s.j., angel, iris      Ravenclaw - fred, ariel, dido, father piero      Slytherin - evelyn, jessica, sloan, clara-claudia, aixa

47: Five Year Goal     Hopefully I will have fucking finished something. Maybe published? Or maybe getting my manuscript looked at. (I have a humble-ish time frame, I think. Writing is a lot of work, and five years is a lot less time than it sounds like.)

48: Co-Writing     I’m a huge control freak, so probably not. At least not with original characters. Maybe for fic tho, because that can be much lower stakes lmao.

49: Fast or Slow     When I’m in The Zone I speed thru, but it can take me a while to get started and I come up on blocks pretty often so I’m a slow finisher.

50: Worldbuilding or Characters     Shit man, that’s a tough choice. I guess characters? I don’t know.

#ask meme #writing stuff #jack chats #kelsie #writing process #jack facts #jesus this took me like an hour smh #lovemea-malia #hc

[gillywulf]

you’re a problem but you’re mine (you’re a winner even though you think you’re not)

The pet Hotel AU.

AO3

Summary: Jason needs a job and PetStay needed him.

Pt. 2                  (warning: this does include a dog bite)

~

It turned out that prepping for mealtimes wasn’t as hard as Jason initially thought. Like Billy, he’d needed to develop a system before it made sense, but eventually, once he’d started separating the labels stating the dog’s name and food into dry and wet, the process went far quicker. He was midway through preparing dinners when the door to the kitchen slammed open and a middle aged man with neat, short hair. He stopped short at the sight of Jason.

“Who are you?” Blunt. Jason held out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Jason. I’m new. Ish” The man takes his hand and it’s surprisingly gentle.

“Tommy Oliver. I’m the trainer here and my kid works the night shift” Jason remembered the walkie chart with Tommy Junior written next to green and nodded.

“Oh yeah, I haven’t met him yet” An odd look crossed Tommy’s face.

“Uh, Tommy Junior is-”

“Tommy! What up, dude?” Zack’s boisterous voice filled the small kitchen, shoving whatever the trainer was going to say out of their minds. “I haven’t seen you in like, two weeks” He set down the stack of used dog bowls and spread his arms, offering a warm hug. Tommy was clearly uncomfortable.

“Good to see you, Zack. Oh, whoops, I have class in two minutes. Nice to meet you, Jason” He slipped from the room with a quick wave.

“I can not figure out why he doesn’t like me” Zack mumbled, perching his hands on his hips. The whole image - the confused face, the posture, the situation he’d just witnessed - as truly a masterpiece. Jason laughed.

“Never change, man”

~

“Have a nice day” Kim beamed at the pet parent until they rounded the corner out of eye sight. She dropped her falsely peppy face instantly and rolled her eyes to Jason. “‘I ordered a nail trim and a suite!’ They did neither so he got neither. I literally hate people. They over feed and under care and get upset at me when they’re the one who messed up” she huffed, turning back to the computer and tapping in last minute pay information. He laughed.

“I mean you’re not wrong, but that’s like all retail”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still hate them”

“That’s fair,” he shrugged, “you get off in five minutes too, right? Do you want to go to Krispy Kreme with me and my little sister? My mom’s dropping her off in a bit” Kim twisted the watch on her wrist and shrugged.

“Sure. I bet she’s funnier than you”

“Says the girl who literally can’t make a joke that gets anyone laughing” She scowled and crossed her arms.

“I will have you know, I am very funny”

“No, I think Pearl will definitely be funnier than both of us”

~

The dog squirmed and wriggled with all its might, crying all the while. The high pitched squeals were definitely starting to hurt Jason’s ears. None of it was helping the nail grind get done any faster. He stepped back with a resigned sigh and punched the talk button on his walkie.

“Red could use some help with a nail grind” The dog leveled him with her best pleading stare. Maybe if she looked sad enough, he would stop.

“Blue to the rescue!” Billy’s voice announced over the radio. Less than a minute later, the boy strolled in and took a firm hold of the dog’s body. Thankfully, it was enough for Jason to finally get a full paw done with the promise of stillness for the rest. He quickly moved on to the next paw. If she wasn’t going to stay this calm long, he needed to be fast.

“Billy, you are an absolute lifesaver” Why did dogs need to much hair over their feet? It just made everything harder and slightly more dangerous. He could get it stuck in the grinder and pull out a chunk if he wasn’t careful.

“My pleasure, Jason. Hey, do you think I’m weird?” Jason stilled, stopped the grinder, and straightened to look Billy dead in the eye.

“I’ve seen Zack eat a burger off the ground even though the bun fell off”

“No, I know- I mean, yeah, that’s kinda weird, but I mean like, you know-”

“Did something happen?” he asked. Concern clawed its way up his throat and the dog sat happily on the table between them, clearly believing she was out of the woods. Billy looked hesitant for a moment.

“I brought Summer up to her mom and I was really excited because we don’t really get all that many Corgis, so I was telling her neat history about their breed, like ‘corgi’ means ‘dwarf-dog’ in Welsh where they originated from and because they are herders, they are the same type of dog that huskies are, which no one really expects because they are so different. And she looked at me like a lot of people do when I start to talk a lot, like there must be something definitely wrong with me” His hold on the dog slackened, his hands instead stroking along her side.

“Billy,” Jason wanted so badly to lay his hand on Billy’s shoulder, to really draw his attention, but he knew his friend didn’t like to be touched, so he reigned himself in, “you are the kindest, smartest, most caring person I know. Hands down. Having a diagnosis doesn’t make you weird, it’s another part of who you are, just like your love of country music” Billy smiled at that and Jason accepted the small victory. “One rude lady isn’t going to change any of the awesome things about you. Don’t ever forget that” Billy’s eyes shone and it looked like he might even cry. Jason wouldn’t be able to stop himself from following if that was going to happen.

“Thank you, Jason”

“Honestly any time. Thank you for coming to me. Now let’s get her finished up, okay?”

~

It was almost funny watching Trini try and hold back such a fat chocolate lab. Tucker was definitely not built to easy walking.

“Fuck you, dick! Stop pulling!” She grit her teeth and dug in her heels, but it was no use. Tucker was headed to camp at his own pace. “You wanna help at all?” she shot back to Jason behind her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to keep holding Gus to make sure he doesn’t kill anyone. You know, because he’s so lethal” Gus was in fact a toy fox terrier, shaking constantly and peeing himself in fear as Jason spoke.

“Dick, Tucker, stop!” Kim chose that moment to step into the hallway from the relief room. She calmly took in the scene; Trini being pulled by an overexcited fat dog and Jason, with his tiny shaking mess. With a roll over her eyes, she reached out and jerked Tucker’s lead in a direction he wasn’t expecting, surprising him enough to get him to stop.

“Tuck, walk nice” she demanded. “If he keeps doing it, just stop and wait for him to settle. He needs to learn not to pull” Her eyes bore into Trini’s and even from his not great angle, Jason could see how struck Trini was. The girl’s eyes didn’t move away once Kim headed to the grooming room.

“You good?” he asked, almost concerned.

“Fuck, she’s so hot”

~

When things were busy, things were busy. Jason barely had a moment to breathe between shuffling dogs into their rooms, cleaning, juggling dogs in camp, and a whole host of other duties.

“Red, I need Maximus when you have a moment; he’s going home” Kim’s steady voice broke through his dinner prep concentration. He sighed. He was never going to get anything done.

“Sure, pink” He left the kitchen and speed walked to where he knew Maximus the giant yellow lab would be waiting by the kennel door, his tongue lolling out and his tail wagging non-stop. Sure enough, that was the sight that greeted him. The dog was clearly excited to go home, if the way he pulled at his leash was any indicator. His owners beamed and hugged him while obliviously clogging up the reception area. But of course, there was no time to stand there and wonder whether or not it was just a little too much, another family stood waiting to say goodbye to their German Shepard.

“Jason, could you please take Grant to 211? Thank you” Kim was already staring back to paperwork, highlighting on a chart the days certain services were being received.

“Sure,” he smiled politely to the family and slipped a lead over Grant’s head, his other hand extended for the leash, “I can take him, have a great day” Grant followed him easily to the door and through it, all the way to the door of kennel 211 where he promptly planted his feet and refused to move. “Bud, c’mon, I need to finish the lunches”

The pleading must have worked, because the dog gave in just enough to allow himself to be guided inside the kennel. Jason knelt to pull his lead and unclip the collar. Grant seized the moment. He shot out from under Jason’s knee in a desperate bid to escape. Jason did nothing but act on instinct. His hand shot out just as fast and just managed to grab a hold of Grant’s paper ID band.

The ID band around his neck.

While all Jason could think was to beg higher powers to keep the ID band in tact long enough for his to slip the lead back over his head, Grant wanted nothing more than to be away from him. So he rolled onto his back and turned his head to take Jason’s hand into his mouth and bit. Hard.

For a long second Jason didn’t even register what had happened. He was so focused on holding on that his brain excused the bite like that from a puppy, painful, but only for a second and completely harmless. That is, until his brain caught up with the sheer pain and the sight of blood. Needless to say, he let go.

Grant took off out of Jason’s view. His hand was mangled, that was the only word he could associate with the way it looked. He must not have registered Grant’s frenzied shaking like a chew toy he was on the other end of. He tried to make a fist and failed.

“Hey Jason, what’s taking- holy shit” Trini wasted no time. She marched over to him and took the hand in hers. She whipped the grey beanie from her head and wrapped it as tightly around it as possible. “Keep this tight, you need pressure,” she tugged on her walkie, “birdhouse” she said simply before pushing him off towards the kitchen. “Go wait there. I’ll get him in the kennel and we’ll take you to the hospital”

Jason blinked in awe at her take-charge attitude, but managed a weak nod. She was gone in the blink of an eye, her tiny voice gruff and furious as she called out Grant’s name. He definitely heard an aggressive ‘ass-fucker’ as he headed towards the kitchen.

Billy was already there, gauze and light antiseptics at the ready. He was so careful and gentle and Jason was eternally grateful, he just wished his head was clearer to express that appreciation. He’d do that later when he wasn’t bleeding profusely. Kim burst into the room just as the cleaning stage finished. She did a quick examination before motioning to Billy to continue.

“We’ve already called Grant’s parents. They were only in the parking lot and he’ll be refused for the rest of the month. Okay, wow that’s a lot of blood. Trini’s going to drive you to the hospital because Billy can’t drive, Zack’s stuck in camp, and I have to man the front desk. She’s usually a good driver, I promise” Before Jason had long enough to process the statement and ask what exactly she meant by that, Trini swept into the room and grabbed his bicep.

“C’mon, homeboy,  let’s get you to the hospital before you bleed out” The next few minutes are a whirlwind of racing out the store in an attempt not to alarm customers and to reach the hospital as quickly as possible. Kim’s ‘usually’ begins to make sense on the highway. Trini darts her car into small spaces and slams on the brakes and accelerator so often that Jason began to worry a heart attack might kill him before his hand.

There was something incredibly calming about her hard demeanor cracking only enough for her worry to trickle out in barely-there ways, like the way her eyes constantly darted over to him, or the way her hands tightened over and over on the steering wheel. Maybe she did like him. He’d like to be friends.

~

Jason wordlessly held out the tray of steaming coffee cups while trying very hard not to chug from his own. With a small sigh of relief, Kim took the tray and then the cup marked with her name.

“Zack’s running late” she mumbled after a long sip. Jason laughed.

“Some day, someone who’s not us will realize and he’ll get fired”

“Let’s hope not. We’re still super understaffed”

“Good thing I’m here, right?” The two whirled around to find a girl with closely cropped hair and a grin too bright for the early hour standing on the other side of the front desk, already in the customary PetStay navy polo. Jason and Kim shot one another confused glances.

“Uh, I’m sorry to ask, but who are you? I only have one person for training on my list today” Kim thumbed through her schedule post-it notes, looking for any name she didn’t recognize.

“That’s probably me. I’m Tj” she beamed. Jason couldn’t help but notice the startlingly bright green eyes she had. Kim didn’t stop frowning.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see a ‘Tj’ anywhere” Tj seemed to sag at that.

“Is there a ‘Tommy Jr’?”  Her entire body deflated with the question with a resignation so bone deep that Jason thought she might just collapse under the weight of it. Kim blinked dumbly.

“Yes”

“That’s me”

“No it isn’t” Tj rolled her eyes and dug around in her back pocket for a moment until she produced a drivers’ license, complete with her picture and ‘Tommy Oliver Jr.’ printed beside it.

“My dad’s the trainer here. I’m the overnighter. I’m transferring to day shift. I’m Green” Even though the evidence was nothing short of indisputable, Kim’s face couldn’t free itself of the bafflement she felt. Thankfully, Zack chose that moment to sprint up to the counter and diffuse the tension.

“Guys, I’m sorry I’m late-”

“Zack, this is Tj, bring her into Bigs with you” He swiveled on his heel and froze. Jason watched as his face got progressively redder with each passing second.

“Hi- er, hello. Welcome to PetStay. I will be your trainer, or uh, senior, today,” he stopped his rambling, “let’s load up” He shuffled awkwardly to the back with Tj on his heels. Jason took a slow sip from his coffee and leaned against the counter.

“He likes her”

“Two damn seconds in”

“He also forgot his coffee”

~

On days where there were only enough dogs for one camp, everyone seemed to mill around aimlessly, trying to find something, anything to do. Jason knew that Zack was having plenty of fun in camp, but Trini, Kim, and Billy would all be restless, not to mention himself.

Jason decided to do a little tidying in the grooming room, picking up and throwing out old ID bands, sweeping up shed fur, and bringing dirty, wet towels to the laundry room. Maybe he’d even throw a load or two in. Between beds, blankets, and towels, there was almost definitely enough.

He hefted the pile of wet towels into his arms (while attempting to keep them from soiling his shirt) and march near-blind to the laundry room. Of course, it could never be that simple. He couldn’t just walk in an do his job.

Instead, he was greeted by Kim pressing the full length of her body into Trini, hands wandering and lips moving as one, together.

Of course he had to walk in on them making out. He was happy for them, naturally, but he didn’t need to keep seeing the PDA. Especially when Trini’s hand was definitely undoing the unbutton on the front of Kim’s pants.

Jason turned on his heel and dumped the towels into a nearby cart. He had to stop himself from sprinting to the kitchen. When he walked in, Billy looked up from the dishes and smiled, perpetually happy to see him. The long purple rubber gloves were pulled up to his elbows to keep his hands from feeling all of the left-over food residue.

“So,” Jason began, leaning against the sink, “don’t go into the laundry room, okay?” Billy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“Why?”

“Kim and Trini are...you know” He gestured vaguely in the hopes that he wouldn’t have to say it.

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking” Jason sighed and scrubbed his face, maybe it would dislodge the discomfort.

“Just trust me, you don’t want to go in there for a while. Maybe an hour, just to be safe” Billy’s confusion and suspicion didn’t disappear.

“I trust you”

“Thank you, Billy” The two of them spent the next fifty minutes filling the time, talking about the dogs, the cats, the store, and their co-workers. It was pleasant when Jason’s mind didn’t wander to why they were doing that and not something else.

Kim and Trini stumbled into the room, looking far too disheveled and satisfied. Their grins were too wide and their limbs too loose. Jason crossed the room and laid a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Well,” he really meant the excited smile he gave them, “congratulations guys, but not here, please. I beg you”

~

District management almost never made in store appearances. Those were reserved for big changes, good news, or bad news. As the entire store was crowded together after hours, Jason couldn’t help but fear the latter. Alvie clapped his hands together for the crowd’s attention.

“Excuse me, thank you everyone for showing up tonight” Zack nudged Jason in the ribs.

“Wasn’t this mandatory?” They sniggered together as Alvie plowed on.

“I want to take the time to thank each and every one of you for your time and dedication into this store” He took a long pause to try and make eye contact with as many people as possible. “However, I regret to tell you all that our store will be closing at the end of the month”

A chorus of gasps, sighs, and groans filled the air and Jason, between fish tanks and dog harnesses, felt his heart break. Alvie continued to talk about what the chain will do for them as if it could measure up to what it would provide if it stayed open. The rest of the meeting went by in a daze. He barely took in more than three consecutive words.

The hotel staff lingered in the parking lot, no one quite sure what do do or say. And Jason had come to a conclusion that these people were his friends, no matter what happened next. He loved the big way Zack felt everything. He loved Billy’s never ending affection. He loved the quiet way Trini expressed her protectiveness. He loved the simplicity of Kim’s humor.

He loved them. Even when he was scooping poop.

“So this sucks” Trini mumbled once they were alone on the pavement. Kim, her arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders, hummed in agreement.

“What the hell are we going to do? I want to keep hanging out with you guys. Forget trying to get someone else to hire me” Zack ruffled his hair and Billy laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“What if we all applied at the same place? There’s another PetStay a few miles away. If we don’t all get it, we apply somewhere else. I know it feels like it right now, but it isn’t the end, not by a lot, okay? We’re blue,” he gestured to Billy, “black,” then to Zack, “pink, yellow,” Kim and Trini stood a little straighter, “and red. Take us or leave us” His breathing was labored by the end, but his heart felt big and hopeful. Kim snorted and ducked her head.

“You’re such a nerd. Come on Mr. Leader. Let’s go to Krispy Kreme you guys. I could use some sugar” She threw her other arm over his shoulders, even though it was a bit of a stretch with his height. He shook his head but extended his own arm to Billy, who after a quick deliberation nodded and pulled Zack close.

“I’m the nerd. You play Pokemon Go every day”

“Holy fuck, really? What team are you?”

“Zack, you know it literally does not matter, right?”

“Actually, there have been studies about what the choice says about people, Trini”

“I didn’t know that, B. Tell us about it”

#power rangers #fanfiction #mine