#if you're seeing this organically on your dash this is not directed toward you

[cheeriecherrymain]

I see ur requests are open and... i have an odd one, if you're willing. Viktor with a s/o who asks if he could be more possessive for a night? Like, reader would never intentionally make Viktor jealous but they like the fantasy of it, if that makes sense?

Whether you do this ask or not, I just want to say i adore your writing. Its like a warm hug on a rainy day <3

Once again, I have taken the prompt in my mouth and run away, and this time no one was there to get to me to spit it out. I'm sorry, it's a little bit chewed.

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Viktor x fem!Reader (18+)

Content tags: some guy being gross and handsy (brief) | Reader being anxious (brief) | possessive Viktor | semi-public sex | p in v | fingering | squirting | lol it's a little messy | meanie Viktor | but also softie Viktor | safewords in place but not used

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-You can feel the eyes on you, as you wander around the crowded event hall. Sidelong glances from other patrons as you pass them by, their gazes lingering for a few seconds before their attention is drawn elsewhere.

-You don’t stand out amongst the other partygoers - your clothing is simple and elegant, draping and folding over your body in the most flattering way. Your jewelry, though heavy at your throat and wrists, is mundane, even as it sparkles in the light of the chandeliers above.

-But despite all this, despite so totally blending in with the crowd, you can’t shake the sensation that you’re being watched. Not just looked at as a passing thought, but actively followed throughout the room. Yet you can’t seem to find your potentially unwanted guest.

-You crane your neck in every direction, hoping to detect any kind of suspicious movement. You’re honestly a little bit angry about how flustered all this is making you: you don’t even know that you are being watched. For all you know, there could be no threat whatsoever, and you could be getting worked up over nothing.

- “Shit!” you hiss, as you collide face-first into some unwitting person dressed in a fancy suit. “I’m sorry - I wasn’t watching where I was going!”

-You expect a solid reprimand for your actions, a verbal lashing for being careless and airheaded, and for having the audacity to interact with someone of such important stature.

-But nothing comes.

- “It’s alright,” the man chimes, flashing you with a blindingly charismatic smile. “The wine is still in the glass, so there’s no harm done. It can be hard to navigate around these things, without stepping on any toes.”

-He then leans down towards you, lowering his voice just slightly, “Both literally and figuratively.”

-The joke is old and overused, but it brings a charmed smile to your features nonetheless. You’re lucky that you’ve managed to run into someone so forgiving in spirit. Or…so you think.

-You move to make your escape, hoping to dodge any kind of conversation with the man, polite as he is, but the moment you turn away you feel a hand resting heavy on your waist. You want to pretend that you don’t notice the touch, you want to disappear into the crowd again, but then the stupid music also starts up again and the swaths of people begin to organize.

-Sectioning off into pairs or making haste to their seats, you’ve nowhere to disappear to without making a total ass of yourself. So, you do what any woman in your situation would: you turn around with a practiced smile, right into the waiting arms of a total stranger.

-It’s not a short dance by any means - no one comes up to the two of you to swap partners, and you’re unable to find an opening to quickly dash out of his arms. He holds you a little too tightly, a little too closely, for it to be friendly or comfortable. And god, you can smell the champagne on his breath, with how near he keeps you.

-And you still haven’t been able to shake the feeling of being watched.

-But then finally, finally, luck seems to line up in your favour. The music breaks off for a few moments, throwing off the rhythm of those still meandering around the dancefloor. Someone collides hard with your captor, jarring him enough that he releases you - and like you’d hoped, the first thing his attention is drawn to is the potential argument with the other guest.

-Leaving you just enough time to silently slink away, weaving around tables, to sneak out the main entrance to the room.

-It’s a little cooler in the hallway, though it’s hardly easier to breathe. You’re still wound up from everything that’s gone on, still on edge from all the touching and noise and bright lights and-

-You take a breath.

-It’s fine, you tell yourself, taking a few wobbly steps forward. The hallway is significantly less crowded than the prior room had been. Fewer eyes on you, if they even pay you any mind to begin with. It’s fine. He hasn’t followed you. He didn’t see you leave. You’re fine.

-But there it comes again, the feeling of being stared at.

-Like an electric shock up your spine, the panic sets in. Your pace quickens and you make your way briskly down the hall, praying to whatever deity might be out there that you won’t trip on your dress, or catch the toe of your shoe on the carpet.

-One foot, after the other, again and again.

-Turning down twisting hallways, until you finally end up alone.

-But you don’t feel alone. The floor is soft, too quiet for you to be able to detect any sound of footsteps.

-A glance around you confirms that yes, you’re definitely alone. But for how long? And with how far you’ve gone, what if you have been followed? What if you get hassled, or worse - would anyone hear you calling for help? Would anyone-

-You quickly duck into one of the many smaller rooms that line the corridor, swiftly shutting the door behind you.

-As if anyone would actually be able to get the drop on you, you think, your anxiety waning by a fraction. You throw a mean right hook, and you wore flats specifically in case you had to run.

-You take a second to catch your breath, leaning hard against the solid door. The room you’re in is probably the best you could have chosen, despite you not knowing where anything is. It’s spacious, but not overly so - the ceilings are a normal height, instead of arching high above in a display of grandiosity.

-It looks to be some sort of casual meeting room, with a couple of filled bookshelves, and couches laid out around an old fireplace. Unused, by the look of it, but you suppose it’s more about the flair than the functionality.

-You don’t pay mind to much else after that: you don’t need to. The room is dark, save for the moonlight from the windows lining one wall, and you’re finally relaxed enough to settle on one of the plush surfaces offered to you.

-You stare at the empty fireplace.

-You sigh.

-Your night wasn’t supposed to go like this.

-You were supposed to have fun, you were supposed to try weird, tasty fingerfoods, and laugh, and joke, and dance with your friends. You were supposed to spend time with your boyfriend, who for whatever reason, had decided not to show up.

-You sigh.

-Maybe it’s for the best that he didn’t come tonight. 

-He’s never been a particularly possessive person, nor is he very confrontational: but had he known about the other partygoer bothering you, making you uncomfortable and nervous and what not? He would have stepped in.

-And judging by the way your would-be assailant jumped at the chance to cuss out someone who had the audacity to disturb his dance with you, you don’t doubt that someone would have gotten punched.

-You don’t fancy your boyfriend with a black eye.

—

-You stay there for several minutes, reclining comfortably on the soft couch and letting your tired feet rest. It’s nice, sitting in the dark and the quiet, with only the distant din of the party to disturb you. No one passes by your little hiding place, or comes to tell you to leave. It’s just you, curled up, on the brink of dozing off.

-Until a sound brings you out of your trance.

-It’s brief, and you wonder for a moment if you really heard it, but - no, there it is again. It takes a moment for you to place where it’s coming from, but when you do, panic sets in anew. 

-The jiggling of a doorknob.

-If not someone here to actively bother you, then definitely some unwitting patron hoping to find a moment of reprieve. Or someone to scold you and kick you out - were you even supposed to be in here? Surely the door wouldn’t have been unlocked if you could get in trouble for wandering. With the party so close by, nothing of value would have been kept-

- “Miláček?” the lilted tone comes from the doorway as it cracks open, soft, but not so low as a whisper. “Are you in there?”

-All at once, your anxiety dissipates, and it feels like you can breathe again. “I’m here,” you breathe, allowing the tension to finally ease out of your shoulders. God, you were going to have some kind of headache tomorrow - if you couldn’t already feel one starting.

-Viktor slips inside the room just as sneakily as you had, shutting the door behind him. He stands there for a few moments, glancing around trying to find your person while his eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light.

- “Over here,” you tell him, biting back a laugh at the sight of him squinting towards a variety of shadows. “On the couch- no, the other couch- Viktor, the other, other couch.”

-You know he’s just toying with you, trying to make you giggle at his aimless bumbling. And it works, a smile finally tugging at the corners of your mouth.

-Probably your first real expression of the evening.

- “You know,” he says, once he’s settled comfortably beside you, with his arm tossed leisurely over the back of the couch. “You are remarkably difficult to find.”

-You scoot closer to him, allowing yourself to tilt sideways until you’re resting against him. He’s warm, and familiar, and you can’t control the sense of relief that washes through you when his arm slips from the couch to instead wrap over your shoulders, drawing you closer.

- “It was by design,” you admit, with a pout. “I couldn’t find you at the party, and some guy decided that was incentive to latch onto me. I was trying to escape him.”

-Viktor hums once to himself, in consideration.

-You’re…not sure why that makes you nervous.

-It’s a different sort of anxiety than you’d been feeling previously - you’re not filled with dread or fear, or…really any kind of negative emotion. Yet your heart rate has started to pick up, thumping harder in your chest and making it more difficult to find your breath.

- “I saw you,” he says bluntly.

-Your eyes widen.

- “You were quite quick on your feet, in the crowd,” he explains, his arm tightening around you. “I did try to catch up, but you kept disappearing on me.”

-You smush your cheek against him, readying an apology for not noticing him. But he, much to your surprise, shushed you with a single finger before you can even start speaking.

- “Imagine my annoyance,” he continues, a slender digit pressed over your lips, “Upon finding you with someone else? Some tall, blond, apparently belligerent man, who was most definitely not part of the plan we’d made tonight.”

-You swallow the lump in your throat, unable to quell the fluttering in your stomach as he stares hard into your eyes. Allowing you to see the disdain for the man who’d had his hands all over you, the irritation he’d felt in those moments where he hadn’t been able to say anything.

-And the amusement for what was to come.

- “Stand up,” he says suddenly, his hands leaving your body so he can lean away, “And take off your dress.”

-Heat immediately creeps up your neck.

- “What about the door?” you squeak, already embarrassed by the thought of someone walking in and seeing you stark naked. “I didn’t hear you lock it.”

-Viktor sighs.

- “There was no one in the hallway when I came in,” he says, already a little impatient. “And if someone does walk in…well. Let them watch, then. At least they’ll know that you’re mine.”

-You’re borderline ashamed at how wholly a single word affects you. Sending little tremors down every nerve in your body, you rise to your feet in a sudden daze, pulling hastily at the strings and buttons on the back of your dress.

-By design, it was fairly easy to get in and out of - loosen a couple of ribbons here and there, and the entire thing would slide flawlessly off your body. But no matter how you fumble with every knot, nothing seems to be fast enough - it only takes you about ten seconds to divest yourself of the fine silk, but it’s ten seconds too long.

-Ten seconds that Viktor isn’t touching you.

-To your credit, you do manage to rid yourself of your gown eventually, letting it pool at your feets for a moment before stepping out and kicking it aside. You take a step back towards your boyfriend, intent on finding your favourite spot in his lap.

-But he stops you.

-You hesitate slightly, and a question dies on your tongue when you see the crooked little smirk of amusement on his face.

- “On the table,” he orders gently, nodding towards the low centerpiece set up between all the couches. “Spread your legs for me, and don’t try to hide yourself. I want to see you.”

-You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment, before nodding. The polished, lacquered wood is a sudden chill of your backside, sending goosebumps prickling across your flushed skin. You don’t know why you’re so entirely bothered over just a few simple words, mildly humiliated by the way your boyfriend leers at you, even moreso by the chance that someone could actually walk in.

-Would he actually let them watch, you wonder. Would he actually fuck you in front of a total stranger?

- “Spread your legs,” he demands again, his tone a little sharper, when you sit there lost in thought for a couple seconds too long.

-You do as you’re told.

-You meet his demands enthusiastically, spreading yourself wider and wider as each order falls past his lips. All while he watches from the comfort of the couch, staring at you with an almost mean sort of pleasure.

- “Touch yourself,” he tells you, his own hands moving to the buttons of his trousers. “I can already see how soaked you are from here - are you really so affected by me, drahý? Or have you been dripping and wanting all night?”

-You whine quietly, your own hand dipping down between your legs. It’s you, you want to tell him, when you feel the slickness gathering below - but you know better than to speak when he hasn’t asked you to.

-He watches for a little while, slowly stroking himself to full hardness, while you work little circles over your clit. It’s not enough to make you come, not enough to even bring you close, but it certainly succeeds in making you wetter: and in providing a good show for him.

-Him, telling you when to slow down your movements, when to speed them up. Even when to slide two fingers into your drenched hole, and when to curl them against that perfect sweet spot inside.

-You whine when he asks that of you, knowing that if he pushes too far, where it will end up.

-But he persists, relentless in his command. “Curl. Your. Fingers.” he says sternly, watching bemusedly as you struggle to contain your reaction. 

- “I don’t want to make a mess,” you whine, trying desperately to slow your movements, hoping, begging that he’ll show you some mercy. That he won’t embarrass you like that, that he’ll turn his attention elsewhere and then fuck you with his perfect cock.

- “Perhaps,” he agrees, “But I want you to make a mess. It’s the least I deserve, don’t you think? After having to witness you let someone else put their filthy hands all over you? Besides, listen to you. Your sweet little cunt is already dripping everywhere - I know you want to come.”

-You can feel the tears budding in the corners of your eyes, your movements slowing even more, trying in vain to put off what you know is inevitable.

-Viktor, to his credit, does seem to notice your hesitation. His expression softens by a fraction, and he carefully slides off the couch and onto the floor, kneeling crookedly in front of you.

- “It it’s too much,” he reminds you, tenderly sliding the warm flat of his hands over your trembling things, “You know your colours. Do you want to tap out?”

-He stares up at you without any expectations or judgment, waiting in earnest to see if he’d pushed you too far past your boundaries.

-But still, despite your reservations, you shake your head quickly and keep your mouth shut. Like you’d discussed beforehand, over the past couple days, if you never uttered your safeword, then his torturous ministrations would continue.

-Your reaction makes him grin, nonetheless.

- “Good,” he says sweetly. It’s all a facade, though. As soon as the word leaves his mouth, he presses two of his own fingers into you, alongside your own. The stretch alone garners a soft cry from you, but the relentless pace he keeps is what makes you sob.

-Your entire body is burning hot: with embarrassment, with pleasure. The moans and whimpers that fall past your lips are entirely involuntary. The arm that’s holding you up gives out, and you flop bonelessly down onto the flat of the table.

-All you can do is hold on.

-Tears burning hot tracks down your cheeks, you watch as Viktor lowers himself further, bringing his face towards your drenched pussy.

-You know what he’s about to do.

-But knowing doesn’t prepare you for the actual sensation of his lips closing around your swollen clit. Sucking hard, delivering relentless bliss unto you.

-Your orgasm doesn’t wash over you so much as it does drown you. Engulfing you in your entirety, the sounds of the outside world fade away, and your vision dances with colours. Every muscle pulled taught while Viktor works you through it, grinning in satisfaction when your juices splash over his palm, and dribble down onto the carpet below.

-You, on the other hand, are certain you’ve died.

-Gone is your shame, your worries and hesitation, replaced with the infinite euphoria in which you float mindlessly.

-Barely even able to muster a whine when you feel the blunt head of your boyfriend’s cock sliding through your soaked folds. You don’t even have the strength to bat him away, though the stretch as he pushes into you grounds you a little.

-Enough to open your eyes, and stare up at him, breathless.

-Gone is his somewhat cruel expression from earlier, replaced with the tender and kind smile that you’re used to. The gentleness that you fell in love with, all those years ago. And his hands, stroking slowly up and down your sides, massaging little circles into the fat of your hips.

- “Colour, milý?” he asks, his honeyed eyes never leaving yours as he stoops down to press a kiss in between your breasts.

- “Green,” you hum weakly.

-He smiles against your skin, and then pulls back. Briefly. Sliding out of your slick cunt for only a fraction of a second before he’s thrusting back in. Hard and steady, knowing that you’ll likely find your release again, but wholeheartedly chasing his own.

-You lay there blissfully, your legs wrapped around his narrow hips while you whine and shake and gasp. Like time does not exist, only the feeling of him filling you so well, again and again and again.

-Until his fingertips dig into your sides, and his pace falters slightly.

-His own voice, ragged and broken, cursing, calling out for you.

-Your eyes, hazy and dazed, meeting each other in the darkness.

-Your second orgasm, ripping through your body as he spills himself into you. Making an utter mess of your used, sloppy pussy.

-Leaning down until he can all but collapse on top of you, his hair sticking to his damp forehead as he rests it on your tummy.

-Both of you, catching your breath for a couple minutes, before smiling elated at each other, realizing what you’ve done.

-The night did not go as planned, you think. -But it’s definitely gone better.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #though it's more of a bullet point story #i feel like my specific tastes are very on show when someone gives me an open ended prompt like this #requests are open

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

Hiii ! Here to request again lol ! These are just some ideas, but part 2 to the mafia dream meeting you or like, the two other units meeting you (doesn't matter if you're in the mafia too or not) pleaaase ?

✰ 𝕞𝕒𝕗𝕚𝕒!𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ✰ | seeing you again after you met in the middle of a mission

     This is a part two to another reaction I did a while back! Under different circumstances, you and the boys are once again brought together. My mafia works often contain violence, blood, alcohol, & other similar themes, although none in excess. Please always feel free to reach out with specific questions & about what content warnings you’d like in the future! I’m trying to catch up on requested content & drafts! Thank you for your patience & support.  Enjoy~

     Check out part one or my m.list!

Mark

     When you met him, he essentially saved your ass and you were grateful for the head start he gave you. After your former best friend amassed gambling debt with an organized crime group, she disappeared and left you to be collateral. Mark should’ve taken you, but he offered you a warning instead.

     He didn’t need to tell you twice. It’s been a few months since he showed up in your apartment to kidnap you and you’re living in a new city, under a new name, with the upmost caution at all times. 

     You’re cooking dinner in your temporary apartment when you hear someone kick at your front door. Knowing you only have a moment, you snap into action and run to your bedroom. They’re in the apartment in seconds, just behind you. 

     “Y/N!” a man screams. “You did a good little job evading us, but your fun’s over now! Are you we gonna do this the easy way or the hard way? I won’t hurt you unless you make me.”

     Your fingers tremble, but you force yourself to focus. There’s too much at stake. And you can hear another pair of feet behind him. I can do this, you think. No big deal.

      The man takes a step down the hallway toward your room, then a voice behind him makes you gasp. “Leave her alone, dude. We talked about this.” 

     There’s absolutely no way, but you know it’s him. 

     “I want my money and I’m gonna get it, you prick. Don’t get in my way.”

     Mark sighs. “That would be a mistake.”

     “I’ll ask for your forgiveness with a load of cash in my hands, then.” The man takes another step toward your doorway. He’s close now. Mark doesn’t say anything else. He’s just going to let him come for you. “Little birdie, where are you?”

     When he steps into your view, you’re ready. The gun fires and hits home, causing him to stagger back against the wall in shock. And drop his own gun. You dash forward, kicking it far away from him. “Get out of my fucking home before I put one in your skull. And leave me the hell alone. I didn’t do anything! Go find her instead of me, ass hat. She’s in fucking Madrid, if you need any direction.”

     His face clenches in fury as he turns and walks away, cussing you out under his breath. You cock the gun again, because there’s still another man you don’t fully trust in your apartment. “That goes for you, too, Mark.” 

     “I was here to look out for you!” he says, stepping into your view.

     If you pulled the trigger right now, it would hit his sternum. “Jack shit that did. Try harder next time.” 

     “Okay,” he says, conceding. “I’ll get them off your tail for good this time, but you should move again just to be safe, all right? I hear that Costa Rica is gorgeous.”

     “I’ll be going somewhere else that you’ve never heard of. Now, go. And thanks, I guess.”

     He turns. “Yup, of course. Always a pleasure catching up with you, Y/N.”

Renjun

     The morning after raiding one of his enemies’ mansions, he’s shaving his face over the custom made onyx countertop in their master bathroom when one of his colleagues knocks on the door. 

     “Renjun!” she says. “You’re going to want to see this. Meet us in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

     Hastily, he rinses the leftover shaving cream off his face, drying it with one of their hundred dollar towels—damn, he seriously needs to invest in some of these—and throwing open the door to catch her before she leaves. “I’m ready. Explain while we walk.”

     “So everything went perfectly last night and the Yangs are no longer an obstacle for our operations,” she explains, the inevitable “but” at the back of her throat. Renjun can feel a catch coming as they take the stairs. “Well, almost everything. Apparently, a housekeeper was unaccounted for and she’s rather intent on obtaining the Yangs’ whereabouts. We thought it best not to tell her that their bodies are sunk in the Han river without your input.”

     Renjun opens the French doors separating the foyer from the kitchen. “Hello again, sweetheart. A moment alone with her, please.” 

     “What the hell did you do to them?” you cry, struggling against the ropes that bind you to a chair at the breakfast table. “I want to see them!”

     He sits down across from you, interlacing his fingers on the dark wooden table. “Look, you’ve put me in a tricky situation. I told you to drop it, yet here you are. What am I supposed to do with you now, hmm? If I let you go, will you contact the authorities?”

     “Immediately.” 

     Renjun puts his head in his hands and takes a moment of silence. His next words come out muffled. “You’re supposed to at least pretend to say ‘no.’ Haven’t you ever watched a crime show before?”

     “Screw you!” You thrash some more. “You won’t get away with this, you monster.”

     One hand goes over his heart. “Now you’re hurting my feelings. The Yangs are much worse than me, I assure you. You won’t make this simple for me, will you?” 

     “Go to hell.”

     “Okay, great,” he says, “so I believe you’re going to have to stay with me for a little while until we come to a more civil agreement. What kind of arrangements shall I prepare for you? I have a very nice guest room in my home.”

     “My family will go to the police.”

     “I’ll take care of that, don’t worry. They won’t know anything happened. Is there anyone else I should contact on your behalf?”

     You stare, defiant.

     “If you prefer them to end up wrapped in this mess and in the ground, that’s fine, as well.”

     You huff. “My best friends. You’ll see our group chat in my contacts. One of your girls took my phone already, so.”

     “There we go,” he coos, leaning forward. “You’re learning to be good.”

Jeno

     It’s a week night and you’re sitting on the couch watching a movie that’s not very interesting. When your doorbell rings, you frown and set your bowl of soup down on a side table. You aren’t expecting anyone, but you answer anyway.

     It’s the boy from the mobster-sister-revenge-killing situation you got caught in the middle of and tried to block out completely. Your eyes scan the area behind him to see if he’s brought anyone else. “What are you doing here?”

     “Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he says, hands shifting in the pocket of his blue zip-up hoodie. He looks so mundane, standing in your doorway in the moonlight, for a sophisticated criminal.

     You start to ease the door shut. “You can’t be here. That was like a one-time thing—letting you come here to rest and eat—because you looked like hell and, honestly, I was still in shock, but you’ve got to go now.”

     “Wait, please,” he says, his voice gentle enough to bring up a wave of sympathy for him. You nod. “Thanks. I just—did you go to the police about me?”

     That’s not what you were expecting. “Uh, no? That was like a month ago. Why would I call them now?”

     “Okay, awesome. Somebody else must’ve seen what happened, then. I had to know if it was you. I couldn’t believe you’d do that.”

     You cross your arms. “You don’t even know me. But, no, I didn’t say anything and I’m not going to. It’s over. So, if you don’t mind . . . good night.”

     “Yeah, right,” he says sheepishly. “Good night, Y/N. Thank you for everything.”

     The way he almost seems shy and unsure of himself makes your brows furrow. Is this actually the same guy who claimed to be a gang member? “Yeah, whatever. Are you, like, okay? You’re acting weird.”

     “No, it’s nothing.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s just, do you think we could maybe, like, go out sometime or something?”

     “No!” you say. “I don’t go out with gang members, dude. It’s not gonna happen.” 

     There’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. “Never? Not even if I took you to eat somewhere nice?”

     “Okay, maybe next Friday.” A smug expression dominates his entire pretty face. “Go! Leave before I change my mind. Seven o’clock!”

Haechan

     Since the stunningly attractive boy approached you outside a cafe two weeks ago, your life has brightened up considerably. Your friends have caught you jumping in excitement each time your phone buzzes and smiling at your phone. It should be embarrassing how much you’re starting to like him, but you simply can’t help it. He’s just so goddamn charming.

     You’re waiting for him to pick you from your front steps. There’s already a grin on your face and butterflies in your stomach. When his car pulls into the driveway, you wave. 

     To your surprise, he steps out of the car. “You look beautiful.”

     “Thank you,” you say, blushing as he opens the car door for you. “I like your shirt.”

     It’s a patterned button-up that suits his figure well. As you head toward the mini golf place, you feel like a fool for a second when you realize how crazy he must think you are. You won’t stop grinning and you’re already in the palm of his hand, but you barely know him. 

     Then you catch him looking over at you the exact same way, smiling to himself. “I think I should tell you now that Haechan is a nickname, not my real name. Can’t start this off with dishonesty.”

     “Oh? And what’s your real name?”

     “Can I trust you?” After your easy nod, he shares a conspiratorial look with you. “It’s Donghyuck.”

     “A pretty name for a pretty boy,” you say, pointing to a flashing sign. “That’s the place on the right.” 

     He pulls the car into a spot near the front of the dirt lot, cutting the engine and turning to you. “Tell me, was it the sister-in-law in the end?”

     “Yes, it was!” You’re flattered he remembered the topic of your very first conversation. “I’m reading the sequel now. The main character got help from a childhood friend and she’s still running for her life.”

     When you glance over at him, you expect to find the polite but ingenuine interest most have whenever you mention books, but his full attention is on you—and it’s not just to be polite. In this moment, you think to yourself, god, how did I get so lucky?

Jaemin

     After a stressful week of laundering money and evading capture by his enemies, Jaemin is happy to finally have a day off. He’s come to try a new coffee shop that he researched on the internet. When he saw the pictures of the interior and the latte art, he knew he had to come here. 

     The person ordering in front of him steps aside, so he clears his throat and looks up at the menu board handwritten in chalk. 

     “Hi, what can I get started for you today?” Your eyes meet and you stare at one another, dumbfounded. “Oh, it’s you.”

     “And it’s you,” he echoes. “I didn’t know you were a barista! I’m glad to see you back in superb health.”

     Your tone is light. “No thanks to you. What can I get you?”

     “Surprise me. As long as it’s heavily caffeinated and dairy-free.”

     As you punch in the information on the tablet register, you hold a smile. “This one’s on me. Consider it payback for the free check-up.”

     “Thank you.” He watches you scribble something onto a cardboard cup, moving along the counter with you as you make his drink. “How have you been?”

     “I’m fine,” you say. “I’ve been working a lot, but I love my job, so it’s not so bad. You?”

     He leans against the counter. “Lots of work for me, too. This is my day off, actually. How long have you been working here? This place is so cool.”

     “Almost a year now. I started out doing all the menu art.”

     Jaemin catches another glance of the chalkboard, with its loopy writing and shaded drawings. “Oh, wow. You’re good.”

     “Thanks.” You hand him a cup over the counter. “Here, it’s a red velvet latte with oat milk. Enjoy.”

     Your hands touch as he accepts the drink. His hand is warm. “Excellent drink, excellent customer service. I’ll have to come here more often, I think.”

     “I’ll look forward to it,” you say. “Until next time . . .”

     “Jaemin.”

     “See you around, Jaemin.”

Chenle

     That night, he really believed there could be something between you two. If it hadn’t been for his mission to catch a target, he would’ve spent the whole night with you. Alas, his business card and a flirty grin is all he left you with. 

     Honestly, the fact that you never called hurts his ego. Chenle thought he had you in the bag. Her loss, he thinks to himself as he sips a glass of expensive wine on his yacht. It’s been three weeks and not a whisper from you. 

     A noise from the dock gets his attention. “Mark! It took you long enough, man.” 

     He stands up and puts his glass down on the coffee table, ready to embrace his friend, but the sliding door shatters and shards of glass rain down on him. Everything happens too quickly—someone’s in the room with him and he’s on the ground. Looking up, his eyes narrow. 

     You smile down at him, but the look is evil. “Sorry I didn’t call. Been busy.” 

     “Don’t tell me I’m about to have to kill you,” he says, masking his surprise as best he can, “it’d be such a shame to watch the light go out of those pretty eyes.”

     “Relax, I’m not here to kill you.” You reach for his wine glass and take a long swig, then put it back on the table. “I’m just going to need the keys to this boat. Oh, and your little Tesla out there, too.”

     Sitting up, he runs his tongue over his lip and gives you a nasty glare. “So you aren’t working for Crystal Company after all. Who are you working for?” 

     “Don’t worry yourself with that,” you say, voice smooth as velvet as you examine the contents of a bookshelf, pocketing a few odd figurines. “And don’t move again or I’ll introduce this machete to your kidneys.”

     “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll pay you double.” Chenle crosses his arms, reaching for his wine. You lift your weapon, but he puts an arm up. “Just trying to relax . . . Y/N, wasn’t it? You obviously have a valuable skillset. I’d like to have you on my team.” 

     Knocking the wine out of his hand and onto the floor, you grab his chin, forcing him to look in your eyes. “I’m listening.” 

     “How much are they paying you?”

     “I want two hundred thousand,” you say, to which he nods. “And, I’d like the Tesla.”

     Chenle rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever, now let go of me before I change my mind and let you rob me instead. You know, you were really smart. Hiding in plain sight during that ball.”

     “My intellect is all yours now, for a rather generous compensation, and perhaps a nice dinner?” 

     He stares at you, then laughs. “Are you flirting with me? After you just tried to steal my shit? Unbelievable.”

     “Fine, I like a challenge.”

     “Then you’ve come to the right place.” 

Jisung

    Jisung’s face remains expressionless. “How did you find my address?”

     “I did internet research,” you say dismissively. “Anyway, I came to ask for your help.” 

     “Okay?” His confusion is transparent. He motions toward the bench on his front porch. “Do you want to sit?”

     The both of you settle next to each other in uneasy silence. “Will you testify in court about the night I was attacked?” 

     Instantly, a thousand thoughts swim through Jisung’s head, most of them screams. He knows that getting anywhere near the law is a bad idea for someone like him, should they get even slightly curious about his background. Plus, he was literally out searching for a person he kidnapped that night. 

     “Umm, I’m not sure,” he says, tensing. “So it’s going to trial soon, then?”

     You nod. “Three weeks. I want justice for what she did to me. You’re the only other witness. Please, I really need you. My story won’t make sense without you and they might subpoena you regardless once everything comes out.”

     “Shit, they definitely will. Look, I wasn’t up to my best behavior before I ran into that night, so we’re going to have to figure out that part of the story. It won’t make me look good.” 

     “My attorney can help,” you assure. “She’s really good and you’re not the one on trial. She can prep you. This really means a lot to me, so I appreciate it. Here, take this.”

     He lets you put the sticky note in his hand. “Is this . . . ?”

    You stand as if to go. “Her number is the second one. Mine’s the first. In case you need anything. You did literally save my life, so it doesn’t really matter to me if you were out buying pot or something before you did it.”

     “Close enough,” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow about getting our story straight?”

     “That works. Thank you! Seriously.” You’re on the sidewalk now. “Good night, Park Jisung.”

     “Did you find my social security number while you were investigating me, too?” 

     Your face is taken over by smugness. “I was totally gonna use it to blackmail you into testifying if you hadn’t agreed.” 

     “Now you know I won’t ghost you,” he jokes. “Good night!”

#nct #nct dream #nct mafia #nct mafia au #nct mafia reaction #nct reaction #nct dream reaction #kpop #kpop reaction #mark lee #huang renjun #lee jeno #haechan #lee donghyuck #na jaemin #zhong chenle #park jisung

[daisies-and-domming]

Movie Night for Two (Can I Call it a Date?) (SFW)

Summary: Steve can't make movie night - normally you’d be sad but alone time with the girl of your dreams is just what you're looking for.

Warnings: swearing, confessions, vague hints at past homophobia, fem!reader

Let me know if you think I missed anything!!

All characters are over 18 :)

Steve Harrington is a good wingman ;) Considering making a second part where Robin and reader get it on… lmk if that’s an interest :P

– – –

Honestly, you were kind of pissed at Steve. After the embarrassment he was when applying to Family Video alongside you and Robin, you had organized a weekly movie night to “inject some culture into his veins” (Robin’s words, not yours). Now you're here, alone with the girl you've been crushing on for ages, and the only warning you get from Steve is a phone call saying he “can't make it”. No explanation, no reason, no nothing. If this was Steve’s way of telling you to make a move you swear you're going to stab him through the next time you see him.

Despite all the angry feelings you were currently harboring for Steve, a little part of you couldn't help but be grateful. Alone time!! With Robin!!! it was screaming like you weren't already hyper aware of the scenario you've gotten yourself into.

“-lo? Helloooo, y/n, you in there?? Yoo hoo, this is Robin, calling from planet Ear-”

You flail at her, face flushing. 

“Hello, commander Robin,” you say, making a face at her, “How can I help you?”

Trying her best to hold back a smile, she responds, “Well, cadet, I was asking a certain someone if they wanted to watch the movie, but for some reason they seemed to have found their way out of the atmosphere and into lala land.”

You blink back at her, a little shocked you missed it. “Yeah, I'd love to. Sorry I'm space-y, I'm just pissed that Steve ditched last minute.”

An unreadable look crossed her face before she stuck her bottom lip out, faking a pout. “How dare he. Doesn't he want to spend the night with two gorgeous ladies and watch an incredible movie?”

You both snort, and she motions you towards the couch, where a plethora of snacks are already strewn about. You plop on the couch next to her and let out a little sigh, reveling in the way her face scrunched up when she was focused. 

Cheering when the movie finally slid in, Robin sank into the couch next to you. Children of Paradise was one of Robin’s favorite movies (you had watched it with her about a thousand times) but you couldn't bring yourself to stare at anything but her. Even in her dumb pajama set and no makeup, Robin was stunning. You felt a little guilty not watching the screen - Robin loved this movie, and sharing it was clearly important to her, even if she had already made you watch it on repeat - but the light from the TV practically made her glow, and you didn’t realize she had noticed until she started making faces at you.

“I swear if you just missed the best scene in the movie because you’re staring at me-”

“I’m not staring!!” you retort, continuing to stare. “I’m just… admiring, is all.”

She snorted, but the flush that overtook the rise of her cheekbones indicated that she didn’t seem to mind. “Whatever, dorkus. That just means you have to watch it again next week when we tie Steve up so he can’t ditch us again.”

“Of course, of course,” you said, sending her a grin. “As you wish, m’lady.”

She gasped, throwing a hand to her chest. “M’lady? What am I, some sort of dashing young damsel?”

“Uh, duh,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I wouldn’t fall in love with just anyone, y’know.”

She whipped her head in your direction, blinking rapidly. Shit, that was not supposed to come out of your mouth. “You’re just my best friend and I love you very much- like platonically!! And sometimes words come out wrong, and I can’t control my brain - like right now - and I’ll accidentally say something that offends the other person and I’m so sorry and-”

“Would you say that to Steve, ‘accidentally?’” Robin said, staring you dead in the eyes. “Or would you mean it when you said it to him?”

It was your turn to blink at her. “If you think I have any intention of hitting on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington I’d like to remind you that our relationship is platonic, like platonic-”

“-with a capital P, I know,” she said, looking away. “‘m sorry, I got carried away, let’s just finish the movie.”

Her eyes flicked back to the screen, but even you could tell she wasn’t paying any attention. You fidget, unsure. Steve had been telling you for weeks to confess to her and get it out.

“If she says no at least you’ll know,” he’d said, like it was the easiest thing to confess to someone of the same sex who could potentially never talk to you ever again. You’d moved cities to escape rumors and hatred, you had reminded him at the time. Asking a lady out also meant coming out, and you were starting to like your Hawkins friend group, thank you very much.

Your eyes flicker back to Robin, who looked just as uncomfortable as you felt. Fuck it, you thought, I came out to Steve motherfucking Harrington, this is nothing.

Except it was something. Because, sure, coming out to the stereotype of ‘straight white boy’ wasn’t a walk in the park, but this was your dream girl for fuck’s sake. 

“Hey, Robin?” you whisper, testing the waters. “Yeah?” she whispered back, uncharacteristically quiet.

“I meant it,” you said, a little more confidently. “I meant what I said earlier.”

She stiffened, and you felt panic bubble in your stomach, but you refused to let that stop you. “I don’t understand-”

“Yes, you do,” you said, staring her right in the eyes. “Robin Buckley, I’m in love with you. And I know it’s not ‘normal,’ or whatever, to like girls, but I can’t help it, and if you never want to talk to me ever again, I understand, and honestly I can’t believe I told Steve before I told you-”

“Steve knows?” she shrieked, like that was the most appalling part of your whole monologue. “Steve knows and he didn’t even try to tell me you liked me back?? That two-timer! That ungrateful sack of shit! I dropped all those Nancy hints for him and he didn’t even give me a hint!!”

Time stopped. She gawked at you, flushing under your gaze. “...back?”

“Uhm, yeah, haha, I super-like girls too, y’know, just a big ol’ lady lover-”

You reach across the couch and pull her closer to you and she stops, staring up at you. You run a thumb over her lips, and she nods like her life depends on it, letting you lead her into a kiss. While it didn’t feel like fireworks like the movies pretend it does, kissing Robin was like coming home after months of being away. It felt safe. Like nothing else mattered. Like there wasn’t a kid with superpowers and giant demon-like creatures out to get her. Like maybe your life might actually be going somewhere.

She pulled back, a cunning grin on her face. “Me thinks Stevie-poo owes Dustin twenty dollars.”

You snort, knowing exactly where this was heading. “They were betting on us and you knew about it??”

“Correction,” she said, booping your nose. “They were betting on you confessing to this ‘mystery person who you totally know Robin but we can’t tell you’- wait, does that mean that Dustin knew before me too??”

“He’s always with Steve!!” you say, face bright red. “And I mean I’ve been part of this psycho babysitter club thing we have going forever, he’s like a little brother to me.”

“Oh my god,” she murmured, giggling. “We’re so stupid.” “The dumbest,” you agreed. “Want to make up for lost time?”

“Are you kidding?” she said, grinning. “Hell yeah I do.”

Word Count: 1289

#robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #stranger things x reader #i'm just a beautiful gorl in a beautiful gworld #this woman owns my heart #stranger things

[gingerteaonthetardis]

WIP Telephone: "Truth Serum"

if you don't want to see what might become an increasingly long tumblr post, feel free to block the tag "WIP telephone." (i'll also be tagging it "long post," just in case. don't want to clog up people's dashes.)

tagging: @saecookie. you can add a hundred words and pass it along, or keep it for yourself. your choice!

in this one, nine has a little crush, jack is smug, and rose finds out about it. hope you have fun with this, dear! also, i'm giving you literally everything i have for this one, so it's loooong. i'm gonna put a lot of it below the cut, just for the sake of everyone's dashes.

-

Three bodies spilled into the TARDIS, limbs tangled in a way that was almost certainly illegal on several planets—fortunately not on this planet, but that wasn’t exactly a glowing recommendation, to Rose’s way of thinking. One body bobbed in the middle, and two others were gripping his torso like twin octopodes. 

“—what you expected me to do, Jack, he spiked your drink,” the Doctor griped, long arms slung around two pairs of shoulders, his body sagging heavily toward the grating. There was something slightly off about the angle of his limbs: like his legs were walking of their own volition, in a manner almost entirely disconnected from the intentions of his brain; his arms were stiff and mechanised. “You two can stop dragging me ‘round now,” he added mildly. “I’m only acting pissed. I think.”

Over his drooping, leather-clad shoulders, his two companions exchanged a look.

“Not sure, actually. But either way, I’ve got the full use of my legs. D’you know, Rose,” he announced, changing tack entirely as the pair released him, “these legs—well, not these legs, my legs—won a competition once. Best Gams in the Galaxy. Not bad for a biped.”

“Really.” Rose’s voice came out flat, but behind the staggering alien’s back, her face was anything but. Brows furrowed with worry, she nibbled her bottom lip to avoid biting her nails from nerves. She watched his uneven movements with a strained eye.

“You don’t sound impressed.” The Doctor sounded petulant, and he looked up with an expression that, on a face with different features, might have been a pout. 

“I am impressed,” Rose shot back automatically, exchanging another quick look with Jack, who winked. She reiterated. “You’re very impressive.” It seemed she was alone with her worry. Once the TARDIS doors had closed behind them, the Captain’s handsome face had morphed from an expression of tight fear to a slow-growing smirk, as if he was in on some sort of joke, the likes of which Rose clearly didn’t comprehend.

The Doctor's expression remained glum while he circled the Time Rotor. "You don't have to patronize me. I can tell when you're lying, you know."

Crossing his arms over his broad chest, Jack interrupted. “I think we’re getting a bit off topic, Doctor. I’m still not rightly sure why you felt the need to take several spiked shots on our behalf. Couldn’t we have just dumped them?”

The Doctor snorted. “Not if you wanted to leave this planet alive. I had to make them think we’d all gotten dosed, or they’d’ve followed us, yeah?" He frowned down at the sea of buttons before flicking one, with more force than necessary. "Anyway, I couldn’t let anything happen to you two, could I?”

“And what… what would’ve happened?” Rose asked, rounding the console. “If we’d drank them?” The Doctor didn’t answer immediately and instead keeled in the vague direction of a different button; it was only Rose’s sudden grip on his arm that kept him from collapsing onto the panel and depressing all of the buttons. “Doctor,” she insisted, or pleaded. The two were largely the same, when it came to him.

The Time Lord’s face worked for a moment as he attempted to conjure an answer—presumably one that wouldn’t scare her. But though he looked dismayed, his reply came in a sudden, easy rush. “The toxin would have rapid-boiled your internal organs, beginning with your esophagus and moving on to the rest of your digestive system before seeping out into your abdominal cavity, poisoning the rest of your body from there. You would’ve been dead within the hour.” The moment the words were out, he grimaced.

“Right,” Rose said faintly.

When she turned to look back at him, Jack was still unbothered, quite amused by the Doctor’s gruesome explanation. Strange. “Charming,” Jack quipped. “And what’s the toxin’s effect on you?”

The Doctor shot a furious look over Rose’s head, and the force of it nearly pushed her a step back. He suddenly looked stone cold sober, like the drunken stumbling really had been an act. But instead of moving away, she squeezed her hand around his forearm again. “You’re gonna be okay, right?”

His gaze dropped to hers, and there was a look in it like fear.

“For me, it appears to mimic the effects of what humans would call a truth serum,” he ground out. His throat bobbed, pulling her eye; he was nervous. “I will be completely fine, so long as I am isolated and not asked any questions that could jeopardize the safety of the universe or reveal any private—” but it must not have been a terribly strong truth serum, because his teeth snapped together, a flash of feral white. “Just don’t ask any questions.”

Jack, however, was already out to cause mischief, flopping down over one of the jump seats as if it was a chaise lounge. “Why not?” he goaded, grin sparkling.

“Because it’s invasive, that’s why,” the Doctor growled, breaking out of Rose’s grip to go loom over Jack, presumably wearing an expression of pure menace. “Honestly. I could fit your sense of ethics into a thimble. Don’t make me regret saving your worthless hide, Captain Jackass.”

“You love my worthless hide.”

“Be that as it may,” the Doctor answered through clamped teeth. “I’d prefer to express those sentiments of my own volition.”

The console room fell silent—so silent that Rose could hear her own rabbit-quick heartbeat in her chest and the pop of her lips as they parted in surprise. She couldn’t seem to un-glue her feet from the grating to get between them, for all they looked on the cusp of a fight. But should she get between them? She couldn’t help reading the tension in the Doctor’s shoulders, the grin creeping over Jack’s mouth, as perhaps indicative of… 

Something—something she’d never imagined might exist between them.

Rose’s stomach dropped.

But the unnatural hush was shattered by the sound of fists beating against the TARDIS doors. Angry fists. “Open up,” one harsh, not-quite-American sounding voice commanded. “I am a registered Agent with the Time Agency, and you are in violation of—”

Barely a second later, the Doctor was lurching back toward the console, throwing out commands. “Looks like they followed us anyway. Jack, get over here and on the controls. We’re leaving this planet.”

“What?” Rose cried, finally finding her voice again. It seemed to leap straight up from her belly, a gasp more than anything. “No! You’ve been drugged, Doctor—no, you’re not flying anywhere. You’re under the influence! I mean, is that even legal?” She didn’t realize she was shouting until both men looked up from the console, dismayed and confused as her words echoed over the high ceiling.

“Rose,” the Doctor began.

She shook her head. “You told me that nobody could get through those doors. The TARDIS will keep us safe,” she asserted, jaw set. “You need to go lay down until this—this drug goes through your system. You’re barely on your feet as it is, staggering all over like a drunken bum on New Year’s Eve. We’ll—we’ll get you to the infirmary and—I mean, I don’t know how to work an IV drip, but I’m sure you can talk me through it—”

“Rose,” Jack laughed.

“No, Jack, I’m serious. He’s—this could be dangerous!” Rose knew she sounded shrill, but she couldn’t help it. Dozens of conflicting emotions roiled inside of her, twisting her stomach and tightening around her throat. Concern for his well being clambered over top of disappointment, and curiosity, and uncertainty. And her usual feelings towards the Doctor—fondness, desire, something stronger than even those—reared up, manifesting as a sort of senseless panic.

“Rose,” the Time Lord cut in, mouth quirking. “While I appreciate the concern, I’ll be fine in a few hours. I can metabolize the toxin, no trouble. Got superior biology, me.” And he gave her that look, a crooked smile that made her insides twist.

She fought the urge to reach out and grab his arm—to touch him again and ground herself. She wasn’t sure if it was a good idea, or if it would be welcome. Something in that realization stung.

Still, Rose managed to swallow down her worries and step closer. “Promise?”

His smile spread wider, hitching on one side. “Promise,” he replied, voice low. Low and only for her. She couldn’t mistake it—she heard the fondness there in his tone. She couldn’t possibly be mistaking it, could she? His blue eyes shimmered in the dull green light, and she had to look away lest her lips begin to wobble.

“Well, I still think we should take every precaution," she said, her own arms crossing in determination. "You can’t go straight to sleep—someone should stay up with you for a few hours, make sure you don’t take a turn for the worse.”

“You just said he should lay down.” Jack sounded smug, and she fleetingly thought about tossing him out the TARDIS doors to the mercy of the Time Agents. I’d prefer to express those sentiments of my own volition. Of course he was smug; the Doctor fancied him. And now they all knew it.

“Yeah, on a gurney. Where we could keep an eye on him.”

“I’m still here, you know,” the Doctor said drily.

Decision made, Rose looped her arm through his. “For now. Jack, help me get him to the media room. We can—I dunno, watch a film or something. So we don’t have to talk, but you,” she said, looking pointedly at the Time Lord, “don’t fall asleep.” 

Jack, looking quite pleased with himself, took the Doctor’s other arm obediently. “You two can stay up as late as you like,” he informed her as they collectively wobbled down the hall. His voice was entirely too cheerful. “But I’ve had a brush with death tonight, and I’m knackered.” The way his accent stretched out the syllables of it—knaaackered—made Rose giggle despite herself.

“Fine,” she agreed. “I’ll stay up, then.”

“Rose, you don’t have to—”

Under her hand, she felt the Doctor’s arm twitch. And he leaned to the side, like a bough swaying in the breeze. He may have been acting like everything was fine, but it wasn't. 

She’d stay up all night if she had to.

-

After Jack deposited the pair on the media room sofa—a massive, plush thing with plenty of room for all of them, plenty of room to leave between them—with only a quick wink and an off-handed salute, Rose felt uncomfortable in a way she hadn't expected. It was like she was the one off balance, careening. And she felt a compulsion to speak. To fill the quiet. Beside her, the Doctor was still and slightly slouched; he looked very, very tired. 

She scrambled for something to say before settling on, "What film would you like to watch?"

But he only answered in a dull sort of voice, "I don't have a preference."

Rolling her eyes, Rose reached over and nudged his arm. "Yeah, you do. You always have a preference."

"No," he shot back, "I pretend to have a preference, because I like arguing about films with y—"

His mouth snapped shut again, and she watched a tendon in his throat bulge with the force of it. Practically grinding his teeth, he looked away from her and at the dark television screen.

"Just pick something," the Doctor sighed.

Guilt bloomed in her stomach. How could even this, something as innocuous as picking a film, be a point of contention? How much was he holding back—all the time—if even watching a film wasn't safe? Dejected, she picked up the remote and, instead of picking from the TARDIS's massive digital and physical and even holographic collection, just flicked on the telly and began channel surfing.

And she tried to stay quiet. She really did.

But it was just that the silence felt oppressive, gaping—the garble of static as the TARDIS chased down local signals, the sound of vaguely-American newscasters and commercials for products that didn't exist on Earth: none of it could fill the quiet. The air around them felt heavy, and the longer she sat there—just one cushion over, cross-legged, knee close enough to bump his thigh—the more she could see that the Doctor was struggling.

"Is it… is it hard? Not to talk, I mean."

His eyes slid away from the screen. They glowed bright blue in the dim room, and she felt pinned by them. Cornered, like a frightened animal. His jaw flexed, and then he nodded, once.

“Right. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied—quickly, as if he couldn’t quite stop himself.

Yeah, I do, she wanted to say. But she didn’t; she just watched him turn away, his face once more in sharp profile. The telly jabbered away, some sort of advertisement for an industrial cleaner "rated up to one hundred and sixty decibels." What cleaning products had to do with acoustic power was rather beyond her, but the Doctor watched like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Once more, Rose felt the urge to speak rising in her throat. If she hadn't seen him take the shots himself, she'd probably have thought she was the one dosed with truth serum. "I won't make a thing of it, you know," she said. "You and Jack."

He didn't look at her. He didn't move. The sound of fireworks crackled from the television speakers, light painting the Doctor's face in red—yellow—blue.

She wondered if he wanted to deny it, that there was a thing, and the drug just wasn't letting him.

"I mean, it's good," she pressed on. "Isn't it? You both deserve to be happy."

#WIP telephone #long post #ninerose #ninejackrose #dw fic #timepetals #rose tyler #ninth doctor #captain jack harkness #doctor who

[coulsonlives]

Hi, how's it going? I just saw your post about spoons and how people in this RPC act like you're an ableist asshole over it, and holy shit do I relate, because it's literally happened to me too. Rant incoming, but I thought I'd pass some validation your way... I have a lot of feelings about this.

Like you said, tumblr users have become absurdly brazen with the "you're ableist" accusations towards people with disabilities who are just trying to enjoy a hobby, and trying to ensure their needs are met by making them clear/upfront in their rules. Like, jesus christ... If you have depression or low spoons, and you easily burn out from high partner/character turnover, or if you don't spend a lot of time online, or if you get really disoriented if you log on once a week and see a lot has changed re: your partners' blogs and such, that's a valid concern. It's not being fucking "ADHD ableist" to say you burn out if partners have a high turnover with their blogs or characters, so you prefer to follow people whose blogs and characters are more stable. It's not "ADHD ableist" to say you prefer writing longform posts rather than one-liners. It's not "ADHD ableist" to say you have memory issues, so you can't manage when threads or characters change a lot. That last one about memory is very ironic, because ADHD can literally affect working memory too, sometimes you need to take the exact same approach with it! Anyways, long story short, there's no "right" way to roleplay. My approach to roleplaying isn't going to be compatible with everyone else's, that's just the way it works. But some assholes don't understand that at all, and they throw fists over it, and I just? Stop.

We're not saying "if you roleplay this way, you suck ass", or "this way of roleplaying is better than the rest", or "if you read these rules, you must do as I say because I'm a bossy controlling high-maintenance bitch", but that's literally what the Reactive Outrage Crowd seems to interpret from our rules... Which we've put upfront out of courtesy, before people even interact with us. And I'm sick of it. I've seen it happen to my friends, and it's happened to me, I'm sorry to hear it's happened to you, too, ugh. You can be the nicest person, and you still get shit because people take screencaps out of context or whatever, and they think their disabilities and ND traits give them full license to order us to conform to their own specific needs, which they wrongly believe is the only "right" way to roleplay, so we must conform to them, and them only.

What the hell happened to, "we are fundamentally incompatible as writing partners, so instead of trying to force each other to fit into a mold, which is only going to lead to frustration, let's acknowledge we are too different, and find partners who are more compatible"?!

Honestly, these last few years.

The worst part, in my opinion? How tumblr's RPC is full of petty-ass roleplayers who like to pretend they're inclusive, and understanding of people who are ND or who have disabilities, but as it turns out... They're only accepting if you're the "right" kind of ND or disabled, fuck you if you're anything else.

Are you autistic, and do you have very blunt or direct rules that are formatted in bullet points? Maybe you'll hear, "wow, if I wanted to apply for a job and check off boxes, I'd go on indeed, lmfao" (I wish I were kidding, this has happened). Have health problems and need to explain the specific ways it affects your writing or blog organization, which involves a lot of tag lists and explanations? "Wow, these rules are so long, nobody with ADHD is going to read a textbook, lmaoo." (Yes, I've also seen this.) Prefer not to follow people who are super into one specific fandom, because you don't want to hear about it, or because you don't want a higher likelihood of seeing that content on your dash (due to accidental untagging or something)? "Lmao, this person sounds like a wet napkin".

Are you kidding me?

Some people are so ready to shit on rules and posts that do literally nothing wrong. The only things these rules and posts do is show incompatibility with the person's own roleplaying style, in a totally non-judgmental way. But people equate these rules and posts to ableism and rudeness, because they've gotten it into their heads that their own way to roleplay is the "only way", and then they start stirring up the Outrage Porn mobs. Hey, look everyone, here's the latest in "shitty ableism," let's all stare and wonder wtf is wrong with this person who's done literally nothing even remotely offensive! Like that's not a super fucked-up form of entertainment. And why is it always "ADHD ableist", like you said? I feel bad for the people with ADHD who genuinely don't give a rat's ass about people's rules or finding faults in everything, and who just adhere to the live and let live mindset.

Like… Come on, people. There is nothing wrong with ADHD, or with preferring high-turnover threads or short rules and things... Just like there's nothing wrong with the alternative. Just shut the fuck up with the rules bullshit, regardless of your disabilities, and stop acting like you know what's best for all people and their own disabilities. People who are clearly incompatible with you don't owe you shit, especially if they're not hurting anyone or forcing you to do anything. You need to stop being so entitled and learn how to walk away like an adult. And stop calling everything ableist without it warranting it, because not only are you hurting ND/disabled people more often than not when you use it (sometimes without even realizing it), especially on a website like tumblr, but you're grossly watering down the term, and that's going to bite all of us in the ass one day. You shouldn't be proud of that, you should be ashamed.

Okay, I'm done lol.

(Shit like this is why I don't go on tumblr anymore, for the record.)

This needs to be framed and displayed in the tumblr rp museum of excellence, thank you for saying it

#hi jazz 🥺 #it's going good!! #this is good shit tho really good shit #i want to ask what fandoms this is worst in but i feel like i know the answer lol #i really have nothing else to add #tumblr rpc #ableism ment cw #tumblr rp #bullying

[byeol-ssi]

hi hi byeol!! 17, 22 and 27 for the ask game!! <3 i hope you're having a wonderful day/night !!

mint, my love!! i missed seeing you on my dash, thank you for dropping by and i hope life has been treating you kindly as well! ♡

★ — link to the ask game.

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

aaa, i'm quite excited to talk about the wip i have for xiao!! i got the inspiration and story setting from the kdrama "tomorrow" (내일), where either reader or xiao (or both!) is working as a grim reaper. there are two possible directions that i want the fic to take: one is more light-hearted, and the other just hurt/comfort. i haven't fully committed to one yet, but i'm leaning heavily towards the latter!

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

i'm quite messy, especially with drafts. i write on whatever i can get my hands on (receipts, bills, post-its, pages on my lecture books) before i transfer whatever makes the cut to notion! my notion is much more organized (thankfully) though there are a lot of pending drafts and pages with only a string of sentences.

to those who use tumblr to save their drafts, i have immense respect for your talent — because i'll always be bound to messing up and accidentally post unfinished works.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

my answer is here!

#I JUST SAW YOUR HANDWRITING #it looks so pretty #AND I'M OMW TO READ #THE DILUC LETTER #YOU JUST REBLOGGED #✦ inbox notification. #✦ mini game. #sender ✦ mint ♡

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Fractured Foundation: Chat Blanc

Summary: Since his own akumatization Chat Noir has been the perfect partner. Never questioning, never distracting, never asking for anything at all...

So, why wasn't it enough?

Ch.1 Double Standards

Chat Noir does everything right... But Adrien is still wrong.

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

Ladybugs swirled around him as Chat Noir came back to himself. Scanning his surroundings Chat Noir saw Ladybug helping who he assumed was a de-akumatized Backwarder.

Oh. It was over. The last thing he remembered was-

"Sorry about this Chat Noir."

... A push from behind. His heart spiking in fear. Backwarder's clock hand striking his chest.

"Chat?"

Looking up, Chat Noir held up his fist from touching the spot he was hit. He smiled at her "Bien joue, Ladybug."

"...Yeah. Bien joue." She bumped his fist and shook her head. "I need to go. Bug out!"

Vaulting over Paris, Chat Noir realized he never found out why the old lady was akumatized. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Ladybug won...

Adrien came out of the train's bathroom just as Gabriel did the same. Stiffening at the sight of his father, Adrien gave a slight nod and hurried to his seat. Heartbeat pounding far faster than when he was fighting Backwarder.

Kagami glanced at Adrien and he smiled reassuringly before putting his headphones in. At least he wouldn't have to sit through another lecture from Master Fu this time. Seeing as he'd be in London for the weekend.

Adrien would be in London for the weekend. No Fu, no Papillon, no Chat Noir. The thought made him feel... lighter. Taking his headphones out he turned to Kagami. "Is this your first time going to London?"

"No. Mother has taken me on several other business trips to familiarize myself with the company holdings." Kagami refocused her attention on Adrien. "But I can't say I've been sightseeing."

"Really? What do you want to see first?" Adrien fell into the ease of speaking with Kagami. Let himself enjoy this small moment of normalcy compared to the glorious disillusion of the akuma battle. Leaving Backwarder and Paris behind as the train accelerated.

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

Chat Noir soared over the rooftops. Grinning as the wind blew through his hair. For the first time in... he didn't know how long his heart raced with joy after a battle. He was useful! Sure he had to sacrifice himself so Ladybug could beat Gamer 2.0 but still!

Landing with a flip onto the designated rooftop he waited for Master Fu to show. Just like he did after (almost) every akuma attack. Except this time Chat Noir wasn't dreading it. This time-

The door opened as Master Fu stepped out.

"Master! Did you see... What's wrong?"

Master Fu held a stern expression. "Why did you not talk to Ladybug about what you intended?"

Chat's ears drooped as he pulled in on himself, enthusiasm forgotten. "Wh-what?"

"You sacrificed yourself without speaking to her first!" Master Fu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ladybug might have come up with an alternative."

"But... I..."

"At the very least you should have let her know before you act."

You didn't tell her that when she shoved me onto Backwarder's sword.

Adrien flinched. "... Okay... I'll... tell her next time."

Even though she never tells me.

Satisfied, Master Fu's gaze softened. "You must be mindful of Ladybug's feelings." With that he turned back towards the door. Pausing at the threshold, he glanced back. "It was wise to give Ladybug the last fight."

"..."

Chat Noir dashed across rooftops. Blinking rapidly as the wind blew into his eyes. For a moment he forgot. He forgot that Chat Noir was always wrong. That Adrien didn't get what everyone else did. He wasn't like everyone else. What they did mattered.

... Nothing Adrien ever did mattered. The universe was simply issuing a reminder.

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

Adrien didn't want to be at fencing practice today. He'd fantasized about taking Kagami to Kitty Section's rehearsal with the rest of his friends instead... But if his meetings with the Guardian had a theme it was listening to his... betters.

As though the universe could hear him the akuma alert went off just as he finished changing into his fencing gear. Making sure the rest of his teammates were gone, Adrien transformed and leapt out the window. Hoping Kagami wouldn't be too bored without him.

Quickly going over what information there was on 'Desperada' Chat Noir realized she was last seen at the Couffaine's houseboat. He ran faster.

A pang of longing came over him as Adrien remembered how tempting it'd been to skip practice and join his friends. But that meant disobeying. And disobeying never brought Adrien anything. Not with Father, not with his teachers, not with the Guardian.

Leaping across buildings a cyan blur knocked him five stories to the ground. Rolling with the blow Chat Noir readied his staff. The cyan blur was a lyre that came back to the hand that threw it.

A guy in a vaguely snake-like suit with cyan colored hair. "Sorry, Chat Noir. You would've gotten caught if I hadn't done anything."

To prove his point Desperada appeared and started shooting yellow blasts of magic. Chat Noir spun his staff as he ran for cover. Ladybug's yo-yo wrapped around him and pulled him into the alley. "Good, you're here. Chat, this is Viperion."

"Hello again, Chat Noir." Viperion smiled gently.

"... Hey."

"So what's the plan?" Ladybug asked the new guy.

Chat Noir stared. Ladybug never asked someone else to make the plan.

"Okay, first we need your Lucky Charm..."

In the end it was very simple. Chat Noir and Ladybug dodged Desperada's attacks long enough for Viperion to distract her with music from his lyre. Then Ladybug used the saddle her Lucky Charm gave her to restrict Desperada's movements. All three pulling the villain in different directions while Viperion threw his lyre at her guitar case, breaking it.

There was an extra 'Bien Joue' in their fist bump and then Chat Noir was running back to fencing practice.

...He'd done nothing. Viperion did all the work. And apparently he was so good at it he didn't even need to use his power. Or... was knowing what was going to happen his ability? Is that why Ladybug let him plan?

...Maybe he was reading too much into it. 'Bien joue' felt hollow all the time now. Just because it felt particularly empty this time didn't mean there was a reason besides his own selfish desire to be useful.

Back inside the locker room Adrien detransformed.

The door banged open. Adrien flinched.

"What is the meaning of this transgression, Agreste!?" M. D'Argencourt demanded.

Heart pounding, Adrien fumbled over his words. "I-I can explain!"

"I should hope so! I will have to inform M. Agreste of this behavior." M. D'Argencourt informed him.

Blood drained from Adrien's face. "NO! Please M. D'Argencourt, don't tell Father!"

Eyes softening, M. D'Argencourt shook his head. "I am sorry, Adrien. A student disappearing under my guard and I knowing not where he vanished to? I cannot overlook this."

Cold. Adrien was cold and his mouth moved without words. He collapsed onto the bench behind him. Heart hammering in his ears as he imagined what Gabriel would do...

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

Startrain rocketed into space, Nadja Chamack reporting over the image of the akumatized train. For a moment Adrien merely stood there...

"Hey, kid." Plagg pointed at the container of transformation cheese. "We gotta go help."

"R-right!" Coming out of his head Adrien tossed the purple, potion-infused cheese into the air. "Plagg, powerup!"

Swallowing it in a single bite Plagg glowed as the potion took effect. "Astro Plagg!" Small, glowing wings appeared on his back and his fur was coated with small star-like points.

Opening his mouth to say the phrase Adrien... His throat closed... the words wouldn't come... They wouldn't-

Plagg placed a paw on Adrien's cheek. "C'mon kid, your friends need us."

Friends. His friends were on that train! Finding his voice Adrien set his shoulders. "Astro Plagg, transforme-moi!"

Flying was unlike anything he ever experienced. And Astro Chat was flying faster than anyone had ever gone! Sky darkening as he rose above the atmosphere. Startrain had a head start he needed-

Sunlight lit up the Earth, cloud cover obscuring far more of its surface than was usually shown in photos. It was so blue... so beautiful. Adrien remembered what astronauts said about looking at the Earth from above.

He'd heard. But he hadn't known.

Turning back towards the void Astro Chat zoomed after Startrain. It was already past the moon. The moon which Adrien saw as only a handful of people ever did.

There!

Startrain was slowing down? That made it easier to catch up! Astro Chat's heart raced with excitement, willing his wings to go faster. He was almost there! Just a little more and-

A great, glowing, green portal burst to life directly in Startrain's path. Chat caught a glimpse of Big Ben on the other side and then the train sped through. Portal closing behind it.

Leaving Adrien in the void. Of course. Of course Ladybug already beat the akuma. And if that portal was any indication she had help. He wasn't needed. Wasn't necessary.

His friends were on that train and he couldn't. Do! ANYTHING! He couldn't breathe. Couldn't breathe! Everything was too big and too small! Infinity stretched forever in all directions and he was stuck inside this helmet! He wanted out! Wanted-

No. Focus.

As suddenly as his breath left him it came back. Adrien gasped and forced himself to breathe slowly... He couldn't stay here. There was nothing here.

Slowly, reluctantly, Adrien made his way back to Earth. Oh. Oh. He'd gone farther than he thought. Earth was a speck in the distance.

"A mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam."

Tiny. Insignificant. Precious. An oasis in a desert. The closer you are to something the uglier it looks. Adrien kicked the thought away. It was small and meaningless. If you looked too closely at anything you failed to see the whole picture.

Adrien wondered what the whole of his picture, his world, looked like...

#fractured foundation #adrien agreste #ml angst #ml fanfic #ml fic #adrien angst #master fu #fu salt #ml #miraculous ladybug

[dravid-writes]

Chapter 18 - They finally meet again.

Compass and Beacon are eating lunch. It's only been two days since Alice... 'attacked' Pikachu. Only one team has encountered them since, and they came back with the usual injuries and horror stories. Pikachu still refuses to talk about the incident, and their partner was unconscious during it, so rumors spread about what awful thing Alice must have done.

Beacon breaks the silence. "Alice has been spotted in the western sector of Sinister Woods. Team Lighthouse has decided to pursue them, along with Team ACT. We need to end this before anyone else gets hurt."

'End this'. Compass takes a deep breath. "I want to go."

Beacon looks at Compass in shock. "... Compass, no, it's far too dangerous!"

"I won't fight. I just..." They need to see for themself, and it's now or never.

Beacon considers it. Compass has barely spoken since Alice left, and it's the first time they've spoken at all since Pikachu was attacked. They must really want this. "... Alright. Since you'll have the protection of two Gold Rank teams, and... you of all people deserve to be part of this. Just... promise me you'll stay safe."

Compass nods. "I promise." They've gotten better at lying.

With six people surrounding them, Compass thought it would be impossible to find a chance to sneak off. But when everyone assumes someone else will watch them, it was surprisingly frequent to have no one watching. Except for Beacon. But one chance was all they needed to tip-toe away and dash into the woods. They need to find Thorn.

Compass ignores the desperate shouts of their name from behind, and try to look, listen, find any clue that could guide them to Thorn. They hear what might be the sounds of fighting, and change direction to sprint towards it. They run as fast as they can, until they push through a bush and stop in a clearing, staring at a cubone from behind.

"Thorn!" Compass calls, and the cubone turns to face them. Is it really them..? There's a moment of tense silence before the cubone speaks.

"Oh hey Compass!" The cubone greets. "You here to see me? Sorry, I'm a little busy at the moment." They gesture to the collapsed rescue team behind them. "Just give me a moment, then you can be next."

Compass stares at the cubone. Their smile is too wide, their tone too cheerful. Their helmet is gone, leaving their head unprotected, and they've lost their cloak, leaving them exposed and cold. Their bloodstained, sharpened bone is- No, it's not like the sharpened bone Thorn made before. It looks... broken. "Thorn, what... What happened to you?"

"The name's Alice. Now if you could just wait your turn like an obedient little tool, I have some business to take care of-"

"Thorn, wait! Please, no more fighting. No more hurting. I just want to talk."

"Sure, fine, talk away, but it'll be hard to hear you over the screams." Alice turns and walks toward the rescue team.

"Thorn, stop! Hey! Alice!" But Alice keeps walking. "Alice, please, just listen to me! Please! Thorn, wait!!" Alice gets closer to their victims. "Please, I..." But they aren't listening. And why would they? Compass didn't listen to- No, not the time for that, there's pokemon in danger! They need to... Do they really need to... They shoot a bolt of fire into Alice's back!

Alice stops. They turn around, still with that fake smile. "Shoot, that hurt. Don't wanna wait your turn, eh? Fine by me." They dash forward, but Compass shoots a wave of fire that forces them back.

"Why are you doing this?! Why injure opponents that were already defeated?!"

"Oh gee, I dunno, why do they keep trying to kill me?" Alice lunges in with a slash, and Compass jumps back to avoid it.

"Self-defense would be justified, but you're just acting cruel!" Compass pressures Alice with blasts of flame, keeping them away.

"What can I say? I'm the human. Cruelty is kinda my thing!" Alice grits their teeth and pushes through a flame, landing a solid punch on Compass's face!

When Alice steps forward to follow up, Compass jumps back and spews a smokescreen, hiding within. "You're Thorn!" they say from inside. "I know you, you can't even walk past a pokemon in need without stopping to help-"

"You don't know a darn thing about me." Alice pounces toward the voice, but their blade finds nothing. They're suddenly tackled from the side, knocked away before they stand back up, unfazed. "All that 'Thorn' bullcrud before? That was a trick. THIS is who I really am."

Is it true? Is Thorn really gone? Did they ever exist..? In their distraction, Compass is caught by Alice's punch to the face! As they stumble back, Alice pulls them in and drives a knee into their stomach! Alice lifts them up and slams them onto the ground, leaving Compass a groaning mess. They ready their blade and-

A concentrated blast of fire knocks Alice away! "Get away from my child, monster!" Beacon sprints forward with a punch, and Alice barely jumps back in time. Beacon is joined by the rest of Team Lighthouse.

Worn out from two fights already, Alice makes a run for the brush, but Alakazam, Charizard, and Tyranitar block their path! Team ACT? No way they can win that fight! They run for the other side of the clearing-

Alice barely manages to block the sudden shadow ball that knocks them to the ground. "Kekeh! Bet you thought you'd seen the last of us!" Gengar says as Team Meanies blocks the last exit.

Alice stands and looks around, surrounded by nine opponents. They can't run from Fletchinder and Charizard, and they can't hide from Ekans' sense of smell. "Alice the Human," Alakazam says, "you are surrounded and outmatched. You may either face our might, or surrender peacefully."

Peacefully. Peacefully! They laugh and laugh at the idea that they could have peace! "Are you kidding? You've just given me nine more victims! I'll take you ALL down! None of you stand a CHANCE!!"

Alice looks around, panting, but their opponents just look confused. "W-what, you don't think I can take you?! I'll- I'll rip out your spines and beat you with them! I'll tear out your heart and eat it in front of you while the life fades from your eyes!"

Surprisingly, they aren't scared by Alice's threats. It might have something to do with their voice giving out or the tears falling from their eyes. "Come on! What are you waiting for! I'm the human, the monster, the apocalypse incarnate! The one to off me gets to be the hero! Come on, kill me and end this! I'll spread suffering wherever I go! I'll bring the world to ruin because of my selfishness!! I'll kill you all, just like I killed Gardevoir-"

"Shut the hell up!!" Gengar shouts, and it's the last thing Alice hears before a shadow ball from behind knocks them out.

Compass walks into the room holding Alice's cell. There's no guard, partly because there's no way for them to escape, and partly because no one was willing to do it. Alice is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. "Thorn..."

"Oh hey tool," they say, not turning to look. "Say, when am I gonna be killed? I've been wondering, and there's no one to ask. Didn't even leave a note."

"... Leader Beacon is deliberating what to do with you..."

"Deliberating? Sheesh, just pull the trigger already, we all knew how this was gonna end. Well, if that's all, you can get out now, I've got evil human plans to scheme about or something."

"Thorn, drop the act. This isn't you."

"No way, really? What gave me away?"

"Well, the word 'bullcrud' for one. But just... none of it makes any sense. All that kindness, all that selflessness, all that frustration over why you couldn't remember... And if Thorn really was fake, if you were never really my partner, you... you wouldn't have..."

"Trusted you with the secret that ruined my life, yeah. It's funny; everyone was so willing to accept that I was some cartoonishly evil sadist that says 'bullcrud'. Even you bought it for a moment, but you were always pretty dense."

"Why did you do it? You hate seeing people suffer, so why?"

"I was bored. I felt like playing around, having fun being the villain. It seemed like that's what I was supposed to be; the rotten human, a being of pure evil. So why not? Besides, it's hard to care about people when the world is gonna end... Heh, you know something pretty funny? Even with all this 'Alice' and 'I killed Gardevoir' stuff, I still don't even remember much. Half the stuff I say is totally made up. I don't even remember my partner..."

"... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for betraying you that night-"

"Shut up. Didn't you hear me? I don't care. Not about hurting people, not even about staying alive, and certainly not about you. It doesn't matter anymore. There's absolutely nothing you can say that will make me think of you as anything besides some noisy rat pestering me while I wait to die."

"... I know. I know it's too late, but I need to say it. I'm sorry for running away. For saying you could trust me, and then making that a lie. For refusing to trust you in return. For ruining your life, and... turning you into this. If I had just listened, if I had waited, and trusted you, then maybe we could have found another way... But it's too late now. This is the only way to save the world."

... Alice snickers. Then giggles, then laughs, laughing harder than they've ever laughed before!

"W-what?! What's so funny?"

Alice tries to speak through their laughter. "Sorry tool, it's just that was such a serious statement about doing what's necessary to save the world, it was just... Hahaha! Because yeah, that's what you're doing! That's what this whole gosh darn mess has been about! A human turned into a pokemon, with a dark, mysterious past, a connection to the world's balance, a connection to GARDEVOIR, a partner they abandoned, and a nasty, selfish personality to top it all off! You'd only need half a brain to put it together!"

Compass looks on in utter confusion as tears fall from Alice's eyes. "Thorn, what are you... I don't understand."

Alice's laughter slows down, and they turn to Compass with a tearful grin. "Do you wanna know something REALLY funny?"

#pmd1 #pmd #rescue team

[papofglencoe]

On Bullying and Libel

For the past couple years, I’ve been cyberbullied by a group of women here on tumblr. The bullying has taken many forms, from clandestine solicitations to tumblr users asking them to boycott my stories to publicly mocking me via group post for blocking them to protect myself from their harassment. Last spring, while undergoing IVF, I took a hiatus from tumblr with the hopes of managing my stress levels so that the embryo transfer would go well. Having posted that I was taking a hiatus so that I could surround myself with positivity, one of my bullies went to FF.net to harass me anonymously, calling me toxic, telling me the fandom would be better without me in it, and then mocking me, stating that I would post their words here in order to play victim. The day I received that message was the day I found out I was pregnant with the daughter I would then go on to lose. When I found out that she had stopped growing and had no heartbeat, I blamed myself for this loss for weeks, wondering if my elevated blood pressure and the stress that message had caused me had caused me to kill my own daughter. Maybe saying this will only bring gratification to the bully who sent me that message- well, then congratulations. You took away from me the most important day I would ever have with my girl. One of the only days. That doesn’t make me a “poor, me” victim. It just makes you an evil asshole. 

Fast forward to this past fall. Facing another round of IVF and a successful embryo transfer, I made the conscious effort not to be here- or online anywhere, for the most part. Early in this pregnancy I had a threatened miscarriage, which meant I was on bedrest for a little over a month. I’m also taking care of my furbaby Pippa, who is dying of cancer but putting up a valiant fight. I sleep on the couch downstairs now to be near her, and I get up every couple hours in the night to take care of her. She’s worth every second of lost sleep and every backache. But it’s been a stressful time for me and my husband, and although most people here have been so supportive and wonderful, I’ve made the choice not to be around because my daughter’s life and what little time I have left with my dog, who has been a daughter to me through seven out of eight years of trying to conceive, is too precious to squander because of a few miserable people spreading their misery to me. I apologize to anyone I’ve disappeared on, but survival has been the name of the game. So no tumblr for me. No instant messaging. No facebook. No twitter. It’s a lonely choice, to isolate oneself, but it’s all I can think to do to protect my daughter and hope that it’s enough to bring her into this world. And maybe that’s a completely shit thing to do to some genuinely amazing and good people, but my daughter is my whole world. She is my all and everything. Everything I do, I have to do for her. I hope you understand.       

Anyway, earlier this week AO3 informed me that I had been accused of plagiarizing a novel I had never heard of (”Wallbanger” by Alice Clayton, published in 2013) for my story Against The Wall. Interestingly, one of my bullies posted to tumblr just a few weeks ago that she had read the novel (I was sent a screenshot of this). Entirely coincidental, I am sure. 

After researching the claim, AO3 has dismissed it. As is only right. As many of you know, my story was inspired by a prompt sent anonymously in the spring of 2016 to the Everlark Fic Exchange, a third party blog to which I have no administrative connection. (Thank you to the person who submitted the prompt, by the way, whoever you are.) The only similarity my story shares to “Wallbanger,” from what I have gleaned from reviews, is that the female heroine can hear her manwhore next door neighbor (in that story, the love interest) have loud sex through the wall with one of his three fuckbuddies. She’s an up-and-coming designer in San Francisco, and he’s a traveling photographer. They’re thrown together through mutual friends, and then end up having sex, where, through his manwhore prowess, he helps her find her missing orgasm. And there’s a ton of shit about a cat named Clive, too, I guess, who is supposedly hilarious. And there’s a road trip from Lake Tahoe. And commitment issues caused by shady exes. 

Plagiarism indeed, right? 

Ironically, I have not posted the final chapter and epilogue to ATW for fear of being plagiarized. And I now have absolutely no intention to do so because I am going to protect my intellectual property, come hell or high water, from those who would attack it out of nothing but malice. What I will be doing is converting the story to an original, which I will either have traditionally published or will self-publish, as fate allows. I thank everyone who has supported Against the Wall, and I hope you’ll check it out as an original- but if not, I understand and thank you anyway. Every comment and kudo along the way gave me the confidence to believe in myself and my story’s worth. To be frank, it doesn’t really matter to me if, as a novel, it only ever sells one copy, so long as the story is undeniably and legally mine.  

Which leads me to the next point. Formally accusing someone of plagiarism in writing to a third party is defamation of character. Specifically, it’s libel. To my bullies: you should familiarize yourself with these terms (as well as plagiarism, which you clearly still haven’t mastered the meaning of). When I go to publish my story professionally, if you wish to continue your attacks against me, you should think long and hard about what you want to accuse me of, and why, and with what evidence. If I am accused of plagiarism out of actual malice, which means from a personal vendetta against me and without evidence, I will not hesitate to file suit for defamation of character, seeking pecuniary, general, and punitive damages. It will be my intellectual property and my professional reputation at stake, and, to put it bluntly, I will not fuck around with being bullied by anyone when it comes to my writing. My stories are also my babies, and I will protect them by all means at my disposal. 

To my bullies: if you want to continue throwing your block parties on tumblr against me, go right on ahead. This playground is alllllllll yours. If you need a bogeyman for all your frustrated hopes and dreams, by all means, I can be the ghoul of your fantasies. Ultimately, you only out yourselves as sad, bitter, and obsessed, and I’ve moved onto other things that matter more to me. But, to be crystal clear, if you harass me on AO3, their abuse and legal teams have already been apprised of the situation and will take action against you. And if you harass me as a professional author, you won’t be hearing from me. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. It’s not a matter of “if.” So what I suggest is that you pick up a new hobby. Knitting. Tai chi. Hell, join the goddamn Rotary Club. Find some outlet for your misery that won’t land you in legal trouble. Because you’re fucking with the wrong girl. At some point you’ll have to move onto your next obsession. I say the sooner, the better.   

#if you're seeing this organically on your dash this is not directed toward you #if one of your friends has to send you a screenshot of this because I've blocked you then there's a damn good chance it is #I considered saying nothing at all #but I figured it was best to give fair warning #I won't be bullied and cowed into silence #long post