#I KNOW i'm supposed to suspend my disbelief and I KNOW this is set in a pseudo-50/60s east/west germany analogue | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 2 years ago

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jealousy, jealousy || I.N. x Reader

Summary: Watching the guy you have a huge crush on be a pretend couple with one of the prettiest girls you know for a photoshoot isn't the perfect way of spending your morning, that's for sure.

Who knows though, things might start looking up sooner than you'd expect.

Word count: 3.9k

Genres: college AU, fluff with a little angst, idiots to lovers (but only one of them is an idiot and it's not IN)

Warnings & Tags: reader has anxiety, reader is insecure, someone is verbally unpleasant towards the reader, kissing, Tzuyu from Twice is in this

series masterlist

A/N: So this is part one of my lil project for Stray Kids' anniversary! I've got three one-shots written so far, so I'm confident I'll be able to post the maknae line in the next few days, and then take a couple of days to finish the hyung line or post them as I write them, I'll see. I hope you'll like it!

For this one-shot, please do suspend your disbelief for the way the school work is described in this lol, think of it as an artistic rendition or as something out of one of those shojos that go wayyyy overboard.

The shoot is supposed to start at 10, which means you’re there at 8, and the second you walk through the door you’re already plagued with thoughts that you should have shown up half an hour ago. Even as you’re the only one from your team there, you feel the familiar lump forming in your throat. Your mind goes over everything that needs to be done, everything that can go wrong, everything that is likely to go wrong, and everything you’ll end up taking the blame for.

You force yourself to take a deep breath. You focus on the end of the shoot — supposed to be at noon, but likely to actually be at 2, and it should be around 3 by the time you finish cleaning up —, on how you’ll be able to get back to the quiet of your home afterwards, and on how the atmosphere here isn’t too bad, this early in the morning. You’re not the only one here, you’ve already met the tired eyes of a few of the other students who you suspect didn’t go home last night, but there is something light in the air. You saw the sun rising on the way over and the light is still gently pouring in through the windows.

What a shame this won’t last.

When the others start rolling in, you’ve set up your little corner, just the way you like it. Your lights, your mirrors, your brushes and products, right where they should be so that they’ll fall right under your fingers when you need them. It helps you breathe a little better, but the lump doesn’t go away. It’s alright; you’re used to it by now.

Nari’s the first one to walk in, which isn’t surprising considering she’s the one directing the shoot, and it’s her clothes that the ‘models’ are going to be wearing. That is to say, the students she’s recruited to model for her, just like she recruited you into doing the make-up for her. The two of you aren’t close, not even friends, but you’re good at your job and a bit of a pushover, which makes you the ideal target for that kind of things.

She waves at you with a tense smile, but you know it’s not meant for you, she’s just stressed out. She always is. Unlike you, though, she has a tendency of taking it out on others, and that explains at least half of the tension in your shoulders today.

You need to learn how to say no to people.

Tzuyu, from the dance program, enters next, looking unreal as always. You’ve worked with her a few times before, too. She’s a sweetheart and you know she’ll make your job easier.

The same can’t be said about the next person to make his way through the door, whose apparition you’ve been waiting for since you got here, embarrassingly glancing at the door every few minutes.

Yang Jeongin walks in like he owns the place.

To be fair, he kind of does. Also enrolled in the fashion course, he’s pretty much the go-to when it comes to getting male models. Hwang Hyunjin, from the dance programme, is the second one, mostly because he’s harder to get a hold of — and because, you’ve heard, his girlfriend is pretty scary.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he walks over to your spot. His coat is thrown casually over his shoulder, his walk confident, and stylish glasses that you know he doesn't need rest on the tip of his nose. He died his hair back to black recently, but you can see it’s still damaged from the light pink that was his previous color.

“We meet again,” Tzuyu chimes from her seat, grinning from ear to ear, and Jeongin smiles in response, his expression changing entirely the second he does.

“It’s great to see you, Jeongin,” Nari purrs as she approaches, before she sets her eyes on you. “Are you done with Tzuyu? We really need to get started here.”

You know you shouldn’t let her speak to you like that, you have no reason to, but all you can think about in the moment is to pacify her to ensure that she’ll leave you alone.

“I still need a few minutes with her,” you say, and Nari huffs in annoyance, before her attention is captured by a guy setting up the lights and she power walks over to him.

“Do you want me to tell her something?”

You shoot a surprised look at Jeongin, who’s staring at you with a frown on your face, and you immediately look away. You hope it looks like you’re just focusing back on Tzuyu, and not like your heart jumped up to your throat when you met his eyes.

“It’s fine,” you say, “I know how she gets on shoots. “Just sit down and I’ll be with you in a second.”

He nods slowly, eyes still on you as you busy yourself around Tzuyu, but the tension remains in his jaw, which you don’t miss. It gives you a pang in the chest — shit, you don’t like when people are displeased with you.

It also makes his jaw look really good.

Tzuyu leaves to go appease Nari as soon as you’re done with her, and you’re relieved when she’s dragged away to go put on her clothes.

That doesn’t last, though, because next thing you know you’re a few inches away from Jeongin’s perfect face, and he’s staring straight at you.

You swallow. Then you grab one of your brushes, and you get to work.

“No late night snacks this time?” you ask, half-teasing because the last time you’d worked with him, his face had been somewhat puffy from it.

A smile breaks on his face, and immediately there are flowers blooming in your chest. He can look so serious and unapproachable one second, but as soon as his lips curl and his eyes crease, he’s a whole other person.

“I didn’t want to make your work harder,” he replies. You feel yourself freezing, and then you turn away to grab another product, praying that you didn’t just stare dumbly at him for too long.

“You got started on your take on the modernized hanbok already?”

He hums in reply.

“I have one sketch. You?”

“I’m counting on the rush of adrenaline I’ll get the week before to finish it,” you admit.

You’re too focused to see the curiosity in his eyes when you say that. You do, however, notice him tilting his head, and you immediately correct him, fingers sliding along his jaw to pull him back in his correct place. As you do, you feel him swallowing, and you’re quick to remove your hand.

If you’d been looking, you’d have noticed his ears turning red.

“You were the first one here, though,” he says after a few seconds of silence.

“Oh, yeah, that’s because I don’t want to let people down. I’m the only one who’ll get in trouble if I procrastinate too long.”

And even then, you won’t, you’ll just spend a horrible week telling yourself you’ll never do that again.

You inevitably will.

God, you’re so tired of living with yourself, sometimes.

“You should tell me if you need a last second model,” Jeongin mumbles. He’s careful not to move his lips, but you’ve perfected the art to understand that language over the years. The comment makes you laugh.

“You're always completely booked for shoots on the last week,” you grin. You yourself still give a few hours of your time here and there, though you don’t stick around very long. You know that Nari plans her shoots ahead partly for that reason. It’s kind of flattering, if you think about it.

Someone with her drive and her talent gets to have a shitty personality, you suppose.

“I’ll get Hyunjin to replace me.”

There goes your heart again. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only time you spend with him goes like that, because you’re too cowardly to approach him during class, and it’s not fair that invariably—

“Are you done soon?” Nari shouts from behind the screen she’s put up to make a corner into a changing room.

“Just a few minutes more!” you reply before focusing back on Jeongin. “I’ll think about it,” you tell him, though you know yourself well enough to be able to tell that you’re extremely unlikely to go through with it. Just the drafting of the text would take you hours, and actually sending it? The idea is laughable.

You really wish you were normal with that stuff.

“Don’t move, I’m almost done,” you say, and he goes still, and your heart’s hammering in your chest, but at least he’s no longer saying things you’re at risk of misconstruing.

As he closes his eyes to let you put on the finishing touches, though, you know you’re in for a long day.

“Jeongin, can you put your hand a little lower? Tzuyu, smile with your eyes please? Now tilt your head more to the right? More? Jeongin, look at the camera but like, from the side, from— Okay, two seconds for touch ups, and then we’ll need to get things done a little faster everyone, alright?”

Nari’s forcing herself to smile so much that you think she might cramp. You rush past her to get to Tzuyu and Jeongin, carefully touching up their make up where you need and adjusting a little for the light. You also pat Jeongin’s forehead to catch beads of sweat that formed under the artificial light, and he gives you a grateful nod as you do your best not to think about things you shouldn’t be thinking about.

“We’ll be done soon,” Tzuyu says cheerfully, but even she seems to be forcing her smile at this point. You don’t blame her for it. You do, however, think she’s not being very realistic about how much work they have left.

It’s 11.30 and they’re nowhere near done. The start of the shoot ran late because of Nari’s adjustments to the clothing. After that, there was a heated conversation between her and the photograph over the subject of filters, leading to the guy throwing his hands in the air and quitting on the spot, meaning she’s the only one there. You can tell she’s fuming, and though you have sympathy for that, you’re also pretty terrified of becoming the subject of her ire.

“You’re not messing him up, right?” she asks, glaring at you, and you jump away from Jeongin.

“Sorry,” you say automatically, even though you haven’t done anything wrong. “I’m all done.”

She looks at him critically, trying to find flaws in your work.

“He has a spot on the chin,” she says finally, “seriously, if you don’t get your shit together we’ll never—”

“You don’t speak to her like that,” Jeongin interrupts her, and his voice sounds sharp and cutting.

The air freezes in the room. You risk a glance in his direction. He’s staring straight at Nari, lips curved ever so slightly downwards in distaste.

He also does have a little spot on the chin.

Shit.

Nari’s staring at him, too. She’s paled, and her lower lip is shaking.

“Sorry,” she finally says, voice trembling. “Sorry, I’m j-just— We don’t have that long and— Sorry.”

She looks small and vulnerable, and your heart melts on the spot. You can’t help it.

“It’s okay,” you say, “just give me a second to fix it.”

Jeongin exhales slowly next to you, but you suspect it’s in annoyance, not in relief. Still, he leans towards you to give you better access to his face.

“You don’t have to placate her,” he mumbles, lips barely moving.

“I know,” you reply. “It’s just easier that way.”

He frowns, but doesn’t add anything. For a second, you almost tell him that you wish you could stand up for yourself, that the truth is your ‘freeze’ response strikes you every single time and you can’t figure out what to say, that if you could, you’d—

“All good?” Nari asks.

You give her a nod and, this time, she doesn’t say anything about Jeongin — or about Tzuyu, for that matter. So you walk back to your spot, and you watch as the shoot continues.

You don’t really like watching these. That’s generally true. You have friends who do, who think that ‘this is where the magic happens’, but you know all the magician’s tricks, and that leaves no actual magic for you. Still, you’re needed here. You suppose you could have quit on the spot after Nari’s outburst, but it’s— you can’t actually do that. So you’ll stick it out until the end, even if you’re not enjoying yourself.

And that is particularly true as Nari directs Jeongin to pull Tzuyu closer to him. As he does, neither of them questioning it because they’re used to it by now, you find yourself sucking in a discreet breath between your teeth. Jeongin’s hand seems large over Tzuyu’s shoulder, long, pale fingers gently brushing against the skin and for a second, you think about the electric feeling that would run through you if he ever—

Just thinking about it makes heat shoot through your entire body, and you swallow. At least no one’s looking at you.

Another direction from Nari, and Tzuyu puts her hand over Jeongin’s chest, shooting a bold grin at the camera.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Direction. They step away from each other, but Jeongin reaches out for her, and she delicately places her fingers into his open end, both of them longingly staring at their hands.

Your fingers dig into your arms.

Direction. Keeping Tzuyu’s hand in his, Jeongin brings it to his lips and they gaze into each other’s eyes. They look perfect together. They’re both stunning, and you know there’ve been whispers about them on campus already, in no small part because they’re often reunited for these shoots.

But God does it burn in your chest to look at them right now.

“We’re done!” Nari shouts at 1.50 pm. Behind her, the group that’s supposed to get the room at 2 is huffing and puffing, but you don’t think a fucking panzer could have gotten her to clear the space until she was happy with her work.

You should be relieved. You’re not. You won’t be until you’ve locked the door to your room behind you.

“Wanna get a drink to celebrate?” Tzuyu asks Jeongin. Her smile’s back to its usual brightness, now that the tension’s mostly gone.

You start picking up your stuff, but, embarrassingly, you’re very much focused on hearing his answer to that. You wish you wouldn’t be doing that, because that’s not any of your business, yet you can’t seem to help yourself right now.

You probably would have caught it if Nari didn’t stop by your side just then.

“Hey,” she says, “I am really sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said that.”

The thing is, you’re pretty sure she meant it then, but now there’s a lightness to her voice that you find… annoying. It seems to you that she’s already moved on and expects you to do the same. Normally you would, but after having spent the last two hours watching the guy you have this stupid, hopeless crush on all over one of the prettiest girls you’ve ever seen, something in you just— snaps.

“I think you’ll have to find someone else next time,” you tell her with a polite smile. Her face falls, and you immediately feel guilty. You shouldn’t. Probably. Should you? Are you being mean? Are you doing something wrong? Does that make you a bad person?

“I— Okay,” she says, and this time her voice’s much softer. She looks down at her feet. “I get it. I know I’m not easy to— Yeah. I’m sorry.”

You thought standing up to her would feel good, that you’d feel Schadenfreude over this moment. This is the furthest thing from that. Actually, you only manage to bite back your own ‘I’m sorry’ at the last second.

“I just— this environment stresses me out,” you still say, speaking too fast. “It’s not really good or fun for me and—”

“Sure. Don’t worry about it.” A deep breath, and then Nari nods at you politely. “Well, I’ll get to cleaning up my stuff.”

And just as you’re replying “Same,” she’s spun around on her heels and started putting the clothes away.

You don’t know where that leaves the two of you, but that reaction makes the moment just a little easier on you.

You wonder, vaguely, if she did that on purpose. You don't linger on the thought though, and you go back to your own program, walking towards your little make-up station to start putting stuff away, getting everything back to its place in your bags. It’s something you slow at, just like you’re slow at setting them up, but it also helps you getting back to your normal self. With every object coming back to where they belong, you can breathe a little easier.

You still notice almost immediately the presence behind you, and you’re not particularly surprised to find Jeongin there. You give him a smile, and gesture at the chair.

“If you give me a second, I can get some of that off your face,” you say as you gesture to him. Camera make-up would look quite strange outside, and he’s been to enough of these things to know that at least as well as you do.

“I heard you told Nari off.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess you, uh, were right.”

That’s not all that happened there, but that will have to do.

When you glance at him, though, he doesn’t look happy about it, a frown barring his expression, and your fragile confidence immediately falters.

“Do you think that was a bad idea…?”

His eyes widen and he's quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all, you did good!” You can’t help but smile at the words. He’s younger than you, but somehow keeps behaving like he’s not. “I just like working with you.” He gives you a sheepish smile, lips pressed together.

“Sit down,” you say like your heart didn't skip a beat, “the least I can do is not let you go out like that.”

So he does, and even though you still have stuff out that you should be taking care of, you lean close to him and get to work once more.

There’ll be other shoots, of course, Nari isn’t the only one who requires your services. In fact, you’re surprised that he’d have thought of that at all. You know that it didn’t cross your mind, probably because you think these moments mostly as fueling your delusions.

The idea that Jeongin could actually enjoy spending time with you hadn’t even occurred to you.

Huh. That might say a thing or two about your self-confidence.

“So, you’re going out with Tzuyu after this?” you ask before your thoughts start running wild.

His eyes open.

“We’re going to get drinks, yeah,” he says, a cautious edge to his voice. “You should come with us, actually.”

“Oh,” you laugh, “I don’t know if she’d be very happy if I did that. Wouldn’t want to third wheel, you know.”

You hope you do a good job of keeping any bitterness out of your voice. You certainly try your best to appear nonchalant, like you’re merely doing small talk while you’re removing his make-up, even if you avoid meeting his eyes, knowing that it would

That might be why it takes you by surprise when Jeongin’s fingers wrap around your wrist, interrupting you. When you look at him, you find him staring at you with a surprisingly serious expression.

“You wouldn’t third wheel,” he says, which you certainly don’t think warrants all of that.

“It’s fine,” you reply, attempting to joke about it even as the breath is knocked out of your lungs, because you will not be caught dead misreading the situation for something it’s not, “if anything getting a date with Tzuyu is—”

Then, several things happen at once. The hand around your wrist pulls you forward and you stumble, just as his other hand shoots up to cup your face.

And then he’s kissing you.

His mouth is warm, his lips soft, his fingers carding through your hair, and suddenly you’ve lost your balance and you’re half sitting in his lap and any attempt at forming a coherent thought is swallowed by what is happening.

A very, very distant part of your brain is thankful for Nari’s screen, which has been moved to the make-up station to make place for the group that comes after you, but that is only a fleeting thought, because still, Jeongin’s kissing you. His hands are gentle, holding you like you’re a porcelain doll, but his lips are fierce, and you feel, briefly, his teeth grazing against your lower lip. His right hand travels from your wrist to your waist, and you’re pulled even closer to him, and now you’re pressed against his chest and all you can think about is how you want more of this.

When he moves away from you, you’re panting, breath short, and you can only stare at him with wide eyes.

“You wouldn’t be the one third-wheeling,” he says.

“What,” you say in response, ever the eloquent one.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair while the other one remains on your hips, not quite squeezing, but not letting go of you either.

“I— thought I’d made it pretty obvious I was interested in you,” he mumbles.

Oh. Uh, yeah, about that…

“I, uh, I assumed it was just wishful thinking,” you admit under your breath. “I mean, we don’t really, uh, talk outside of these shoots.”

He sighs and puts his forehead against yours. Your noses brush, and you’re acutely aware of the fact that you would just have to move a little to kiss him again.

“I— always looked forward to seeing you,” he admits quietly, almost shyly, something you’d never thought you would see, “but you always looked like you wanted to run away when I came up to you in class, so I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable, just— just shy, I think.”

It makes him grin, and you realize that seeing that specific look on his face makes you want to kiss him even more. If you were bolder, you would, especially right now, but you don’t think you can dare to just yet.

It’s fine, though, because he’s the one who kisses you, briefly, tenderly, and then he looks at you like you’re one of the world’s seven wonders.

“Want to go make Tzuyu feel like a third wheel?” he asks, rising an eyebrow.

You laugh, and you can’t know it, but his chest swells with pride when you do.

“And then I can take you on a proper date,” he offers. “If you’d like.”

‘If you’d like,’ he says, and you suspect that he knows exactly how much you’d like that, but you humor him because how could you not.

“I’d love that.”

this was my first time writing for IN and this made me realize that he's probably the member whose personality I'm least sure how to write, so I hope you enjoyed it still and I'll see you tomorrow for Seungmin's part! Any feedback, comment, reblogs or asks are extremely welcome, I may not be able to get to it right away because I'm working on the rest but I they're much appreciated ❤️

#stray kids #i.n.#yang jeongin #in x reader #jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #jeongin fanfic #candywrites

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crepe-of-wrath · 2 years ago

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Serial Shouta Saturday (1/2)

notes/warnings: 18+, fem reader; this scenario will absolutely not get out of my fucking head, I'm so sorry; this is also a two-parter that wraps up next week (I PROMISE) so I'm extra sorry; unrealistic undercover AU scenario that exists for no other purpose but to set up dom daddy vibes Shouta; lots of Daddy and kitten in this one; this is your last warning: either join me in suspending disbelief about the technical details of undercover work/crime that I have surely missed, or wait until I get this out of my system

You got out of the expensive car and instinctively moved to tug at the hem of your extremely short and revealing mini-dress.

A large, strong hand grabbed your wrist and yanked it up.

"Now, now sweet kitten, none of that. You know I like it when everyone else has to look at what they can't touch."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." You leaned into him to hide your blush. It was still hard for you to use that word. You wondered if news stations reported on things like that. Goodness, you hoped not. It already had to be destroying your mother and father to think that their little girl was the moll of the man everyone thought was the city's newest major crime boss, but knowing that you called that man "daddy" might actually kill them.

Eraser Head gently lifted your hand to his lips, and gave it the lightest kiss. "It's OK, angel. You're very cute when you're my shy little good girl."

There was a pause. Then he mouthed, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Daddy," you said in the softest, most docile voice you could muster.

Eraser Head kept his arm tight around your waist as the doormen waved you both in. The hostess darted her eyes toward his usual corner, and he escorted you to your regular booth. There were three men already seated, clearly cranky. You wondered how late you and Eraser were for the meeting; he delighted in making people wait for him.

"Gentlemen," he said, acknowledging them with a slight dip of the head, "forgive me." They obviously didn't, and he knew they didn't, but he continued. "I believe you've all met my darling little kitten before. Say hello again to the nice men, kitten."

"Good evening, sirs," you said, following it up with some quick bows. As they returned your greeting, the three men looked at him with expectation and fear. You guessed that made sense: people who acted in unpredictable ways were scary. And, as far as these men knew, Eraser Head was a murderous madman who had cut off his own fucking leg. Pretty unpredictable.

On this evening, Eraser chose to laugh. The men did too, but in that fake and forced way that one might laugh when there is a gun pointed at one's head.

He took his seat and roughly pulled you into the booth after him, immediately making quite a show of moving his hand underneath the hem of your skimpy little dress so he could start fondling your ass and thighs. He closed his eye and hummed with delight. The men across from you were clearly bewildered.

Eventually, he gave you a little pinch.

"Daddy!" you protested, and even you were surprised by how all the training you had done had sunk in: you were now instinctively using the higher-pitched, soft, vulnerable voice you had developed for this character.

Eraser leaned down and kissed your nose. "I'm sorry, kitten," he said, moving his hand back up to your waist. "How am I supposed to help myself?"

There was the most awkward silence until he spoke again. "Gentlemen," he said, "is what you have to tell me more interesting that my beautiful little angel here?"

It only took a few moments for you both to realize that yes, what these men had to say was very interesting. You leaned into Eraser, trying not to be distracted by how hot his body was, or how hot he looked with his eyepatch and his hair up, or by his hands, which were wandering all over you, because, now that they were speaking, it was time for you to work.

Compared to past eras, the newest generations of heroes had a disproportionately large number--Mindjack and Maboromicamie were probably the best known--of people whose quirks were not rooted in physical prowess. These heroes had been able to exploit familiar doctrines and strategies and both hero and villain alliances were still scrambling to adjust.

As part of their larger response, the HPSC had recruited you. Quirkless you. Hyperthymesic you. Scans could detect Quirks, but no scan on earth could detect the power of your memory. You could remember everything about every day of your life going back to your earliest years. Who was in a room, where you were, what happened at what time...what was said. A bit of training transformed you into the ultimate stealth recording weapon. You had become Eraser Head's new "girlfriend" about five months ago, and the two of you had been gathering information for Detective Tsukauchi ever since.

As Eraser continued conversing with the men, he started fondling your neck, stroking it with his thumb, squeezing it in ways that made you gasp and feel fuzzy-headed. There was a part of you that was very ashamed by this, but it really turned you on when he touched you like that, and you started making the most imperceptible little sighs and even running your hands over his own body. He grunted back in appreciation. The man who was talking to him stopped.

"Continue," said Eraser. "But be warned, you are now becoming far less interesting than precious little kitten here."

They talked for about fifteen more minutes, and, by the time Eraser Head abruptly ended the conversation, the hand that he had been using to cradle his drink for most of the evening had wandered so far up your thighs that he was practically fingering you. This may have been a response to your own hands, which had wandered all the way down his chest, and, well, maybe you had brushed against his cock along the way.

Eraser paraded you out of the establishment slowly, making a big show of it, but he was straining to control himself in a way you had never seen before. He practically pushed you into the car before barking, "HOME" at the driver and putting up the privacy screen.

You were laying down on the car's bench seat and he settled himself on top of you, leaning in very close. Knowing you were trapped under him was the most exhilarating and arousing thing.

"You had wandering hands tonight, kitten." His voice was even deeper than it usually was, and it was full of dangerous promises.

"I'm sorry, Daddy."

"I don't think you are, kitten. I think you wanted to be a naughty girl and distract me." He forced his knee between your legs as he gently stroked your face.

"Daddy?" You looked up at him unsure. Was this all still part of the game, the act?

"Yes, Kitten?" He rolled his hips, grinding into your body. He was hard. Not an act. Not a game.

You wrapped your arms around him, digging your nails into his back. "More, Daddy," you said softly. "I need more. Please, Daddy?"

He started to roll his hips again, so very, very slowly. When you tried to buck up your own hips to meet him, he roughly forced you back down and hissed, "You should have stayed still, my little kitten. Just for that, I'm going to start over again."

You thought you were going to die if you didn't have his powerful pressure hitting all your most sensitive places soon, but you laid still while he started over.

Just as he was about to give you what you craved, the car stopped. Were you at "your" building already?

Eraser Head's hand cupped your breast, drawing out a gasp that couldn't help but definitively confirm how turned on you were.

He placed a few heated kisses on the side of your neck as he continued to caress you. You leaned your head back and moaned, which allowed him to put his lips right next to your ear, in just the perfect place to whisper, "Kitten, let Daddy tell you how the rest of this night is going to go..."

PART TWO HERE

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa smut #bnha aizawa #aizawa x y/n

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yanderewritingdump · 1 year ago

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I've read too many COD fics, and now I'm stuck on scary military dudes who use their skills/resources inappropriately to keep an eye on you.

AFAB reader, female pronouns/gender language used, MDNI.

AN: I would like to share that I know squat about the military/guns/technology, but I think they're neat in certain fictional setting. Most of my information on the world of COD/military on has come from either watching my brother play it more than a decade ago, unwillingly listening to various people rant, and social media thirst traps. Please suspend your disbelief and forgive any inaccuracies you may find.

It was too much of a habit to pull up the camera feed of your back porch, watching you rock gently as you diligently worked at what must be your latest project. Something was taking shape in your hands, but his knowledge of things outside of war and death tended to be a bit spotty. He thought it looked vaguely like a thin, holey scarf. It was the third color he’d seen you use in the last two weeks as you tried to teach yourself from the book next to your rocking chair. He wasn’t exactly sure what you were doing with the ball of twine and weird plastic tool, and he was pretty sure you were terrible at it from the way you grumbled and picked it. The breeze rustled some of the pages, lifting stray strands of hair into your eyes, before picking up and shutting the book gently on the delicate beaded chain that you had put together. That really got you muttering, and he huffed a soft laugh.

Your hair caught the light of the afternoon sun, shining and soft looking. The desire to run his fingers through it, to grip a fistful at the back of your head and pull you into his kiss thrummed through him. He wanted to suck your lip into his mouth for his teeth instead as you chewed on it in thought.

That was too common of a thought. You were always focusing intently on something, a million miles away as you gnawed on your poor lip and thumbs.

He shouldn’t watch you enough to know all these little details, to have all these little fantasies that are ingrained in him with simple habits of yours. But some nights it was the only thing to ease his troubled thoughts half a world away. He was just as addicted to you as his captain was to his cigars, and he was even less to give you up even if the others managed to find out about you.

It's hard not to notice a hulking man sitting in the far corner, no matter how much he blends in to the shadows. At least, it was hard for you and your friend where you were propped up on the bar with your drinks and dinner. When Caden spotted him, he nudged you in the ribs, not so subtly nodding at him as the normal Thursday night crowd milled around you. "Aren’t you in the market for a fun time?" he teased, “because that looks like a fun time.”

You elbowed him back harder in an attempt to hide how flustered you were. "Shut up," you hissed. You risked a glance towards the far corner table, the second of what would probably be at least a dozen more as the night went on. Even in the dimmest part of the bar, he seemed massive, sprawled out with his arm slung over the back of the chair and his legs spread wide into the aisle as he slowly sipped his liquor. The fuck-off vibes radiating off of him were clear even from this distance. “I don’t think he’s looking for company tonight anyway,” you said with a little disappointment. Caden rolled his eyes at you, and it devolved into your familiar bickering as he tried to convince you to approach him and you grumbled at him for trying to live vicariously through you.

He rarely indulged himself in these little trips to see you in person when he wasn’t on a mission. It felt too risky. He shouldn't be seen frequenting the same places as you, staring at you for hours on end. Normally, he wouldn’t even let himself be seen, but something was making him either bolder or stupider when it came to decisions about you. How was he supposed to resist pressing you into the cheap lacquered wood of the bar and leaning down to breathe in the smell of your hair and perfume? How could he not see if your hips felt as good in his hands as he imagined they would? It would be impossible not to press against you and see what sort of sounds you'd make with his lips pressed against your throat.

But he liked catching you looking at him, lip caught between your teeth for a brief moment as you flushed and looked away. Maybe if he were a different person, a more normal person, he could buy you a drink and flirt with you. Instead, he had camera covering every inch of your home and more than one pair of your underwear hidden away in his belongings.

The others would laugh at him if they saw how he was almost drooling over you.

You were in a heated conversation with your friend, heads close together as you whispered intently back and forth before he seemed to have to last word at the way you angrily got off your stool. From his spot, it was easy to tell which profanities you were hissing at him as you grabbed your drink. He was amused by it all for a moment until he realized you were tentatively approaching him instead of finding a different chair for your friend's partner, as was generally expected of this frequent ritual.

He knew what he looked like. A giant of a man drinking alone in a dingy, poorly lit bar did not generally get any positive interest. Apparently, you were braver than he gave you credit for. As badly as he wanted to actually interact with you, he wasn’t sure he’d actually be able to reign himself in if you tried to flirt with him. He really didn’t want to have to turn you down. If his pretty girl wanted him, he would let you have him because he had no self-control when it came to you.

Maybe that’s why he ended up letting you flirt with him and buying you another drink. It was definitely why he let you lead him to your home, pretty, soft hands occasionally reaching back for him in the cool winter air as you giggled at his terrible jokes.

It made you seem even more like a dream than you already did.

He let you hook your finger around his, leading him into your cozy, two-bedroom home. He knew all about it, had access to all the cameras that your parents and family friend insisted you setup around the older home, and had even set up other cameras to cover the blind spots you had missed. Knowing all of that was different than you leading him by the hand inside.

Not that you knew what you were inviting inside your sanctuary.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to press you against your front door, letting his fingers dig into your waist to finally, finally let himself know what it felt like as he presses his mouth to yours. The soft, sweet noise of surprise that fades into a pleased hum satisfies something inside him. He would take care of you tonight, and he’d make sure to ruin every other man for you while he did it.

The gentle way you lace your fingers through his hair and crane up to meet him while he dominates your mouth was adorable. You were pliant against him, letting him drag you that much closer to his body with more soft, pleased noises. How could you be so soft and yielding to a man like him?

You make him crazy, he decides, letting his hands slide down to your thighs. The way you cling to his biceps, nails digging into his hoodie and as he yanks your thighs up around his waist make him smirk against your throat. “Which door?” he murmured against you instead of sucking bruises into the thin, delicate skin like he wanted to.

Fuck, it was hot how strong he was, you thought, locking your ankles around him. He hadn’t even made that discouraging grunt as he just wrapped you around his waist. Only one arm was supporting you as his other hand crept under your shirt to rest on the small of your back. Your back arched, pressing more firmly into him and the kisses he was lavishing on your throat. Each step he took made him grind against you, and you dug your nails in harder at the sheet size of the bulge against you. “Fuck,” you hiccupped when he nipped your throat.

“Which door, sweet girl?”

Surely there was a bruise forming now from his incessant, sucking kisses. “Left door. Kind of a mess. Sorry.”

He shrugged as he set you on a clear area of the bed, laying you back and caging you in for a moment with his body as he devoured your mouth. One of his hands was keeping your hips firmly anchored to his, grinding you against him while the other worked under your top to unhook your bra. When your hands tug at his hoodie, he sat back and yanked it off, letting your ass rest against his firm thighs for a just moment. You didn’t get to enjoy the view of his well-muscled chest for long before he was leaning over you again to divest you of your own top.

Propping himself on his elbow above you, he takes a moment to enjoy the view. You were flustered and flushed, lips plush and shiny from his rough kissing. You looked like you wanted to cover yourself and hide from his scrutiny, but you settled your hands on his sides, biting your lip and looking at him shyly. “So pretty,” he rumbled appreciatively before he was diving down to drown himself in you again. He nipped down your throat to your breasts, gently biting and licking one nipple as he worked your pants open and slipped his hand inside.

He wanted to skip ahead, throw your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until both of you were puddles on the bed. He couldn’t let himself see you against after this, though, and he knew that you wouldn’t be able to take that kind of treatment.

You were impatient to be kissed again. Hand tugging at his hair as you urged him back up your body. He let himself be tugged until his face was even with yours but just out of reach. “Patience, pretty girl,” he scolded smugly. That smugness turned into a groan with him dropping his head into the crook of your neck when he felt how wet you were for him. His fingers were practical dripping as he tried to mimic how he’d see you touch yourself. “Fuck, did you like my kisses that much, sweetheart?” he asked.

You whined, arching into the touch as best as you could under his body. His voice was sinful, low and gruff with a certainty that told you he was used to being listened to. Between that, the confident manhandling, and the way he kissed you like he couldn’t live without you, how were you supposed to stand a chance. “I want more,” you moaned instead of answering. “Vince, please.”

He huffed a laugh that registered as a little dark and sinister to some distant part of your brain as you tried to rock against his finger faster. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart,” he rumbled, dragging you to the edge of the bed. Before the surprise had worn off, your pants were gone and he was on his knees with your legs over his shoulders. His arm was like an iron band across your hips, preventing you from jolting away at the first hot swipe of his tongue. Both of you moaned.

It seemed to set off something animalistic in him. The low grunt and groans rumbled through you as he sucked and licked at your clit with a single-minded determination. You were lost in the sensation, trying to grind against his face despite the way he held you down, and your hands fluttered between gripping his hair, his arm, and the bedding.

If he didn’t know better, he would have thought he was in heaven. How else could he explain how it felt to hear you moan and chant his name like a pray as your thighs clenched around his head? The noise you made when he sank his fingers into you must have been the sweetest thing he’d ever hear. He was glad the camera he’d set up in the bedroom had good audio.

Your nails were digging into his arm, leaving pretty little marks that he wanted to tattoo into his skin. Your walls were fluttering around his fingers, thighs trembling against his ears as you tried to stutter out a warning that’s cut off by every muscle in your body clenching. He loved the way your body tries to pull his fingers deeper and the way your clit pulses against his tongue as he sucks on it. He only let up when you whine his name, trying to wiggle away from his grip.

He let you, taking mercy on you just this once. He couldn’t have his pretty girl tap out before the fun even started when she had begged him for more could he?

You were panting, arm thrown over your eyes to block out the light of the room. “Fuck. I didn’t know I could come that hard.”

The bed creaked as he climbed back on, manhandling you on to your stomach and shoving pillows under your hips until he deemed them in the correct spot. “Oh, darling,” he rumbled against the back of your neck, ignoring your yelp of surprise, “that sounds like a challenge to me.” Something in you clenches at the dark promise in his voice.

His forearm was planted on the bed beside your head, supporting him as he ground his cock through the mess between your thighs. “Do you have a condom?” you manage to ask. “I’m not on anything, and I wasn’t planning on bringing anyone home with me.”

There’s a bit of panic bubbling in you, ruining the nice little high you were coasting on before he flashed a small foil packet at you. “Wasn’t exactly planning on going home with anyone myself, but how was I supposed to say no to such a pretty girl flirting with me? Just want to enjoy feeling how wet I’ve got you before I put it on.”

He didn’t like the panic in your eyes when you asked, but something in him preened at the implication that you couldn’t help but want to take him home with you. You knew he’d take care of you, didn’t you? He tore the packet open with his teeth, trying to memorize the way you looked under him even as he mourned not being able to have the full sensation of fucking you.

It was a tight fit despite how wet he had gotten you, and he held your hip to keep you in place as he eased inside you. Your soft, pretty noises as you tried to rock back into him were not helping him stay in control. “Fuck, you’re tight, sweetheart.” He was breathing deeply, head pressed between your shoulders as he reigned in the wild urge to pound you into the mattress and the clench of his balls.

“Fuck me, Vince,” you whined, struggling to push back against him. None of your toys had filled you quite like he did, and you clenched around him in an effort to get him to move.

He growled something against your shoulder, forcing your knees to open more with his own before he was plowing into you. His grip on your hip and the weight of his body pressing into you kept you pinned in place as he started up a steady, hard rhythm that had his balls tapping your sensitive clit with each thrust. It had you moaning curses as your hands wrapped around his wrists in a vain attempt to do something. “You wanted me to fuck you, sweetheart. Now be a good girl for me and take it,” he said, hot breath ghosting across your overheated skin before he was sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder.

His firm hold hadn’t relented, forcing you to take what he gave you and scramble to hold on to something. There was already a tightness building in your abdomen, and it only grew faster as he found the perfect angle. “Please don’t stop. Shit. Please, please, please,” you hissed, eyes squeezed shut tight as you chased your orgasm. As if solely to be cruel to you, he pulled away. “No, no, no, no. Fuck. Please, Vince!” You looked over your shoulder at him to try to see why he was leaving you high and dry just in time for him to flip you on to your back and sink into you again.

He looked smug and rumpled in the best way as he found his rhythm again. His dark eyes smirked down at you while that thick, calloused thumb found your clit. You wrapped around him, trying to make sure he couldn’t do that again. He kissed you for a moment, and you could still taste yourself on his tongue. “Hush, pretty girl. I’m going to take care of you. I just want to look at you when you cum.” His shot straight through you, and it was just enough to send you over the over the edge.

Your thighs clamped around his sides, nails scratching down his back. He watched you throw back your head, whispering a choked off version of his name as he tried to keep his rhythm steady. It was hard with you clenched around him so tight and the feeling of finally having you under him. “That’s it. That’s my good girl,” he murmured, petting your waist gently. He managed to keep it together until your thighs relaxed against him and you started making that needy overstimulated noise even as you arched into his touch and rocked up to meet him.

He wasn’t sure that he had ever cum that hard or that much. It seemed to go on forever as you kept grinding on his ridged body.

He managed to roll off of you before he collapsed, taking a moment to let his bones solidify again before he got to work cleaning both of you up.

#yandere male #yandere x reader #afab reader #yandere smut #yandere writing #yandere male oc #yandere oc x reader

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a34trgv2 · 1 year ago

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The Problem With Exposition Dumps

In any form of entertainment, it's important to establish some context for the events of the story. There is a right way to do it and a wrong way. Dumping exposition onto the audience is most certainly the wrong way. For this post, I'm going to explain my problem with exposition dumps and how to better convey exposition. And in case you're wondering, no, I'm not going to put down writers who use exposition dumps as "lazy" or "pathetic."" My intent is always to educate, not belittle.

You should be familiar with what an exposition dump is as they pop up everywhere. In movies, TV shows, video games, radio podcasts and etc.. Characters will stop the story dead in it's tracks to spend more than a paragraph talking about lore, character backstorys, or the setting they're in. This makes for boring entertainment because at that point, the characters are just spouting random trivia from the story bible and not actually telling a compelling story. I'm all about fun facts and interesting lore, but not at the expense of good storytelling and creative world building.

Let's dissect this clip from Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur. Moon Girl says that she's tired, yet the way she's animated in the clip leads me to believe otherwise as she's not panting or sweating. She also mentions that the bad guy is getting stronger, then asks "but how?" I can suspend my disbelief enough to get behind a child prodigy befriending a dinosaur and fighting bad guys in New York, but I don't buy for a second she doesn't know what a troll is. But okay, let's actually assume she doesn't know what a troll is (as unlikely as that sounds); she should still put 2 and 2 together when she sees that everytime she takes his petty comments personally, he gets stronger. She should've known before this particular clip that he was feeding off her negative emotions like a parasite, or in this case, a symbiote. She then zooms in on the troll and realizes that it's a symbiote before spelling out for the audience what a symbiote's weakness is. First of all, even if people didn't know what a symbiote was, you could've still showed us what it's weakness is by having Devil roar immediately. Or better yet, leave it a mystery to be solved in a latter episode because it honestly doesn't matter too much in the context of the episode. Second, you mean to tell me this kid knows what an alien symbiote is but not a troll? This makes her less of a relatable kid who just so happens to be smart and more like a socially inept outcast who's so caught up in science and math that she's basically stupid when it comes to being a human. Not only was this exposition dump useless, but it was also poorly constructed based on what we already know about Moon Girl and what kind of girl she's supposed to be.

Is there a way to give exposition without it feeling pointless and boring, though? Actually, yes. One of the best examples I can think of is the opening to Samurai Jack. It perfectly sums up the main driving force behind Jack's quest with the late-great Mako's chilling and sinster voice, and eerie flute plaing, and the still images that look like ancient Japanese artwork. The lines used are also vague enough for the audience to fill in the gaps and we're told just enough to be invested in the story. Exposition can also be told in a way that's funny, such as in the Wander Over Yonder episode The Ball, where Beeza nonchalantly explains to Wander and Sylvia that the world is ending (again) at the paws of a giant space puppy. The comedic timing is on point as Tara Strong gives a very relaxed and soft spoken delivery as Beeza mentions cannibalism and starvation as possible fates for her people. Exposition can even be sung in a banging musical number, such as Part Of Your World from Little Mermaid, One Day More from Les Miserable, or the iconic Oompa Loompa songs from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. In the hands of the right storyteller, the exposition scene could be an audience member's favorite moment from the story.

As the saying goes, less is more. This is especially true when you're writing exposition. Dumping exposition on the audience will either frustrate them or bore them to sleep. If you're gonna give exposition during the story, try having it delivered in a way that's interesting; i.e. during an action scene like in Kung Fu Panda, a funny scene like in The Bad Guys, or in a musical number like in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Just because exposition is necessary doesn't mean it has to be boring. Exposition is the avocado of storytelling. Alone, it's as bland and boring as paint drying on a rainy day. With the right ingredients, though, it can make for some pretty good guacamole. See you next time ✌️

#reblog #share #like #follow #animation #comedy #rant #problem #exposition #exposition dumps #samurai jack #moon girl and devil dinosaur #storytelling #boring

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wheeloffortune-design · 2 years ago

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i know writing a transition between scenes is hard but sometimes a character faints and they wake up in a whole other place, like their bedroom, and i'm supposed to believe someone carried this adult man through the whole town, put them in a car, climbed up the stairs, changed them into comfortable clothes? i can suspend my disbelief for historical settings but modern ones?? that man has been unconscious for twelve hours why didn't anyone call an ambulance?? how did he fit into the uber?? how did you manage to put his pajamas on?? someone call 911?!?!?

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bates--boy · 16 days ago

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@nezumivc103221

Nezumi halts with his lips slightly parted; both his eyebrows lift in a display of sincere surprise. Whatever he has wanted to say remains hung in his throat. Words unsaid like a cassette on pause, voice suspended mid-air. Slowly, he turns his face towards Peter and lets out a breath of the softest disbelief. His expression shifts into a somewhat neutral smile. "I'm fine; thank you for the offer, though," Nezumi says politely and amiably, unsure whether he should dub Peter's proposal to be a kind gesture or if he should be worried that he has come across as incompetent to his client. The life of a private investigator often requires the opposite to happen — Nezumi is the one who approaches strangers and represents his clients. It's his thing. He has handled nosy journalists, drunk patrons, entitled elite, ignorant police. He has had it all — or at least most, but he likes to think he can handle anything life throws at him. Nezumi doesn't remember the last time someone has offered to speak on his behalf — a guardian, a friend or a partner — he supposed that he doesn't exactly give the impression he ought to be cared for or that he cannot speak for himself, and he understands it. He has always been the independent one, the carer — and that is as it should be. That is who he wants to be. "I won't be long," Nezumi reassures; he turns to leave, but just before grabbing the doorhandle, he gives Peter a conniving look and attempts at a joke: "But if you hear me scream for help, feel free to rush to my rescue."

"Y'sure?" Peter asked, even as he was watching Nezumi leaving and, even more, was trying to hide the relief in his voice.

There was no nice way to put it: the case was a total bomb. And though Peter was sure that Nezumi was a fine investigator, thorough and top of the line (as far as Peter's knowledge of this type of work went), a man can only get his hopes up with false leads and dud information before he wants to call it quits, demand his money back, and let come what bloody, gorey, and torturous may. Peter still held that thought even when someone had rang him up and dangled just one more bit of hope in front of him: information.

Peter folded his arms on the desk and glanced past Nezumi to the door, the other side of which the informant was presumably still waiting. The guy looked every bit the devil-worshipping metalhead every blue-blooded Christian and his suburban housewife feared during the Satanic Panic, from how the guy was nothing but a block of muscle, to the runic tattoos all over his arms and one side of his face, to every face piercing imaginable. Peter knew he sounded very much like one of the pearl-clutching surburban Christians, but that guy was setting off a few alarms in Peter. Which was exactly why Peter knew that it was better if he, himself went back out there: Nezumi could extract the right information, sure, but if shit went south and the metalhead informant went on a slaughtering spree, Peter could resurrect.

Since Peter knew that carnage was possible, he really wished he hadn't picked his theatre to meet up. He knew he should stop imagining every which wrong way this meeting could turn, at least one of them had to take this seriously, because... was that a joke? Peter raised his eyebrows; dang, he didn't know Nezumi was capable of such a thing! He tried not to smile, himself, lifting a hand to rest his chin in his. "Ha ha, sure thing, buddy," he snarked. "Although, I think you look a little too gymratty to be a damsel in distress."

#nezumivc103221 #ic

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ferdieinceladoncity · 1 year ago

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WILD BLUE YONDER SPOILERS/THOUGHTS

Doing this again :3

.Now this was a Doctor Who episode. It was amazing, it was hilarious, it was thrilling, and I am so glad that this episode was kept so tightly under wraps and wasn't part of the leaks- though how would this episode even be explained written down anyway?

.I don't really know why Isaac newton was there? To make the mavity joke and the snippet about the doctors sexuality? both very valid and great moments, but unless some important plot point fell out of my head it was a bit random, but I'm not complaining I suppose

.my mum was CONVINCED that it wasn't coffee that donna was drinking, with the way they were acting at the start of the episode. lmao.

.This set is giving crazy high budget. The entire episode was very visually impressive. The scene of the entire outside of the ship spinning in space (and the weird contorted circle shape of it) makes you blink twice

.I liked the bit that confirmed the doctors attraction to men, its funny that he seemed surprised about it. "is that who I am now?" who you are NOW? Anyway, I really hope it's explicitly talked about in future episodes that the doctor is bisexual, omnisexual or however it happens to be. I would like the attraction to ALL genders (or lack thereof) to be made explicit.

.My heart actually dropping out of tension hasn't been something I've felt in a doctor who episode in a LONG time, but that scene where we cut to the Doctor messing with the tubes in the blue room after we just see Donna and the Doctor in the orange one actually gave me that perfect sinking feeling. It was such a great "somethings not right" moment. Like, oh shit- that's not HIM-

."My arms are too long" and both of them just brushing that off coming from the other initially is very funny. and very real. Some shit I wouldn't blink if my friends said around me. yeah I dont know it's like that

.THEY WENT HAM ON THE VISUAL EFFECTS AND I CAN'T LOVE IT ENOUGH. IT'S UNCANNY, IT'S GOOFY AND IT'S UNSETTLING- I could NOT stop laughing, but it was also horrific! That scene of them chasing them down the hallway was straight up nightmare fuel. how did rtd even decide that was. that was something he wanted to do. he was right but like. crazy.

.The scene where donna and the doctor confront each other and the viewer knows one of each set isn't "right' but we don't know which is which (and I was wrong with my initial guess, which is probably the point) that was great. ""Donna""" telling the doctor that the flux wasn't his fault and him responding "I KNOW" was really just something to me. I cant remember much about the flux storyline, but sometimes things that aren't your fault still hurt so much.

.On the other side of the coin, it was an amazing moment when the """doctor""" realises the tie he threw off is gone, and he says "oh. things that are gone still exist." it's a very chilling line... cooking in the writing room

.Oh. and the spider-walking bit. Top tier. it makes me think of all the people watching doctor who recently just for David Tennant because he's having a Tumblr/twitter dilf sexyman resurgence. Watch your man do this (contorts into a crab walk, runs on all fours) :3 thats how we do things in doctor who. nah im joking he's my celeb crush too

.I also really liked the scene with the line of salt. Had to suspend my disbelief for a second: it's not like he salted across the whole room, walk around it maybe? but it was just a great scene, and the """donna"" dropping to her knees and counting the salt was pretty funny.

.Is this villain and the one in Midnight connected? Gotta be, though I feel as if it might never be explained. The mimicry is too similar of a premise and it makes a lot of sense that they'd reference it given that Midnight is generally considered to be one of the 10th Doctors best episodes.

.Do y'all remember when someone edited the IMDB page to say that Billie Piper was in this episode because whoever did that was quite funny. This episode was leagues better than any returning character call-back episode they could have done (and I say that with so much love for her) but I am one of the many people who want A SINGULAR TENTOO MENTION and the clown music is getting louder and im wondering if I should just go grab my rainbow wig and red nose now

.What kind of animal was the captain? A horse? I guess? I want to see what this alien looked like when it was alive. It made me intrigued and I think it was quite a powerful/scary visual that it wasn't a human skull. There was something more unsettling about an animalistic skull- YES of course it would be an alien yeah duh but do you understand? do you find the visual creepy as well?

.Im sorry but the part where the "doctor" just starts GALLOPING on all fours made me lose it. Me at 11 years old on the school playground pretending to be a wolf. What warrior cat do you think the tenth doctor kins (I dont know, but I do know that 12 kins Jayfeather. That's really obvious.)

.Could he not have thought of ANY better question to ask to determine between the two donnas? And why would "it just is" be the answer he went for? The scene where Donna faces death is powerful: breaking a little of her trust for him: he chose the wrong one. it was good stuff. But hey doctor, please explain your thought process behind that whole scene on this blackboard, because I cant get my head around it.

.My mother wants a ramp that spews people out of the door installed in our house for guests.

.I feel like donna was lying when she said she doesn't remember the doctors 15 years past. Or, idk, well. I wrote that but she did say it was like looking into a furnace, so maybe it's true. Donna asking if the doctor will be alright and the doctor saying "I will be" was great but "when?" "in a million years" was a bit much, but im being pedantic.

.Curious about the salt thing... there's much in the specials that's either being set up for the giggle or the next season, and both are intriguing. FWIW, I think when the Meep was referring to the boss the meep was probably referring to the toymaker, (watch me eat my words next week) but the salt thing- would that really be connected to the toymaker?

.wilf.wilfwilfwilf. Apparently, this is the only time before Bernards death that he features in the specials. This hurts the most, but it hurts SO GOOD that he got to be here one last time. and, fictionally, the doctor got to see Wilf one last time. That's so incredible. I'm tearing up. And I stayed with my eyes glued to the credits scene knowing there would be a dedication to him in the end, and I teared up all over again. Bernard Cribbins acting as Wilf is one of those characters that's going to be remembered forever.

.Incredible. So much fun. This was just... FUN. my whole family really enjoyed this one a lot more than the Star Beast (me and mum loved the star beast, my dad didnt, but he loved this one.)

#wild blue yonder #the wild blue yonder #doctor who #mine #doctor who spoilers

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mental-illness-bingo · 2 years ago

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Content Warning: Venting about ableism against ADHD and Autism in a book; mentions of emotional abuse, repeated mentions of elitism within the autism community, "corrective" surgery for mental health disorders, demonizing of medication, encouraging young adults to refuse their medication etc. Note that I haven't finished the book yet, but I intend to, so I suppose it could get better, but what it's done already is abhorrent, and I'm grossed out.

Book in question: The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily by Laura Creedle

This. Book. Is. Killing. Me.

I saw this recommended as a "really good book about autism and ADHD" from someone but I *really* hate it so far (I'm on Chapter 27, about 2/3 way through the book) and it's honestly just blatantly ableist in so many ways. I do not know if Laura Creedle is autistic or has ADHD, but if so? Internalized ableism everywhere. If not then yet another neurotypical asshat who wrote an ableist ass book.

Context: Lily is diagnosed with ADHD and Abelard is diagnosed with "Asperger's".

And let's start there. This book was written in 2017, years after the switch from that N*zi doctor's name to Autism Spectrum Disorder. This is problem #1, and the reason is not that they use that word for it. I can and have enjoyed books while suspending my disbelief around the fact that they maybe didn't know because a significant number of people still don't in 2023.

However, Abelard is the poster child for elitism. He is this super smart kid who just so happens to have trouble with verbal conversation, being late, and sometimes being touched. He is worse than the savant trope because he is literally talked about like a genius. He is inhumanly good at chess, robotics, old literature, video games, just everything he touches, really. In fact, despite him supposedly having serious communication difficulties, when he is texting, he is suddenly able to communicate just like anyone else, with occasional long pauses between texts being the only issue he shows.

And his sole meltdown that has been shown is honestly so toxic and borders abusive to Lily. She is late to their date due to her ADHD, something any of us with it can relate to, and Abelard knows about her ADHD in advance as well as having had seen her symptoms multiple times in person. There is 0 way he didn't know about her having ADHD. Anyway, she's a little late (I think 20 minutes or something but I can't remember tbh with you) and he is visibly angry with her, and she immediately apologizes, explaining that her ADHD causes her issues being on time. Rather than be understanding of his girlfriend's disorder the way she has tried to be with his, he pretty much ignores her. His mother babies him about it, working on setting up everything for him and getting them into the movie wherein he seems to relax (but only after forcing his mother to go get popcorn right this instant because they're watching a movie and he needs popcorn). Then, after a bit, his father is trying to explain the movie to Lily and its history and Abe does NOT like people talking during movies. He yells at his dad, who continues to try and talk, and then has the meltdown in question. Lily tries to touch him to help comfort him and realizes immediately she shouldn't have when he makes a noise as though he is in pain. He begins slamming his head off the table, which is reasonably off putting to Lily, and she asks his father for help. His father mentions his mom would usually be here and that Lily "shouldn't have been late", basically accusing her of causing the meltdown even though he kept pushing when his son told him they were watching a movie. Lily panics and exits to the kitchen because she feels helpless and upset that she can't do anything for him.

All of this is relatively understandable behavior, I guess. I don't really love that he yelled at his father and mother both in this scene for normal things because it paints autistic people as unreasonable and irrational, but it is true that sometimes meltdowns are caused by people continually doing normal things that happen to really get under our skin. His parents should know his triggers and avoid pushing them because they are his parents. Lily, on the other hand, is a child and one with her own neurodivergent struggle, and should never in any way have been strapped with the blame both because it is not her job to tiptoe around a boy she has been dating for a few days with triggers no one warned her about, and because the issue at hand is a symptom of her own disorder and is equally as in her control as Abelard's reaction to her being late is in his.

BUT THEN while panicking in the kitchen, Lily breaks something on accident as she often does and tries to leave and Abe's mom makes a whole thing out of it. She becomes physically intimidating to Lily, smashing a glass on purpose to "help" the situation, which obviously makes Lily uncomfortable, and half-threatens her to go back into her son's room even though she wants to go. Throughout the entire next scene Lily mentions in her narration wanting to go home and while I think it's important that Lily learns coping skills outside of running away, it is equally within her right to be too stressed by Abe's reaction to her being late and choose to break up with him. Lily is not required to stay with Abe just because she's the only girl he has brought home, and intimidating her into staying is disgusting.

To Abe's credit, he mentions that his mother used his sob story to make Lily stay. Then he loses 100% of that credit in the most entitled scene I've read in a long time where Lily is pressured to not only stay in that house and in that relationship, but also promise to NEVER be late again even though it is a symptom of her own disorder. She mentions that this seems to be the only way to make him happy and that "promising to try harder is not enough". So, more or less, she is in a relationship where she cannot ever show symptoms of her disorder without him giving her the silent treatment, yelling at everyone around him, and smashing his head into a table.

No one ever mentions at any time during this or after that Abelard also should be learning positive coping skills or teaching her how to help with his meltdowns or anything like that. She should just be expected to never show a symptom of her own disorder so that he doesn't react in a very toxic/honestly kind of abusive way. Cannot stress enough that he does not treat her kindly again until she promises she will literally never be late ever again. Not try - NEVER late again.

Abe strongarms multiple people like this throughout the book. His mother with the popcorn, his father with talking during a movie, his robotics teacher where he literally stands there and repeats "I invited my girlfriend to robotics" over and over again until, despite safety concerns, the teacher gives up and allows Lily to stay if she signs a waiver (which she doesn't read and is not the legal age to sign anyway), and Lily when he wants to tell her something but tells her she is not allowed to speak until he has finished then gets visibly angry (as noted by Lily) when she answers a question he asked her out loud. His meltdowns are used as a threat of sorts to the people around him and a manner of controlling them. It is worth noting I have only in my entire life met one autistic person who did this and surprise surprise, they were abusive and had a history of using meltdown threats to R word multiple people. That is not autistic behavior. It is abuse being hidden behind the excuse of autism, and it's gross in every context, including this book.

So, onto Lily's ADHD. Lily is constantly breaking things, constantly late, runs out of any even slightly uncomfortable situation, does not care about the emotions of her mother or her sister, and is overall a really gross ADHD stereotype. But that's okay! Why? Because she will be fixed via corrective surgery. Yes, you read that right. But let's go into why medication didn't work for her first.

Lily lists throughout the book her hatred of her current and all past medications, of which there is a number she lost count of. Because the author treats this ADHD character like a goldfish who was just given access to a human body for the first time and therefore cannot remember anything (or walk two steps without smashing something valuable), that number could still be relatively small. The book doesn't treat it as a small number though, so we're going to assume she's tried most ADHD medications, and is currently taking an antidepressant as a manner of treating ADHD which is so far in the past as far as treatment goes that I don't even know which medication they're talking about.

The typical antidepressants (SSRI's) are not used to treat ADHD at all to my knowledge, and SSNRI's are only really used if every other form of ADHD medication has failed you and even then are rarely used as far as anyone I know with ADHD. Why? Because there are actual medications that help ADHD, and a good amount of them. Realistically, the concept that 0 of them worked for Lily is statistically improbable. The only antidepressant really used to treat ADHD actively is Bupropion, but the emotional blunting the surgeon Lily sees says is a side effect of her medication is not a side effect associated with Bupropion. In fact, Wellbutrin/Bupropion is often used for people either in combination with or as a replacement for other antidepressants to counteract the emotional blunting they cause.

The demonizing of medication in this book is dangerous. Lily hates every medication because all of them have stripped her of her ability to feel anything positive. The book does not mention any other ADHD character that tolerates medication well, or even speak about it as though it is just not working for her. It does not explain that if Lily went to the doctor and told them her side effects, that they would *immediately* taper and remove a medication that is causing emotional blunting and sui thoughts. The book doesn't mention that this is an abnormal side effect - in fact it's says it's a common side effect of antidepressants. It also treats medication as some sort of weird muzzle that is put on people with ADHD so their loved ones (in this case Lily's mom, sister, and teachers) can tolerate them. The book does not mention any positive effects of any medication for ADHD at all. I hate to think how many kids were made afraid of or resentful of their meds by this book.

The book details specific ways to avoid taking your medication, and even how to hide it so you can (tw sui mention) take them all with vodka to hurt yourself. This is not something Lily attempts in the book, but was just thinking about, and therefore did NOT need to be described in detail. The book even acts like sui watch is stupid and unnecessary, and does not detail the dangers if Lily were to take all of these medications at once with alcohol. So basically they wrote in a non-precautionary sui method for kids with ADHD that also involves months or years of medication non-compliance. Great. /sarcasm

But like I said, that's not the worst of it. What upset me enough to write this whole rant is the next part. Lily's mother finally giving up on the neurologists (which... weird because everyone I know with ADHD was treated by a psychiatrist not ever a neurologist), and going to a literal brain surgeon for some sort of electrodes to be placed in her brain that is supposed to permanently change how her synapses fire.

This is the ableist buffet, and for a while Lily feels the same and by a while I mean 2-4 pages. Then she decides that she will see the doctor if her Mom does something for her, and forgets all about the upset of having her mother feel the need to cure her.

In fact, when Lily meets the doctor, it takes him almost no time to convince her that she not only needs but also wants the corrective surgery, spouting about how she could go to college right now if she does it, when college would not have even been an option before.

It is gross on every single level and I looked up this surgery and ITS FAKE ITS NOT EVEN REAL. This author literally made up a fake corrective surgery for ADHD, I wanna puke.

I literally do not even want to read this for the story anymore I just have to know how much worse it can possibly get. If it's bad maybe I'll reblog and add on to this.

Edit: HOW could I possibly forget Lily's Dad? A total deadbeat who cheated on her mother and ran off to Portland, who was only able to interact with his daughter while actively drinking when he still lived with them, who is constantly switching what he wants to do in his life to the point that he can't hold a job, and who refuses to talk to let alone see either of his daughters in the years since he's been gone because he "can't keep a phone". And why is he like this? As the books tells you very explicitly about 2/3 of the way in, he is like this because he also has ADHD. Lovely. He had this apparently entirely inspired, amazing, never-been-done idea for his dissertation in college. But then he more or less got bored and overwhelmed with the idea so he just dropped it, left college and his family, and ran away to Portland. All because he has ADHD, because the author thinks that's what this disorder is - an inability to have any responsibility or finish anything ever no matter what it is or how important. The author treats ADHD like it's a lobotomy and I hate it here.

Maybe don't read The Love Letters of Abelard and Lily.

Edit: see reblog. It got so much worse, not better.

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script-a-world · 2 years ago

Text

Submitted via Google Form:

How can I have my world full of massive floating structures in the sky and keep it safe enough?

I'm thinking these structures would be at least 300m in diameter and have several buildings. Just a single disaster could be horrible if there's say 5000 people up there and just as many or even more people in buildings and streets on the ground.

Obviously, the fastest way to eliminate deaths would be to have these structures over the water or empty ground. But that's still so many people left on these structures itself.

Nobody is going to build these structures if it isn't safe. A single disaster could toss out the entire project of doing technology.

Anyway, disasters WILL happen because they do, but just how much is tolerable before it's deemed too unsafe? I suppose that could be part of plot but I'm not sure how that even works in real life? I don't know about safety thresholds in real life I can look at, especially when this is obviously sci-fi and I don't know where to search.

Finally, I am not sure how to design them. Could they be using anti grav technology? Maybe it's massive ships hovering in the air, either permanently staying still or set to land every now and then so people can travel without needing transport.

Tex: Suspending disbelief is a writing mechanism that’s popular for a very good reason, and shorthanding technology and magic (which in some genres amounts to the same thing) can often help move the plot along better than examining every grain and molecule that makes up a world.

That said, every technology has had at least one disaster during its history. Planes, for example, had a brief period where they used square windows, which had disastrous effects on cabin pressure and kept crashing the plane - now we use rounded windows (Popular Mechanics). And yet, air travel via airplane numbers in the millions nearly every year (Statista).

“Safe” is often a risk assessment measure used to judge whether something is worth doing. It’s unrealistic to assume that a technology will never kill anyone, but historically the general assessment is to constantly improve and make sure any deaths or injuries are accidental and as close to flukes as possible.

I would look at the design of skyscrapers for reference, since they face the same dilemmas as your world, in terms of safety, intra-building transportation like elevators, and area allocation for number of people and utilities.

Ebonwing: Why do the people in your world want to build floating cities? The more pressing the reason, the more likely they are to tolerate safety issues. If living on the ground is for whatever reason extremely dangerous but floating cities are only somewhat dangerous, then people will be far more willing to accept the risks.

As for how you can construct them within your setting, both antigrav and building them on the back of airships work. I would recommend not getting stuck on this too much. Like Tex already said, suspension of disbelief is necessary for readers to engage with scifi or fantasy fiction and most people won’t question it if you say that this world has floating cities powered by antigrav, or whatever you end up going with, and leave it at that.

Wootzel: One factor you might want to throw in to make your floating structures safer is redundancy. Is it possible that there’s more than one technology they can use for this? Are there the aerial equivalent of life boats? Even if you just use one technology to levitate your structures, having two independent systems powered independently could be a good way to make sure that if one goes down, it can still stay up… or at least float down slowly in a controlled way.

#google submitted #technology #construction

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hedgiwithapen · 1 year ago

Note

DHD Prompt: any au, dante realizing cisco has superpowers (+ talking about it for the first time?)

set during 1x16

Dante Ramon was not the kind of person who woke with the sun, or, if he could help it, before midmorning at best. Of course, being a hostage tied to a chair was not exactly conducive to anyone's sleep schedule. So he was awake, fidgeting in his ropes, when his little brother suddenly froze, still holding one of his tiny screwdrivers and the skeletal metal frame of what he'd promised their captors would be a weapon.

"Cisco," he hissed softly, not wanting to attract attention and also not wanting to get punched in the face again if Cisco stopped working and Snart noticed. "Cisco?"

Cisco dropped the screwdriver, falling backwards hard enough to trip on the chain connecting him to what had once been a mobster's desk, now a captive engineer's workbench. He clutched at his heart with both hands, clawing at the fabric of his sweat-through graphic tee. Dante thought he might scream, but his mouth just hung open, wordless.

"Cisco?" Dante asked again, more urgently, less concerned for himself. "What--did you shock yourself, or--" He didn't know the first thing about whatever it was Cisco was doing, but it had to have been dangerous.

Cisco blinked, still clutching at his chest, his breathing a harsh staccato in Dante's ears. "I--I--oh, dios mio, I--."

"What? What happened?" Dante switched to Spanish, just in case anyone was listening.

"I died," Cisco said in the same language. "I was dead, I...felt it. It was so real..."

Dante wanted to scoff a laugh at that. In any other circumstance, he would have. "What do you mean, you died? You're right here, and you gotta finish those things so we can get out of here."

Cisco stood, still wobbly. "I'm not..sure," he said, looking at his hands. "I...It's a theory. Oh god."

"What's a theory?" Dante asked.

"The accelerator. It affected people..."

"Yeah, like the Flash, I do watch the news sometimes."

"It affected people who were near it. They got powers...when they died."

"I'm sorry, what." Dante said, flat. "That's crazy. I can accept weird laser guns that shoot ice and whatever the hell the Flash is, but--"

"Ok, first of all, it's not a laser," Cisco said, "and I'm not going to explain the science of it because you literally could not understand it, and second of all that's where you suspend your disbelief? Really? Right there?"

"It's 9 am," Dante shot back, " and you're saying you just got resurrected."

"No, I.. I think it was... a vision. Of what was supposed to happen today. The Flash... changed time, uh, yesterday. Reset button. I think...none of this was supposed to happen."

"No shit, this isn't exactly how I like spending my nights," Dante said. "Or mornings. or any time of day."

"Shh, I have to think," Cisco said, going back to his tools. He gripped the tiny screwdriver tightly. Dante rolled his eyes.

"Ok, so you died. And what, your power is... having a vision of it?"

"I guess," Cisco said.

Dante clicked his tongue. "The Flash got superspeed, that one dude on the news could set himself on fire and fly, and you get to see... a past that didn't happen. Damn, sucks."

"That dude on the news is engaged to my friend, the one you were flirting with at your party," Cisco said. "And it's not the worst power."

"Not great, either," Dante said, deciding to ignore the part about flirting with a woman who’s fiance might be able to set him on an unfortunate amount of fire. "It's not going to get us out of here."

"Yeah, well that's what my engineering is for," Cisco snapped. "Will you shut up and let me think?"

Dante decided to shut up.

"What are you doing, chatting instead of working?" Snart asked, lumbering in in his stupid parka, even though it was March and the temperatures had been rising steadily. It hadn't even rained, much less snowed, in weeks. "This isn't social hour."

"Sorry," Cisco said quickly, "I'm working as fast as I can."

"Hm," Snart said, moving towards Dante. "Maybe, or maybe you're stalling. Trying to buy your speedster friend time to find you? Don't try to play me, kid. I told you what would happen if you did."

"Wait," Cisco said, voice rising in panic.

Dante braced for the blow.

There was a crash, a shattering of metal and wood and the thud of a body slamming into something solid, and Dante squinted his eyes open.

The desk was in what could only be described as shreds, splinters and fragments scattered across the room, and Snart, bleeding from the head, crumbled against the far wall directly under a dent in the wood paneling.

"Cisco, what the--"

"Ok, I think maybe it's not just visions?" Cisco said, his voice still high and startled. "Uh--" he worked his ankle free, the end of the chain no longer attached to anything, and stumbled over pieces of the 3D printer to reach Dante, something sharp in hand. He sawed through the ropes. "We gotta get out of here."

"You think?" Dante said, standing and regretting immediately. His legs felt like static, all pins and needles, but there was no time for that. "Where are we going?"

Cisco shook his head. "I don't know. Not home. And not STAR Labs."

"Why not?"

"Because that's where my boss killed me."

#dammit hedgi day 2023 #the flash #cisco ramon #dante ramon #yes i did watch episode 16 twenty three times what the fuck of it ??

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