#and make it sound as convincing as possible so that gullible people will continue to throw their money at them

[tariah23]

I’m not rooting for Candace Owens just because she spoke out about israel and Zionists, man.

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker Ever

Summary: Baji dares you to call Mikey a ‘piss boy.’ You’re an idiot, so of course you say you’ll do it. Things don’t go as planned...or do they?

Pairing: Sano Manjirou | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): mentions of omorashi (pissing), but there’s no actual pissing involved

You’re gonna die. Oh, dear God, our holy Lord and savior, you’re gonna fucking die.

Baji may be an idiot, but you’re an even bigger idiot for letting him convince you to call Mikey a piss boy.

It’s a pretty damn good trade-off, you foolishly reasoned when you accepted his offer: $10 and a spin on his motorcycle, which is basically hitting the jackpot for a broke, motorcycle-less middle schooler like yourself.

Now, what you failed to take into consideration, is that you’d literally be risking your life. Had you taken a step back and used your brain for a second or two, you would’ve realized that calling Mikey, of all people, a ‘piss boy’ isn’t worth the measly $10 Baji is currently waving in the air from across the room.

You open your mouth to chicken out. Baji pulls out another $10.

“You wanna waste your allowance? Fuckin’ fine,” you grumble under your breath, making damn well sure your icy glare is received and, yeah, the irritating smirk that widens across Baji’s face when you continue on your path to your demise means your message is read, crystal clear. He just doesn’t give a shit.

Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and practically march towards where Mikey is casually munching on fresh taiyaki, legs crisscrossed as he sits atop an old crate.

Oh, man. What would’ve been worse: interrupting one of Mikey’s naps or interrupting him mid-snack?

(Un)Luckily, you get to experience one of them today!

When your footsteps lead you to where you don’t want to be, you stop to stand directly in front of your target, who doesn’t immediately look up in your presence. Simply keeps munch, munch, munching.

It gives you a chance to hesitate, a chance to rethink your reckless decision, a chance to back out and save yourself from a one-sided ass beating.

Alas, the chance to make that split-second decision vanishes when deep, dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, the owner’s expression reading that he’s not exactly bothered to see you there, rather, simply curious to know what you want.

It’s the perfect moment to get this bet over and done with, so, along with your prayers, you just go outright and say it.

“‘Sup, Piss Boy.”

Mikey stops chewing, and you already feel your heart about to burst out of your chest.

The room comes to a dead silence, making it all the more nerve-wracking when, following a dreadful minute of absolutely nothing, Toman’s leader speaks.

“What.”

It’s the only word he says, voice low, emotionless, and instead of it being a question, it’s a demand, a challenge even, to dare you to reaffirm what couldn’t have possibly come out of your mouth.

You remind yourself to breathe, while mentally preparing yourself to get decked in the face, ‘cause it’s way too late to backpedal now. One of your feet is already in the grave; it wouldn’t hurt to speed things up and launch your entire body in there.

“Nothing. I just- I wanted to know how my, uh...my little piss boy is...doing?”

Well, you lived a good life.

Mikey stares at you, unblinking.

One second passes. Two.

Then-

“Are you into that?”

“I- Huh?”

“Baji said you’re into some weird stuff, but that’s pretty fucking dirty, (Y/n). Even dirtier than Ken-chin’s tastes.”

(”Don’t fucking drag me into this shit.”)

Seeing the horrified confusion on your face, Mikey’s head tilts ever so slightly to the side.

“You want me to take a leak on you, right?” he asks, and that’s when your soul says its farewell, leaving behind a red-faced corpse on the verge of combusting. Bringing a hand to his chin, he adds, “Or, did you want to piss on me?”

You thought getting beat up by Mikey would be bad?

No, no, no.

You’d gladly take that over this humiliation.

“Hey, Baji! What did the couple in your porn mag do? Did they take turns or what?”

And Baji, the piece of shit, can’t hold it in anymore and breaks out in the most obnoxious laughter, the kind that’s loud, unrestrained, and has him doubling over, gasping for air.

“Oh, fuck, this is gold!” He’s wheezing at this point, triggering a few of the others to start laughing as well, including Mitsuya, who, to his credit, at least tries to stifle his laughter. “Ask (Y/n) what he prefers! Ask!”

At the other boy’s persistence, Mikey raises an eyebrow at you, giving you his full attention as though genuinely curious to know what your pissing preferences are. It causes the flush coloring your face to turn 10 shades darker and 10 degrees hotter.

You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that your friends now think you have a piss kink, or the fact that Mikey is open to exploring said kink with you.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“I...” What do you even say in this situation?

“Do you want me to pee on you?” Mikey asks again in a much softer voice, hoping it’ll reassure you into giving him a direct answer. He doesn’t want to scare you, no. Knowing how nervous you get around him, he’s been doing his best to show only the good sides of himself to you.

That must be why he takes your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze to encourage you to speak up. What he doesn’t know, is that as opposed to being comforted by the kind action, it makes you feel mortified, especially at the insinuation of you wanting him to release his bodily fluids on you.

So mortified, actually, that the first thing that comes out of your mouth is an unintentionally shy, “Please, don’t pee on me...”

You realize your mistake the second those words are said.

Ahh! No! That’s not what you were supposed to say!

Why didn’t you say you don’t want anything to do with piss in general?!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Your head is spinning, thoughts going haywire after misspeaking , but what really sends you over the edge is the, admittedly, cute little smile you catch on Mikey’s face. Now, not only is your head in disarray, so is your heart.

“Alright. Since it’s you, I’ll let you do it.”

Nope. That’s it for you. Time to clock out of consciousness.

Thump!

“Oh. He passed out.”

Abrupt as it is, your passing out is of no concern whatsoever to Mikey. Nah, he finds it endearing as hell and crouches down to admire your ‘sleeping’ face.

“He must’ve been super happy,” he fondly muses, completely ignoring Draken’s advice to make sure you’re still breathing in favor of stroking your head and pinching your cheeks. 

(”He might die, dumbass. I’m tellin’ ya.”

“He won’t. (Y/n)’s strong.”)

On the other side of the room, Baji has zero fuel left in him to bark out another laugh at Mikey and his gullibility when it comes to wooing the person he fancies, though he does have the energy to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“Best $20 I’ve ever spent,” he blissfully remarks to Chifuyu.

“Baji-san, this isn’t how you play matchmaker.”

“Dude, this is exactly how you play matchmaker.”

To prove his point, the long-haired teen points back to where Mikey is sitting beside you on the ground, carrying out a normal conversation with Draken, like there isn’t an unconscious person right beside them.

“Ken-chin, where should I take (Y/n) for our first date?”

“Huh? Date? I thought he was just gonna piss on you?”

“That means he likes me, Ken-chin,” Mikey explains, sounding, for all it’s worth, similar to a parent teaching their child a new life lesson. “And if the person I like likes me enough to want to piss on me, then, obviously, I should take him on a date.”

It makes no fucking sense, but if Mikey wants to believe that your love language is spilling less than desirable bodily fluids on each other, then so be it.

Because for him, anything goes as long as it’s you.

Not only are you $20 richer, you also scored yourself a date with someone that would let you take a piss on them and vice versa.

Aren’t you a lucky guy?

[rnelodyy]

C!Dream, the status quo, and why conflict is okay sometimes.

In this fandom, there is a lot of talk about conflict, who causes it, who avoids it, who is to blame for it, et cetera. An argument often heard from c!Dream apologists to justify his abysmal treatment of L’Manburg in general and c!Tommy in specific is “He was just trying to stop people causing conflict! He was protecting the server by stopping these conflict-causing maniacs!”

And it’s not hard to see where they get this idea from, because c!Dream repeats this sentiment a lot, from his “happy family” speech, to the speech during the final disc war about how c!Tommy causes constant conflict, to the fact that he always portrays himself as a reasonable authority figure trying to calm down these feral creatures always fighting with one another (and we’ll get to that idea…).

My reasoning for explaining how c!Dream’s worldview is deeply flawed may be a bit controversial, so I decided to write this essay to explore the following idea:

Sometimes, conflict is good actually.

(all /dsmp /rp, names refer to characters, not content creators)

Conflict, in itself, is morally neutral. It’s the context surrounding the conflict that allows us to ascribe morality to it. This fact makes this topic a LOT harder to discuss, because morality is subjective. What I’m writing here is all my own opinion, you may agree or disagree on some points, I just ask that you read it through and please don’t start shit over this.

Anyway, the context. It’s dependent on a number of factors.

Justification. Why was the conflict started?

Intent. What is the desired outcome for either party?

Proportionality. If the conflict is started out of revenge or punishment, is it proportionate to the wrong committed?

Power Dynamic. Is the person on the receiving end more, less, or equally as powerful as the person starting the conflict?

For example, let’s compare the L’Manburg War for Independence with the intervention during the Final Disc War.

Justification:

Dream declared war on L’Manburg because he saw them as traitors, and the land they occupied as rightfully his. Therefore, them making a country of their own where his rules didn’t apply was a violation of the status quo he wanted to uphold.

Punz and the others intervened because they didn’t want Dream to kill Tommy and/or Tubbo, and were tired of his constant meddling in their affairs.

Intent:

Dream’s intent was to attack L’Manburg until they surrendered, no matter how much hurt he’d cause or how many lives he’d take.

Punz and the other’s intent was to stop Dream from killing Tommy and Tubbo, and stop whatever plan he had to keep the server under control.

Proportionality:

L’Manburg declared independence in response to brutal violence as retribution for clumsy attempts at crime, on land nobody except Wilbur was using, were explicitly pacifistic and invited Dream to make an embassy in their land to discuss trade. Dream responded by declaring war, destroying their land, luring them into a trap and killing them, and continuing to beat them down until they surrendered.

Punz and the others intervened after Dream dragged two teenagers out into the wilderness to fight him, with little chance of them ever returning. This was after months of Dream’s meddling in conflicts he had nothing to do with, trying to control people’s actions, ripping Tommy away from his home and abusing him in secret and, in the end, destroying the place most synonymous with freedom from his rule. They intervened by getting Tommy and Tubbo to safety, letting Tommy (the kid who arguably suffered the most at Dream’s hands) take his items and beat him to death twice, then locking him up in prison.

Power Dynamic:

L’Manburg was significantly less powerful than Dream and his goons, with less skilled fighters and heavily inferior gear. They held their position fairly okay at the start, but after the Final Control Room, they were basically defenseless against Dream’s assault.

Dream had always had unprecedented power on the server. He’s leveled entire countries, crowns and dethrones kings when he feels like it, overruled the decision of a court of law, and in the end, had Tommy and Tubbo completely at his mercy before the intervention. Even beating Dream was seen as such an insurmountable task that it took fourteen people (excluding Clingyduo) to take him down.

The thing about conflict, even violent conflict, is that it’s not always negative. If your sister is being abused by her boyfriend and refuses to report it out of fear, you’re gonna be hard-pressed to find someone unable to sympathize with you if you go over to his house and break his nose.

What is a defining feature of conflict, is that it disrupts the status quo.

That’s not to say that some characters are always disruptors and others always preservers of the status quo. For example, during the Disc War, Tommy is the one trying to preserve and Dream the one trying to disrupt (the status quo being: Tommy owns the discs), and during the L’Manburg War for Independence, Tommy and Wilbur are disrupting while Dream is preserving (the status quo being: Dream has absolute power and the entire server needs to follow his rules).

It’s ALSO not to say that this disruption is always bad, because sometimes, the status quo fucking sucks, and throwing it on its head is the right thing to do. Overthrowing Schlatt is seen by everyone on the SMP and pretty much every fan as morally correct, as while Schlatt being president was the status quo, it meant he was ruling as a dictator, exiling his political opponents, imprisoning and heavily taxing dissenters, being verbally and physically abusive to his cabinet members, and forcing a guest at his festival to execute a sixteen year-old boy for spying for the political opponent he exiled.

Conflict being a genuinely good force of societal change isn’t usually brought up in the fandom though, at least not consciously. A lot of people, both on the server and IRL, see conflict only as a source of hurt and pain, and try to prevent or avoid it as much as possible.

And here’s where Dream differs from someone like Ranboo. Because while both Dream and Ranboo operate on the assumption that all conflict is bad all the time, Ranboo shows this by becoming conflict-avoidant to the extreme, to the point where he refuses to pick sides in pretty much any conflict, no matter how obviously good or evil one side is. Meanwhile, Dream shows this by becoming controlling to the extreme. Mitigating conflict isn’t enough, he needs to control everything to prevent all conflict ever.

In Ranboo’s case, this is less due to ideology and more due to personality. Ranboo is a deeply anxious person, and hates being in the middle of fights. He’s also… not very self-critical? He has issues with self-worth, but he very rarely takes a look in the mirror to inspect what it actually is he believes and says, making him very gullible and convinced of his own righteousness. But while that’s a VERY interesting character trait, Ranboo’s conflict-avoidance doesn’t make him a very good character to examine in the context of conflict and what it means.

So let’s look at Dream. Because, despite claiming to want to stop conflict, Dream CONSTANTLY starts conflicts or escalates existing ones. The L’Manburg War for Independence could’ve been entirely avoided if Dream hadn’t lashed out so heavily at a nation of pacifists who made their own area to avoid violence from authorities. As I explored in my George Vod Analysis, the griefing of George’s house would’ve been a lighthearted dispute between two people if Dream hadn’t taken over the entire thing and turned it into one of the biggest diplomatic crises in the server’s history. Mexican L’Manburg hadn’t even existed for an hour before Dream came by to kill its residents and destroy its land.

So why is Dream so focused on stopping conflict, despite constantly starting it himself? Why is THAT his hill to die on?

Simple. Dream wants to prevent disruptions to the status quo. That status quo being “Dream is the one in power and everyone has to listen to him.”

But you can’t say that out loud. If you say “everyone needs to listen to me otherwise it’s not fair”, you sound like a whiny five year-old at best, and a tyrant at worst. So, instead of saying that, Dream says “I just want to prevent conflict, keep the server peaceful.”

Remember what I said about one party being the disruptor and another being the preserver? Well, Dream’s status in the early days of the server is almost always preserver of the status quo. The only times he’s the disruptor is if disrupting that status quo serves to strengthen the status quo of him being in power. For example: Stealing Tommy’s discs is a disruption of the “Tommy’s discs are his and his alone” status quo, but strengthens the “Dream is the most powerful dude on the server” status quo, because the discs give him power over Tommy.

By fighting L’Manburg, he was trying to preserve the status quo, because having a government on the server meant he no longer had absolute power. Hell, REALLY early on, he decided to kill George and burn all his stuff because George had full diamond while everyone else was still running around in iron armor.

However, after L’Manburg’s independence, Dream’s focus shifted. Instead of preserving the status quo, he’d disrupt it in order to return to the status quo as HE wanted it, with no nations, and himself at the top.

But again, that wouldn’t look good. Making yourself the undisputed ruler of the entire server is not good for optics, so instead, Dream hides behind the excuse that he’s just trying to stop conflict, or seeking retribution for slights against his nation.

By this point, Tommy, the only person who CONSTANTLY refuses to bow to his demands, becomes his scapegoat. Tommy is loud, enjoys chaos and getting on people’s nerves, and causes, admittedly, a LOT of conflict. Lighthearted, non-serious conflict with very little actual consequences, but conflict nonetheless. It’s not hard for him to start smearing Tommy’s name, painting him as this feral child at fault for every conflict ever, mostly because a lot of people already believed something like that to be true.

The idea that Tommy is uniquely destructive or chaotic is complete bullshit. Tommy is definitely on the more chaotic side, but he’s not that much more chaotic or destructive than your average server member, he’s just really loud and annoying about it, which makes the things he DOES do stick out more. But Dream, especially during the Exile Conflict, continuously pushed the idea that Tommy is the only one creating conflict on the server, that Tommy is responsible for all conflict ever, and that without Tommy, everyone would be at peace.

And at some point… Dream started believing this himself.

His speech during the Final Disc War illustrates this perfectly. He tells Tommy that ever since he joined, there’s been nothing but war and terrorism and conflict, and that those originated from the attachments Tommy brought to the server. That, by cutting off his own attachments, exploiting everyone else’s, and getting rid of Tommy, he could restore the old status quo, before L’Manburg, before Tommy, when everything was peaceful and no conflict existed. Except, Tommy is too fun to fuck with, so instead of killing him, Dream was going to lock Tommy up in Pandora’s Vault, probably for the rest of his life, to continue breaking him.

This is a prime example of Dream falling for his own bullshit.

First of all, Tommy didn’t cause all those wars, he was actually on the receiving end of most of them. A vast majority of the wars and terrorism Tommy got caught up in were actually started by Dream, or Dream was actively helping the guy who started it.

Second, Tommy didn’t bring the concept of attachment to the server. He gets very attached to things, true, but attachment is a very basic part of the human condition. Even Dream, the guy openly shunning all attachment, isn't immune to it, in the end, he’s attached to the server as a whole, and Tommy, who he gave almost biblical importance in his narrative. Like Tommy said, if you have no attachment to things, why does anything matter at all?

Third, getting rid of Tommy and controlling the entire server with their attachments… that wouldn’t have restored the status quo, because the status quo exactly as Dream envisioned it never existed. He’s not chasing a past that was ruined by Tommy, he’s chasing an idealized fairytale version of the past where everyone was friends and frolicked around in the fields and there was never any conflict, before Tommy came along and ruined everything. Before Tommy joined, there was a SHIT ton of conflict, from minor disputes over theft, to the above-mentioned incident where Dream destroyed George’s stuff, to the lemon tree conflicts that wound up being taken to court!

Except, even this idea of Dream wanting to restore an idealized, made-up past is only partially true. What Dream is looking to return to and uphold is a world where he was the only authority and nobody questioned him. The status quo he wants to return to, no matter how much he denies it, is the one where everyone was at his mercy and he could do whatever he wanted without impunity. However, because he’s convinced himself that conflict is the issue, not disobedience, even if his plan succeeded, he’d have to keep the entire server in a chokehold to get them to follow his ideal plan.

Because conflict is inevitable. Anywhere where there’s two or more people sharing a space, you’re going to run into conflict at some point. People will have disagreements, they will fight, they will have miscommunications, they will have a bad day or accident and antagonize someone else.

Resolving these issues through conflict, whether it’s verbal, physical or legal, will result in a healthier community in the long run, because people’s pent-up frustrations will get an outlet, and people will try to hash out compromises or accommodations based on the reactions they get. It’s not always the ideal solution, but it’s better than just sitting everyone down, telling them to play nice, and smacking them over the back of the head as soon as they start complaining.

But conflict threatens the status quo. And as Dream involves himself in more and more conflict, they increasingly start threatening HIS status quo. So in order to maintain his status quo, conflict needs to be stomped out as soon as it crops up, no matter how minor it is.

So, now to paint a timeline through this lens.

Dream started off as the ultimate power on the server, able to do whatever he wanted without consequence. Tommy joined and threatened that status quo, but he was just one guy, so keeping him away and occupied wasn’t too hard. It was fun, even.

Then L’Manburg came, and posed the first substantial threat to Dream’s rule. Dream tried crushing this rebellion before it had a chance to take root, but in the end, Tommy traded his discs (the things Dream was using to control him) for L’Manburg’s independence. The status quo changed, L’Manburg was here to stay.

However, L’Manburg still posed a threat to Dream’s rule, so manipulating events to destroy it became Dream’s next priority. He supported Schlatt during the election in the hope he’d destabilize the nation, then sided with Pogtopia in secret to help overthrow the government, then helped Wilbur with the TNT to blow L’Manburg sky high, then betrayed Pogtopia for Schlatt’s side for the revival book. When Pogtopia won, Dream was egging Techno on through whispers to try to get him to go ape shit, so with Techno’s withers and Wilbur’s TNT, L’Manburg was gone, and the old status quo had been restored.

Except it hadn’t been. L’Manburg was rebuilt, with Tubbo at the helm this time, and a new status quo was put in place, with L’Manburg still there and still a threat. However, with Wilbur’s death, Tommy was left almost completely unprotected, and Dream took his chance to get Tommy thrown out of the country, hoping to get his biggest threat out of the way, as well as being able to sink his claws into the L’Manburg Cabinet.

Dream isolated Tommy in exile and tried to break him to the point where he wouldn’t put up any resistance. During this time, he also commissioned the prison, which he claimed to only be for the most dangerous members of the server, but is a pretty transparent attempt to enforce his rule by making a place where he can stick anyone who disobeys him. The server is slipping more and more out of his control, with more factions popping up and more people outright defying him, so like any dictator, he takes harsher and harsher measures to stay on top.

Tommy escapes exile, and while Dream is keeping tabs on him, he can’t directly control him anymore. So, to prevent Tommy from returning to L’Manburg and stopping his plans at disrupting the status quo, he blows up the community house, frames Tommy for it, and goes to Tubbo to demand Tommy’s disc, the only reason destroying L’Manburg was disadvantageous for him. Tommy jumps in to defend himself and takes L’Manburg’s side, but in the end, Dream takes both the discs, then destroys L’Manburg with Techno.

By this point, the status quo Dream wanted to craft is almost complete. L’Manburg is gone, there are no other major factions threatening his rule, and he’s pretty much set a precedent for what happens to dissenters. All he needs to do now is get rid of Tommy.

Except he can’t kill him. Over time, Dream has become obsessed with Tommy, to the point where he’s started seeing Tommy as the lynchpin of the server that everyone else gravitates around. Tommy is almost a living MacGuffin: he brings chaos and attachment which gives him power, but in the right hands, that power can be harnessed to create order.

(This is absolute nonsense of course, Tommy is just A Guy, his presence itself doesn’t create chaos, and controlling him doesn’t mean controlling the entire server because a lot of people just plain don’t give a shit.)

So instead of killing him, Dream tries to put him in prison. He even outright says that he wants to finish what he started in exile, this time with even tighter control and no possibility for escape.

He goes to kill Tubbo for multiple reasons: Tubbo is no longer useful to him, Tubbo can be used as leverage to keep Tommy compliant in prison (the possibility to revive someone’s best friend is a pretty valuable bargaining chip), and Tubbo would absolutely raise hell if Dream threw his best friend in jail for no reason.

If Dream had gotten his way, he’d be able to blackmail everyone on the server into compliance. Tommy, his scapegoat, would’ve been in prison, so now without a scapegoat, he could’ve probably gone one of two ways.

He could’ve created a new scapegoat to blame all new conflict on. Quackity would’ve been a good candidate, he’s VEHEMENTLY anti-Dream, and would’ve had no qualms about starting shit with him. Whether it was with El Rapids or with Las Nevadas, Quackity would’ve been the biggest anti-Dream voice in Tommy’s absence. So c!Dream would keep Quackity around, blaming him for everything that goes wrong… Until Quackity would get too uppity and either gets murdered or put in jail with Tommy, and the cycle repeats until either people rise up, or everyone who isn’t completely subservient is in prison.

Or, he could’ve cracked down EVEN HARDER on conflict. Anyone creating a new nation gets stomped into the dirt, anyone fighting over resources gets murdered, anyone squabbling over griefed property gets thrown in prison for weeks at a time, all the while their property and pets that they care about more than anything else get dangled in front of their noses. Anyone who’s ever read any more than five pages about the dynamics of dictatorships can see that this kind of repression is basically ASKING for revolution, especially since Dream has shunned all friendships at this point and his only ally is only there because Dream pays him.

(this is all speculation, we don’t know what would’ve actually happened, dont yell at me)

The status quo Dream is trying to return to never existed, and the one he creates in the process isn’t sustainable. Stopping every conflict ever is completely unsustainable and detrimental to the larger community, which Dream knows, because he uses conflict CONSTANTLY to get his way, while still presenting himself as a peacekeeper. What he’s really against is disruptions of the status quo, because the status quo allows him to do whatever he wants and control the server as much as he wants.

Conflict isn’t inherently bad. Some conflicts are harmless, some are necessary disruptions of the status quo. Conflict itself is morally neutral, and trying to prevent all conflict ever leads into some… iffy territory. Remember when Ranboo yelled at the L’Manburgians for participating in conflict the day before Doomsday?

Anyway. Please examine situations with more nuance than “conflict bad”, it’ll make for much better analysis. Trust me. /nm

[xbunnybunz]

Weak Hero University (2/?) [Reader x Weak Hero]

Summary: I know you assholes are crying now that the first season of Weak Hero is over. But you’ve got other things to focus on, like where the fuck you’re going to live after getting kicked out of your old dorm. Luckily, you’ve found one last open room on the other side of Weak Hero University. What could possibly go wrong?

Genre: Romance, Humor, Slice of Life

Date: 6/1/2021

A brief introduction of everyone later, you haul a suitcase into the room while Ben noisily and clumsily pulls on his shorts, after much persuading from his friends.

“You’re living… Here? In the boys dorms?” Eugene asks, tagging beside carrying your schoolbag. “Isn’t that against the campus policy?”

You park the suitcase beside by your room and sigh, popping your back briefly.

“I’m just as confused as you guys are, but the keys here seem to be for this room here.” You allow a single gold-hued key to dangle from your fingers on a cheap polyester lanyard, Eugene’s eyes follow the menacing stare of the school mascot printed on the side until you pull it out of his sight.

“Let’s see just how fucked up this school is when it comes to money extortion.” You put the key in the door and hear a tell-tale metallic ‘click.’

“Wow.” A voice says from the couches. “Pretty fucked up.”

You sigh, shoulder slumping forward. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Most of the items go into your room without much hassle at all. A suitcase full of cute PJs you and your nonexistent best gal roommates could rave over, a plastic box full of face masks you’d probably never be able to use without being made fun of, and a waterlogged ziplock baggie half-full with notes (and corn chips) from last semester.

What? A folder? What the fuck is a folder?

A boy with silver hair passes by and begins to say something to you, but seems to debate better options when he sees the plastic baggie on the floor.

Feeling slighted somehow, you ask Eugene who he is once he’s out of earshot.

Eugene laughs and begins to speak but an arm looping around his neck cuts him off.

A pair of shimmering emerald eyes meet your own, but it’s clouded with a shadow of mischief. “You haven’t heard? That’s the white mamba of E-quad. He’s fearlessly beaten bastards so bloody with belts that we have metal detectors installed at the dining hall entrances now!”

“Stop exaggerating, Alex.” Eugene chokes out, sounding mildly discontented while desperately trying to pry the arm from around his neck.

“Wait, that was because of him?”

Eugene and Alex both freeze, brows furrowed. “Wait, you weren’t kidding?” Eugene asked.

“I was.” Alex says.

They both fix their gazes on you, and you’re suddenly struck with the memories of needing to surrender your lockpicking kit in front of several dozen freshmen behind you, and the hot desire to bury that memory consumes you.

“Haha, me too.”

They don’t seem convinced.

Before the conversation about buckle-assisted homicide can continue, a large shadow descends upon your form and a great arm reaches out from the heavens above. “Here, I grabbed this from the kitchen in case you needed a snack.”

You look up and see Gerard, the tallest and blindest of the group. You accept his gift of a single (1) lunchables capri-sun with much adoration in your heart.

“Thanks Gerard.”

He gives you a smile to remind the audience that he is, simply put, cool as fuck.

“No problem.”

Well, one problem. You eye the last bit of your luggage sitting at the doorway like a heaping pile of hot flaming garbage. It’s an amalgamation of the extraneous bits of your personality you’ve collected over the course of the past semester at Weak Hero University and maybe a forgotten bagel. Despite your previous roommate’s pleads for you to throw some of it out, you’d be damned if you weren’t a treacherous little hoarder. Simply put, it was a huge box of insignificant trinkets that made for a very significant problem. You had gotten lucky to cross paths with a cute but gullible junior earlier, who you immediately marked as prey and flirted with before unceremoniously dumping your crap on him to carry across campus. But now you’d have to pick up the box of crap yourself, which would prove to be a challenge with how little you actually wanted to be responsible for your own items.

The three boys see you eying the box and you perk up immediately, eyes glimmering with the possibility of wooing the fine gentlemen into helping a oh-so-meek lass like yourself.

You twirl a piece of hair between your fingers and bat your eyelashes at nothing at all, pouting your lips and hoping they weren’t too crusty. “Oh, I’m so tired. How am I ever going to move that big and heavy box?”

You stare dismally into an off-corner and attempt to look forlorn, grimacing when you see a weird  construction of a human-sized dorito-chip statue made of empty dorito bags beside the television. This was the moment your main love interest would swoop in and offer his servitude to you, dewey roses blossoming on convenient parts of the screen. Here it was, your very own shoujo moment!

But there’s no offer. In fact, you stare so long at the doritos statue that you begin to get spots in your vision.

When you turn back, the boys are by the box in question, though they are not attempting to move it at all. Instead, they lament over the problem with you as opposed to offering a solution.

“Ah, that thing looks so heavy. Sucks to be you.” Alex laughs.

Euguene shakes his head. “Right? I wouldn’t even be able to get a corner off the ground.”

Gerard places a thoughtful hand on the back of his neck. “You should probably save the capri-sun for after moving everything.”

Ugh.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Ben meanders out of his room. This time, all his articles of clothing are intact.

“Hey, what are you guys staring at?”

Yes! This was your movie-moment after all!

“Oh Ben! Thank god you’re here.” You resume your maiden in distress pose. “I was just so tired from the trip, my feeble heart and body can’t bear to-“

Alex pokes his head up when he hears Ben approaching, waving him over. “Look at all this shit she has. She’s like those people on My Strange Addiction!”

Irritated that he’s cut you off, you try to continue. “I won’t ever be able to lift all that on my own-!”

“Aren’t you talking about Hoarding, Buried Alive?” Gerard asks, clearly already losing interest in the luggage.

“Actually, I think that would be Hoarders, the reality television show that aired a little before My Strange Addiction took flight! It’s actually really interesting how that all started out, if you want to hear about it.”

You scowl at the back of Eugene’s head and stop quickly when Ben shoots a grin at you.

He puffs out his chest in a stupid himbo way and thrusts his thumb into his chest. “I can move this for you! No sweat! Just tell me where you want it!”

Sweet! You were about to resort to desperate begging, but those plans are cancelled!

You clasp your hands together and sigh, envisioning a world where men with muticolored hair fall in love with you.

“Oh, anywhere in here is fine, thank you so much Ben!”

As he goes in to lift it, you can see his muscles straining against the well-fitting fabric of his shirt.

Oh yes, this is definitely worth the dorming fee.

“Ben, you’re so sweet for helping me with this!” He ambles past you while struggling to hold the lid of the box closed. A strained voice comes from beyond the green rim of the bin. “Yep, no problem at all.”

You follow him into your room, tailing him while rambling about how grateful you were.

“You know, there was a junior who I met by the campus square on my way here. He helped me move everything to this building, but he struggled with that box a lot longer than you! I’m actually not sure how you’re even getting it off the ground without a wedge and trolley, but boy am I glad!”

Ben stops at the foot of your bed, barely able to peek over the edge of the bin. “Erm. Is here okay?”

“Hey I mean, as strong as that guy was, you’re definitely cuter than him. I was almost sad to see him go, but that’s the life of a busy woman!”

“Pleasemyarmsareshaking-”

“As great as all this is, I’m actually really excited to make friends with everyone! Given these strange circumstances that usually only happen to indulge borderline psychotic fans, we should take advantage and-”

Ben drops the box on the floor and you screech, a pain shooting up your leg and pumping adrenaline into your veins.

“-FUCK! Shit!”

Ben freezes and realizes the absolutely fuckery he has just caused, but before he can react, you grab the corner of the box and throw it off your foot in a show of brute gorilla strength, crumpling to the floor in agony.

The boys have their heads poked into the doorway, curious after hearing two cuss words successively. They blanche when they realize the situation.

“Oh fuck. My bad?” Ben wants to comfort you but is frankly quite scared to after seeing your display of power.

“Did she just throw that thing with one hand?” Gerard asks.

Alex stares at the scene before him. “What the hell happened to her foot?”

Eugene titters about nervously, playing with his fingers “Do we have first aid?”

From the kitchen, a deadpan voice is heard. “Where’s my capri sun?”

[putschki1969]

Hi puts, I just saw Keiko mv “toori ame” yesterday. It’s so beautiful, can’t wait for her 2nd album ^^. But she will be released full mv on her channel or full mv is on her DVD/CD ?!. Of course, even though she won’t release full mv, I always support her for the best ^^.

Hello there!

Yesssss! I love Tōri Ame SO MUCH. Been listening to it on repeat ever since Tuesday. The MV does indeed look gorgeous, I really adore how they are playing with light and shadow. Plus, the somber setting fits the tragic sound of the melody and her singing perfectly.

Funny coincidence that you would ask about this (or maybe not a coincidence at all?) The other day I actually posted a reply under the MV because I kept seeing a stubborn person trying to spread straight-up lies. By now I am convinced that this person is a troll because there is no other way someone would be THIS adamant about sharing wrong information with gullible fans. You probably saw this as well...?

Everyone, please be careful when encountering unsourced information like that, don't believe random people in YouTube comment sections talking shit out of their arses when it is quite obvious that they have absolutely no idea what they are talking about.

Now here are some facts 〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

The short MV for "Nobody Knows You" as well as the one for "Tōri Ame" have a very unnatural looking fade-out instead of a proper ending. For everyone with at least one decently functional eye it should be pretty obvious that both videos continue after the point where they made the cut for these promo releases.

Let's also take a look at this from a logical point of view, shall we? Making MVs is cost-intensive. While both MVs look like they have a rather simple and “cheap” production, you still need at least a small crew and a lot of time to get something like this done. Based on economic reasons alone, they wouldn't invest into all this stuff and put so much effort into it just to shoot a third of the MV and not the whole thing. Following this line of reasoning, it would make no sense at all to shoot a full video and not eventually release it in some shape or form.

The description for the DVD/BD content of KEIKO's 2nd album literally contains "Nobody Knows You and others (yet to be decided)". Quite clearly they are referring to the MV here. The album description in various online stores confirms this by explicitly listing it as "MUSIC VIDEO". When they released this information, the short MV for "Tōri Ame" had not been published yet so naturally, they wouldn't mention it. But it would make sense to include that as well. Now of course they are not saying whether they will be adding a short or a full version of the MVs but typically, bonus DVDs/BDs contain FULL MVs. After all, you are paying a lot of extra money for the album with an added video disc so the content better be worth it.

This would also explain why they are choosing not to release the full MVs on YouTube (yet). If they are already available for free, it is less likely that people will pay additional money to get these videos with the album. That's Marketing 101.

So yeah, that's everything I've got for you. Make of this whatever you will. I am not saying there is a 100% chance that we will get the full MVs on the bonus DVD/BD. KEIKO's agency have made some very questionable decisions in the past so I am not ruling out that they will f**k up this release as well. It's quite possible that they only did a half-arsed job making those MVs and would have the audacity to sell super overpriced albums with mediocre bonus content. However, taking the above points into consideration, I believe it is more likely that we will get the full PVs as bonus feature. Sometime after the release, they might even publish these videos on YouTube, who knows.

I encourage EVERYONE to preorder a copy of KEIKO's album. Feel free to wait until they release more details regarding the contents. No need to preorder the album this early in advance but it IS IMPORTANT that you SUPPORT KEIKO in any way you can. I recommend getting the album with the bonus DVD since it has a reasonable price (unike the LE which is WAY TOO expensive - I’ll still get it tough :P). Overseas fans can buy the album on CDJapan (or Amazon.co.jp or HMV). These stores ship worldwide or at least to a wide variety of countries all across the world.

[mst3kproject]

Countess Dracula

In Countess Dracula we have the tale of a lonely old woman who discovers that she can make herself young again, just so long as she doesn’t mind having to murder somebody to do it (she doesn’t).  Our antiheroine uses this newfound youth to seduce the least interesting man in the movie, until at last her misdeeds catch up with her when her latest victim turns out to have been the wrong demographic to make the magic work.

Does that sound familiar?  Yeah, this is a very Leech-Woman-y movie.  It stars Nigel Green, the news announcer from Gorgo, and comes to us from Hammer Studios, home of Moon Zero-Two.  The director, Peter Sasdy, never made anything that wound up on MST3K but he did work on the legendary Pia Zadora bomb, The Lonely Lady.  Countess Dracula is not a wild ride, as its pace is fairly sedate, but it is certainly a ride nonetheless.

The count of somewhere or other has just died, leaving his realm to his nineteen-year-old daughter Ilona – and technically also leaving his spiteful widow, Elizabeth, free to marry her longtime lover Captain Dobi.  Most people would consider this a perfectly acceptable retirement, but Elizabeth is impossible to satisfy.  She doesn’t want to grow old while Ilona (currently on her way home from finishing school in Vienna) rules the county and gets all the attention.  When Elizabeth discovers that bathing in the blood of virgins restores her youth, she embraces murder as a hobby and has Ilona locked up so she can stay in charge while posing as her own daughter!  In that guise she sets out to pursue handsome young Imre, the son of her husband’s most trusted general, while jealous Dobi can only sit and seethe.

I bet you think you can guess how this movie ends.  I bet you think Dobi tells Imre the countess’ secret, and the two of them defeat her.  Or else the real Ilona escapes and meets him, they expose Elizabeth as a fraud, and then get married and rule the land with justice and mercy or something.  That’s what would happen in a normal movie… but you guys know I don’t watch normal movies.  Maybe instead you’re guessing that nobody does shit and Elizabeth just carries on her merry way until she’d destroyed by her own hubris?  That’s more like it.

Not all of Hammer’s films were good, but they were generally pretty well-made and Countess Dracula is not an exception.  The elaborate costumes and sets are very nice, although areas like the town square are obviously artificial and the old lady makeup on Ingrid Pitt as Elizabeth is pretty bad.  There’s also a young woman made up in very ugly brownface as a ‘gypsy girl’, except they totally forgot to do any makeup on her for the scene where her naked corpse is discovered in the woods.

There are even a couple really well-done moments of storytelling and worldbuilding.  A scene in a pub, when everybody falls silent as Dobi and Imre enter, shows eloquently how terrified the peasants are of the aristocracy. Elizabeth gets some chilling bits when we see the true depth of her depravity.  She sees no difference between controlling people through love and controlling them through fear – either way, she gets what she wants, and their feelings don’t matter.  My favourite detail is the subtle cultural conflict going on in the background, as the characters speak disparagingly of ‘Turks’ and yet have clearly picked up some bits and pieces of Ottoman culture.

Although its plot outline is very similar to The Leech Woman, the philosophy of Countess Dracula is completely different.  The Leech Woman didn’t really give June a viable alternative to her poisoned fountain of youth.  Old women in its world can only sit around and drink and know that nobody loves them. Elizabeth, however, has a possible future – Dobi repeatedly notes that he’s been waiting twenty years for the opportunity to legitimatize his relationship with her.  He would have happily devoted himself to her for the rest of his life, and the two of them could have lived in retirement while Imre and Ilona gave them grandchildren to spoil.  Dobi even says there is dignity in age, directly contradicting The Leech Woman by applying it equally to both sexes.  June was more or less forced to become a monster, while Elizabeth chooses it explicitly.

So there’s honestly some pretty good stuff in this film.  Where it unfortunately falls on its face is with the characters, none of whom can really be said to have an arc, and the ending, which is rushed and unsatisfying.

The movie’s main focus is always on Elizabeth, but she refuses to grow or learn anything at any point.  She starts off as a nasty, selfish bitch and just stays a nasty, selfish bitch.  She has no actual master plan, but seems convinced that she can keep up this charade indefinitely, even though Dobi points out the impracticality of that.  Dobi believes she’s going mad, but the truth seems to be she’s just horrible.  She is evidently terrified of growing old, but that is never explored.  We see her react to aging, rather violently at times, but we never find out what the root of this fear is.

All this means that Elizabeth, despite being the focal character, is never sympathetic.  June in The Leech Woman at least started off as somebody we could pity, before she descended into depravity.  Elizabeth is a terrible person from the get-go, as illustrated in the very opening when she has her coachman run over a peasant who wants her to fulfill a promise her late husband made her.

Imre and Ilona are pretty much complete ciphers. Imre spends the entire movie in Elizabeth’s thrall one way or another.  He is madly in love with her in her guise as Ilona, and after finding out the truth he’s too scared of her to openly defy her.  The only personality trait he manifests is gullible foolishness, and any sympathy we might have had for him evaporates when he cheerfully kisses a barmaid’s tit on the same day when he’s proposed marriage to the woman he believes is his true love.  Ilona spends most of the movie locked up in some mute peasant’s hut doing not much. When she finally enters the story properly, she comes across as stunningly stupid.

The character who does the most to try to thwart Elizabeth is her lover Dobi, but he’s less interested in stopping her from killing virgins than he is in having her to himself.  He gets Imre drunk and tosses him in bed with the barmaid in the hope that Elizabeth will reject him, and later takes Imre to see Elizabeth bathing in blood to youthen herself.  These things don’t work, partly because Imre is an idiot and partly because Elizabeth is always more evil than he thought she was, but at least he tries.

At the end of the movie, Elizabeth’s latest bloodbath wears off in the middle of her wedding to Imre, and she runs off to murder Ilona in order to make herself young again.  Imre tries to stop her and gets stabbed for his trouble, which does at least expose Elizabeth’s evildoing to one and all, and she and Dobi are hanged. What happens to Ilona I’m not sure, but I know they didn’t have therapists in the seventeenth century.  Nobody wins here.  It’s a downer for everybody, including the superstitious peasants, who will continue to be terrified of their rulers now that their worst fears have been confirmed.

Several things might be made of the fact that it’s young women Elizabeth is killing.  It’s interesting to note that the idea of male virginity is never even brought up.  We could contrast two depictions of motherhood, in the form of Elizabeth’s jealousy of Ilona versus Juli the nurse’s unconditional love for her.  There’s Imre’s description of ‘Ilona’ as embodying all aspects of womanhood, to which Dobi replies that no woman can be maiden, mother, and whore all at once… yet that is just what Elizabeth is trying to be.  What I find interesting in this, however, is how the movie depicts Elizabeth’s own internalized misogyny, in the fucked-up attitudes she displays towards youth, beauty, and gender.

Elizabeth feels that age and experience have made her undesirable.  Dobi assures her that he finds her as attractive as he ever did, but she evidently does not believe him, and her mistreatment of her female servants has a definite note of jealousy in it.  She kills young virgins not only to gain their desirability, but because she hates them for what they have and she does not.

What’s unusual is that she applies this same attitude towards the men in her life.  Elizabeth is no longer attracted to Dobi, because he is old and experienced. Their affair has gone on for years, and in Dobi’s mind this has only deepened his love for her – but Elizabeth is tired of it and wants something new.  Imre is young, handsome, and innocent.  He has no wealth of his own and has not yet really accomplished much in life, but Elizabeth doesn’t care.  If all she has to be is young and pretty, then how could she ask anything more of him?

Here, Dobi and Elizabeth represent two different versions of gender equality as it applies to sexual attractiveness, with him raising Elizabeth to his level, and her lowering Dobi and Imre to hers!  Elizabeth treating the men in her life as she has been treated illustrates the inequality quite sharply, but what ultimately destroys her is applying the same standards to herself.  She believes so totally that nothing else matters as long as she is beautiful that she doesn’t care what she has to do to accomplish it, or who sees her do it.  In the end, she is undone by her own self-loathing.

[prettyblfan]

Coffee Shop Boy

Chapter Two

~

Just as he thought by the time he had finished his shift and set off for school Sorawit managed to completely forget about his encounter with very mysterious That.

~

As he walked into his classroom he instantly locked eyes with his best friend Nam. Despite only being in Viangpa Mork for only 3 months him and Nam seemed to connect instantly, she practically took Sorawit under her wing because he was too gullible for his own good. During his first week of school some boys in their class convinced him that the girls toilet was actually the boys toilet, ever since then she's felt very protective over him. However, this was practically the same for Sorawit after all Nam was pretty, popular and funny a complete package so he felt like if was his job to protect from all the shameless creeps that through themselves at her.

Sorawit pulled out his seat next to Nam and smiled,

"Have you done the maths homework" he cheekily asked putting on his sweetest voice. He plan to do it this morning but all the customers decided to pack in all at once so in the end he didn't have any time to finish it.

"No, I though you would do it! that's why I didn't bother" Nam said pulling a pout while she flopped onto the desk in front of her.

"Ahh, why don't you ask one of the multiple guys who have a crush on you" Sorawit responded, despite how calm they both seemed the end result of not handing in homework was quite harsh. They'd get one or two whole weeks of detention. As they went to a very high ranked and respected school it was only natural that standards were set to such a high level, but regardless they couldn't help but think it was stupid.

"No way, they always end up expecting soo much more in return, i can't handle the entitlement." Nam said dryly her voice dripping with disgust.

Sorawit knew exactly what she meant, whenever she'd show the smallest bit of kindest or even ask for a favour they always seemed to think that they deserved something in return. And that something was her body. In alot of situations although Sorawit couldn't fight he'd end up stepping in and trying to protect her.

"Umm, I guess we'll just have to settle for one week of detention then." Sorawit laughed after all his friend's safety was his top priority.

Just as both Nam and Sorawit were prepared to accept their fate one of the girls in their class came in yelling,

"Miss Jane isn't in."

It was this one line that seemed to save their lives, miss Jane was their maths and foreign language teacher as well as a tutor at the school. She was only strict because wanted the best for them but sometimes she could really be too ruthless.

As they no longer had a teacher for two of their lesson both Nam and Sorawit messed about, joking and talking the entire time.

For Sorawit the rest of the day went by without a hitch.

~

By the end of school Sorawit felt like death, maybe waking up at 3 am wasn't going to work for him. As he almost feel asleep against his bike Nam flicked his head.

"Are you gonna give me a ride home today or not" Nam said impatiently as she hopped onto the back of his bike (Sorawit is too much of a soft boy to be riding round on a motorbike, so he has a bicycle a yellow one at that).

Before Sorawit could respond the most obnoxious sounding voice echoed out.

"Nam!"

Standing at the gate was a couple of boys probably a year older than them. They were all in Sorawit's eyes dressed like gangsters, their pants were unnecessarily low and they all opted for darker colours (yes this is what gangsters look like in Sorawit's mind, maybe mine too). The one that called out to Nam was tall but not that handsome the only thing that stood out about him was the polished black motorcycle next to him.

Sorawit looked at Nam puzzled.

"It's a long story, just ignore them." Nam said urging Sorawit to hurry up.

Sorawit despite being known for not being very quick witted caught on quite fast, this must be one of Nam's countless admirers.

He pulled Nam along on his adorable yellow bike and although others may not not agree with him, Nam in fact said it was too girly. Regardless Sorawit didn't see anything wrong with it. It was just the right amount of cute, the yellow made it stand out and the small daisies dotted about the bike made it even more pefect in Sorawit's eyes.

As they approached the gates they were quickly blocked, just as Sorawit had expected. However, Sorawit knew for a fact they wouldn't try anything as long as they were on school property, but unfortunately he couldn't say the same for when they had left.

"Nam let's hang out today, on me" he said eying her up and down.

"Pong, I remember telling you I was busy when you asked me yesterday." She replied obviously not interested in hanging out with him at all.

"What, busy hanging out with this loser instead." The guy now known as Pong spoke sizing up Sorawit. Eventhough he was tall Sorawit was indeed 100% bone.

"Pong." Nam warned, it was quite clear that she had enough, half because she knew that this would end alot worse for Sorawit than for her. And the other half was tired of guys constantly thinking she was interested in them.

"Nam, what does he have that I dont." Pong paused briefly looking at Sorawit before bring his eyes back to Nam.

"Now don't be stupid."

It was that line that made Sorawit snap.

"Her not wanting to hang out with you isn't being stupid." He said standing tall trying to make himself appear as tough as possible.

"What?" Pong replied before laughing along with the rest of his friends, they all looked completely amused.

Nam quickly sensed things were going to take a turn for the worst if things continued going the way that they were.

"Pong I'm seriously busy today I have a bunch of work to catch up on, I have alot more time on the weekend let's hang out then" she spoke alot softer.

"Huh, fine." Pond said a lot calmer now maybe because Nam was being a lot more docile or because a teacher was approaching.

~

The whole situation was over rather quickly after that, Pong and his group of friends had left before the teacher arrived and Nam had explained to that said teacher that the whole thing was a misunderstanding.

Sorawit was now sitting in the Pink Lilly attempting to complete his homework as the staff around him began to prepare for the evening shift. He was thinking about the conversation that he had with Nam while he was taking her home.

She said playing along was always the safer options especially with guys like that.

It made him worry to the point he had to convince her not to go and see him on the weekend.

"What's wrong you're pulling a pout." Ploy said squeezing his cheeks with a soft smile.

Ploy was a University student in her 20s that worked at the Pink Lily part time, she was kind and energetic but she was always in other peoples business.

"Umm I'm fine" Sorawit mumbled out before resuming his homework that he had been neglecting for the past half hour.

Before Ploy could prod for more information, Bun had stormed and was clearly in a mood. A way worse one than usual.

"Who does he think he is?" Fuming Bun slammed his hand down on the front counter.

"Why do handsome men think its okay to be so arrogant" Bun continued to rant furiously.

"P'Bun????" Sorawit called utterly confused, who could have made him so angry.

"Bun, what's wrong?" Ploy also questioned after all seeing her boss this angry was rare.

"Huh, what's wrong. You won't believe what happened today!" Bun responded quickly pulling out a seat. Finally seeming to calm down he recited what took place earlier today.

Bun had gone into work for his regular morning shift at 3am hence why he wasn't there to help ease Sorawit into his first shift. But the real trouble began after his long lunch break around 4ish when a young man was rushed in with a bullet wound, Bun was assigned to treat him. So naturally once he heard the man was accompanied by two other men he had quickly gone to question them after all bullet wounds weren't very common in Viangpa Mork. When he had confronted them he was ridiculed and mocked (more so softly teased, but okay Bun. I'll have to make a special chapter about their first meeting after all this is a That x Sorawit centered story) by a tall well dressed handsome man which only pissed him off more. He'd come to know that the arrogantly handsome man was Tan.

In his 3 months in Viangpa Mork he had only heard from other residents that Tan was one of the many sons of a very affluent family that owned multiple business in the city, and he had been doing a lot of work out here recently.

But the icing on the cake for Bun was that everyone loved him, not the police nor a single soul had come to question them or see what was going on. The whole situation was perfectly swept under the rug.

Bun had finished his story with a huff, just retelling it had seemed to annoy him.

"Wow, i mean it is expected after all rumour is that their family does dabble in..." Ploy trailed off unsure if she should finish her sentence. Tan and his family were doing way more for Viangpa Mork than the governor, in the past couple years their investments had gotten them things they never thought they'd see. Like new school buildings and more focus placed on education. They had even gotten Ploy into university through their Helping the Youth fund before that she never thought she would even have the opportunity to go.

"In what?" Sorawit asked, he hadn't been able to catch onto what she was implying like Bun had.

"Never you mind, my shift starts now so I'll see you later" Ploy wore a light smile before returning to work.

Bun had assumed it would have been something like that but he really thought Viangpa Mork was a quite and unproblematic town.

"Ah, Sorawit how was your shift this morning" Bun asked realising that he had been to caught up in himself to ask.

"It was fine but," it was at this moment that Sorawit had remembered his encounter with That.

"But what?" Bun said urging him to continue.

So, for the remainder of the evening shift until the start of the late evening shift Sorawit proceed to tell Bun about the oh so mysterious That. Although he sub consciously left out his heart pains and stomach twists that he felt around the boy, the rest of the story was relayed exactly as it happened.

After he had finished Bun had agreed the boy was strange and that in future he should try to keep his distance.

~

Sorawit had quickly retired for the night after he had finished talking to Bun feeling completely exhausted.

As he laid in bed,

When he was just about to fall asleep for a split second the very mysterious That flashed across his mind.

Regardless of what Bun had said earlier a part of him couldn't help but hope that just maybe he would see him again.

~

At last I have done, I hope you like this chapter. Cause i really do.

Oof my hate for men really showed at Nam's part, but do not worry I shall not allow for creepy old men or men at that to get their hands on her.

Any way onto the next chapter! That visiting his favourite coffee boy once again.

Again not proof read cause I live on the edge.

[lilikags]

Aluxia Fanris OC Voicelines

Disclaimer: we don’t know much about fontaine so I’ll scrap her if canon makes it difficult for her to exist Q_Q

I’ve written a lot for her, so this’ll be broken into many different parts [see links to other parts below!!]

link to picrew

Introduction | About | Personality | Likes/Dislikes + Appearance | Backstory | Vision Backstory | Combat Abilities | Trivia | Voicelines 

Hello: Hello there! I’m Aluxia, though if you’ve talked to people around, you might’ve heard of me. I’m a magic performer and singer. If you’d like, I can show you around town if you’d like.

Chat- Occupation: Being a celebrity is much harder than one would think. It’s not talent that got me here, it’s hard work. (soft giggle)  

Chat- Fontaine: Fontaine’s a beautiful place; I wouldn’t live anywhere else.

Chat- Magic Trick:  Take a card, and don’t show me. I’ll show you the other half of the pair. 

When it rains: Oh gosh, it’s raining. Let’s get inside.

After the rain: It finally stopped raining… (relieved sigh)

When it snows: It’s so cold; gosh I should’ve brought a jacket. I’m so glad I convinced Mama not to go outside.

When it’s windy: Gosh, at this rate, my hair’s going to be carried off into the distance.

Good morning: Morning, I’m going to prepare breakfast shortly. 

Good afternoon: If there’s anything you need me to do, just let me know.  

Good evening: Hmm… I wonder what Mama’s going to make for dinner. 

Good night: (yawns) Night, see you in the morning. 

About Aluxia Fanris- trust: W-well, I don’t just trust anyone you know. They’ve gotta earn it; good job on doing that well. 

About Aluxia Fanris- singing: I’ve always liked to sing, ever since I was little. (sigh) I still do now, on the stage. It’s different, when there are many people watching. It’s easy to worry if they’ll hate you afterwards, but when you hear their cheers and see their smiles, it’s something to never forget. 

About Aluxia Fanris I: My mother’s family used to be well-known. Now, our family name has no longer been continued. It’s still in the history books, so that’s all that matters. After all, it’s my ancestors that are to be celebrated, not our family name. They’re the ones who worked hard, so they should get all the credit and perks. 

About Aluxia Fanris II: My father’s side? Well, (nervous laugh) they’re not the best of people. A lot has happened; I’d do anything to be less affiliated with them. I’d change my surname too, but Mama would be sad that I wouldn’t identify as my father’s daughter anymore. 

About Aluxia Fanris III: I spend most of my time in the library. Everything’s accessible there. After all, what is time for if it isn’t used to better oneself or to spend time with those close to you? Otherwise, it’d just be a waste. We had a lifespan given to us, so it is our duty to spend it to our fullest. 

About Aluxia Fanris IV: Mama’s always so gullible. (sigh) I wish she’d learn how to be wary of people. I know she just wants to be nice, but not everyone is nice back. Just look at all the times she’s been wronged because she’s easy to trick. 

About Aluxia Fanris V: Do I look tired? I probably am. Last night I had a hard time sleeping; I’m impatient when it comes to falling asleep. (sigh) If only I could sleep as soon as I wished to...

About us- the market: Oh, oh! I have to take you out to the market soon. They have all the best stuff, from fresh vegetables to even kameras! I know everyone there and the ins and outs of their products, hehe. 

Something to share- fans: I love my fans- for the most part. They give me so much support, and they’re the entire reason for my success. Though, I do wish they could just calm down a little sometimes. I’ve gotten confessions over mail, during meets, and even from stalkers I’ve had to fish out near my home. (sigh) Can people just have some common sense and respect? 

Something to share- scent: I like it when I smell good. Not that I just smell clean, but I also smell sweet. People like sweet things; why not smell sweet too? Of course, it should be taken into moderation as well, but just a little can boost sales up. 

Interesting things: I always said that the things I did were all for the family. After all, my work gave them food on the table and a roof over their heads, but perhaps, did they want something else? Something more? Perhaps spending all my time working is more selfish than anything...

[ about {character} lines will be added in the future]

Aluxia’s hobbies: My hobbies, huh… would my work be considered a hobby? I enjoy singing and dancing and doing magic tricks quite a lot...

Aluxia’s troubles: Oh, gosh, Elma and Ainos are fighting and Mama’s not hearing them. (sigh) These two never stop. 

Favorite food: Mama’s chicken fricassee is the absolute best. I can make it, but it’s just not the same. It’s perhaps the only food I’d miss if I were to go far from here...

Least favorite food: Peppers… if possible, I’d rather not eat those. (nervous laughter)

Birthday: Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday to you~ Happy birthday happy birthday~ Happy birthday to you~ Yay!! You’re now one year wiser, I suppose. I wish you a year of prosperity and mora, hehe. 

Feelings about ascension Intro: It’s only the beginning. Let’s keep going. 

Feelings about ascension Building up: Ouah, it seems the hard work is finally starting to pay off, huh? 

Feelings about ascension Climax: There’s nothing practice can’t do. Practice makes perfect, they say. True, in a general statement, though there isn’t a perfect; there is only better. 

Feelings about ascension Conclusion: Perhaps it’s time for me to move onto something else, something new to improve on. But thank you, I will never forget the time we spent training together. 

Added to party:

Already need my help?

Ready to go.

Let’s go, time’s passing already. 

Elemental Skill:

Feel the wind!

Tread carefully now.

Elemental burst:

There are no exceptions.

You cannot hide from the sound which travels in the wind.

0 HP:

I- I wasn’t done… yet…

Perhaps… it’s time for me… to rest...

Gliding:

Whoo!

Heavy hit:

Augh, stay back!

Sprint:

No time to waste here. We’re moving quickly.

[orangerosebush]

On minds and matters

It was a bit disheartening to spend years working towards an MA in psychology, only to then use it on hour-long glorified eye-staring contests with the moody adolescents of the UK’s Vieux riches. His job paid well, though, and as such Dr. Po was willing to grit his teeth and soldier on through each meeting on his list.

He’d had plenty of patients who came to him determined not to progress. These were the boys who had a few too many write-ups on their files; the ones whose families were tired of their son being too 'emotionally high-maintenance'; the students who had consigned themselves to being one of the ‘troubled’ boys. The problem with elite boarding schools was that they sometimes served as the dumping grounds for wealthy families who would prefer to not be reminded of their screw-up children — as such, Dr. Po’s target demographic was made up of boys determined to ‘win’ therapy by going home just as bitter and in pain as they were when they started sessions with him.

He didn’t always make a breakthrough. Sometimes, he had patients who showed up to a session with a note from Dean Guiney excusing them from further meetings, and that was that. Dr. Po firmly believed that every single student he’d met with was capable of finding some coping mechanism or outlet that would help them — and he hoped that the students whose sessions stopped before any progress had been made found happiness in the future. Or, at the very least, that they found something that would bring them peace.

There were certain patients he’d had that stood out from the others, both for good reasons and bad. Artemis Fowl II was one of those patients — and standing out for reasons ‘both good and bad’ described Artemis perfectly. 

Following a series of disastrous sessions when the boy was thirteen, Dr. Po had simply stopped seeing Artemis. The boy hadn’t even shown up with a note terminating their sessions. One day, a new boy had shown up in the time slot usually reserved for Artemis, and that had been that. Dr. Po hadn’t seen Artemis since. He vaguely remembered hearing the news that the Fowl patriarch had been found — alive — and not been sure whether to expect Artemis to get better or worse. 

Would the return of his father foster the growth of the nascent emotional maturity that Artemis had exhibited in their final sessions? Or would Artemis’ worst traits — his tendency towards arrogance, his dismissal of others, his budding narcissism — firmly take root, defining Artemis’ personality for good? These questions nagged at Dr. Po, and truthfully, he was too cowardly to ask around the staff to confirm just what sort of person Artemis had become.

Thus, Artemis remained an enigma.

An enigma that just so happened to be sitting in the armchair across from Dr. Po, boring a hole through the doctor with his unflinching gaze.

In true Artemis Fowl fashion, the boy had shown up for a session that had been reserved without a name. Dr. Po had nearly dropped his clipboard when he’d opened the door to usher in his new patient and been greeted with a now fifteen years of age Artemis Fowl standing before him, looking simultaneously defiant and sheepish.

They’d both walked into the room wordlessly, waiting in silence as Dr. Po awkwardly rummaged around in his desk for his old notes on Artemis while the young teen sat gingerly in the patient seat in the middle of the room.

“You’ve not switched to a digital filing system?”

Dr. Po started, looking up at Artemis.

“No psychiatrist or counselor uses iPads or digital notetakers,” Dr. Po explained hesitantly, brow furrowing.

Artemis wasn’t one for small talk, usually.

Shaking his head slightly as if to right himself, Dr. Po continued. “It’d be convenient, but there are concerns about the patient being recorded."

Artemis seemed satisfied with that answer.

Flipping his notes closed, Dr. Po studied Artemis, who raised a single brow.

“I’ve never forgotten our session that you left in the middle of,” Dr. Po remarked, and the frown lines on Artemis’ face deepened. “You were such a smarmy child. But you… made this joke.”

Artemis leaned back in his chair, tapping a foot in annoyance. “What a wonderful memory you have.”

“Not really. But it’s hard to forget a patient like you, Artemis,” Dr. Po sighed. “I tried to ask you about your feelings — you responded by telling me a family heirloom was a blatant forgery.”

The memory caused Artemis to smile genuinely for the first time since he’d stepped into the office. “The fake Victorian?”

The doctor grimaced. “Yes.”

“Despite its lack of authenticity, it was a perfectly nice armchair,” Artemis assured, a gently teasing note worming its way into his voice.

Edged on by Artemis' demeanor softening, Dr. Po pushed on. “But back to the joke. I remarked on the loss of your father — insensitively, I now realize — and you shut down. You started jerking me in this way and that in order to prevent me from getting a real reading on you. You said something along the lines of, ‘I’m depressed that I’m going to therapy,’ I believe. Quite a bon mot.”

“I was impudent as a young boy, I’m afraid,” Artemis said breezily, sounding more amused by the tale than remorseful. “I hope you’ll forgive me for a poor first impression.”

“Artemis, why are you back in my office?”

Artemis didn’t even blink, taking the challenge in stride. “My mother believes it will be beneficial.”

“Your mother? Not you?”

“Correct.”

“And… beneficial? To what end? Elaborate on her reasoning, perhaps,” Dr. Po asked, trying to keep his tone light.

“She believes I am emotionally maladjusted,” Artemis said, giving a small shrug.

“Are you?”

Artemis blinked owlishly, the question not quite computing. “Am I what, doctor?”

Dr. Po clicked his pen idly. “Unhappy.”

“Well, of course.”

Dr. Po was unable to keep his face neutral, and Artemis chuckled slightly at the doctor’s wide-eyed gaping.

“Dr. Po,” Artemis sighed, sobering as if he were explaining something evident to a child. “Of course I am unhappy occasionally. I’m a very busy man. My intellect has made it so I’ve moved beyond the carefree days of adolescence — I’ve matured past an age where my mother could treat me as a child, and although I don’t mourn the loss of simpler times, I suppose she does.”

Dr. Po forced himself not to ask if Artemis had ever truly been treated as a child, deciding to steer clear of the topic of family based on how unproductively the discussion had gone years ago. Instead, he elected to place his clipboard on the floor, looking at Artemis bluntly.

“Artemis, I’m not diagnosing you with anything,” he began, holding up a hand when Artemis opened his mouth to say something. “What I want to discuss today, however, is that right now I see the same pain in you today as I did when you were thirteen — and since I’m no longer getting complaints from department heads, that means you’ve taken that frustration and turned it somewhere else.”

Artemis’ lips quirked upwards, but his eyes were mirthless. “You share my mother's theory that I am some variation of the tortured genius stereotype.”

“How about this — I think that you believe that there isn’t a person alive smart enough to help you. Because to 'fix' you, someone would have to look inside you, and you think you’re the only person that’s able to understand how you work.”

“How narcissistic of me.”

“I’ve met with a lot of people since our last session when you were thirteen,” Dr. Po stressed. “I’ve not met anyone quite as clever as you, but I’ve met people who fit the same profile. You’re well versed in my profession, so you’re able to view your pain as both a participant and as an outsider — and that strangely voyeuristic relationship to your mind makes it so you and all these other folks think that you’re objective. Logical, even, in your analysis of your mind. You understand every tick, every tiny mechanism, every structure of your psyche. And if you understand it all and you still can’t will yourself to be happy, then why the hell should I be able to do anything for you? After all, I’m just some idiot who decorates his office with forged antique furniture his grandfather was gullible enough to purchase. Why should I know better than you do?”

Artemis was silent at that.

“If someone can, say, convince themselves that all their peers are 2D caricatures of people, they’ll never have to think about why they struggle to feel any pleasure from social interaction. If they can look around and see how far their family has come, then they can force themselves to box up and discard the baggage of the past. If they can convince themselves that pain and genius are twins, that the torment is part of the gift by which they define themselves, then the fear they have that maybe they’re destined for a life marked by paranoia and apathy no longer has to be confronted,” Dr. Po tried, searching for some way to express his thoughts before Artemis decided to snap at him. “Maybe you’re the only one who sees the world as it really is. But maybe your mother is right to be concerned. I get why… that’s an unattractive possibility to you. It would mean your analysis of yourself was incorrect. And if you were wrong, if your mind has tricked you into running away from the change that you need to feel happier, then you’re just as human as the rest of us. Pain tricked you into believing its integral to your ‘youness’. You’re... just human. And let me tell you, Artemis, that feeling ineffectual, and frustrated, and sad is... so very painfully human.”

By the time he’d finished his spiel, Dr. Po’s voice was soft. Pursing his lips, he tried to see if he’d garnered any sort of reaction from Artemis. The teen remained stony-faced.

“I can recommend a therapist from outside Saint Bartleby’s,” Dr. Po finally said. “If you don’t want to work with me, then I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

Artemis seemed to be broiling with unreadable intensity, and for a moment Dr. Po worried that he’d start going on a diatribe.

His fears soon were proven unfounded when all of the sudden, Artemis seemed to deflate.

“I do not choose sadness for myself, Dr. Po. I can assure you that,” Artemis remarked, sounding weary in the way men twice his age did when confronted by the prospect of the world having moved on past their prime.

“I would never imply something so insensitive,” Dr. Po insisted. “But there is a difference between me saying something of that sort and me asking you to believe that I could help you. Or if not me, then someone better suited to working with you.”

Artemis ruminated on the statement, his tapered fingers tapping out an unfamiliar rhythm on the arms of the ornate chair he was sitting in.

“I will come to my session next week,” he finally decided, and Dr. Po almost sagged with relief.

Carefully, the two of them continued on with the session. Although it felt as though they were both walking on eggshells around one another, the hour-long session ultimately ended in a place where Dr. Po felt like they could work with. He walked Artemis to the door, and after awkwardly bidding him goodbye, Dr. Po retreated back into his office.

For a while, he simply sat at his desk, thinking.

It wasn’t as though he’d made groundbreaking headway with Artemis today. Frankly, they’d been only nominally productive following Artemis’ promise to give therapy a genuine attempt.

The day stretched on, and Dr. Po was no closer to making sense of the ever-present Artemis conundrum.

After all, how does one describe Artemis Fowl?

Various psychiatrists have tried and failed. The problem is Artemis’ own intelligence. He bamboozles every test thrown at him. He has puzzled the greatest medical minds, and sent many of them gibbering back to their own hospitals.

Dr. Po paused, reaching back for the clipboard he’d discarded at the beginning of the session.

Artemis Fowl II was fifteen. He had various, tremendously important responsibilities, the details of which he refused to elaborate on. His best friend, to Dr. Po’s knowledge, was his paid bodyguard. Frankly, Dr. Po didn’t think they’d talk about Artemis’ family for a long, long time.

Dr. Po couldn’t really describe Artemis Fowl, because he didn’t know him. He didn’t think many people knew the boy, not really.

All the same, Dr. Po wanted to try. He wanted to try to understand Artemis Fowl a bit better. Not because Dr. Po wanted to a hero, but because he wanted Artemis Fowl to just get to be a boy instead of whatever impossible, confusing role Artemis seemed to be trying to fill.

Artemis Fowl was fifteen. Dr. Po hoped that he’d hold onto boyhood a little while longer.

[kotalefanzu]

Pitch Pearl  ATUS AU- Part 2

so where we last left off, danny has been experiencing some weird stuff. it all comes to a point when he finds a DP symbol drawn onto his fogged-up mirror.

at this point, danny has to come to terms with what this all means. he has told nobody about his experiences in the ghost zone, let alone explain the significance of the cursed symbol, made by phantom as a way to ‘tease’ him about their unity and relationship. the royal insignia is a crown lit aflame with green fire. nobody in the human realm should know about DP. the only logical and possible answer is phantom is back.

he starts panicking

but days go by, then a few weeks and no ghosts have shown up. none at all.

sometimes he finds little trinkets on his desk or under his pillow or other little places where he would notice them. he’d get a few nightmares here and there as well. nothing big though. he can almost pretend like it isn’t happening, like phantom isn’t here at all.

but then at lunch, the lights flicker off and a glowing green fog slowly rolls in from the walls. the students watch in quiet horror as is solidifies into a misty DP symbol. danny throat closes up and he is paralyzed. a haunting whisper carried into everyone’s ears.

“The Tale of the Ghost King”

they sit blankly as the voice tells a story, the fog twisting and condensing into vague shapes like a storybook. 

the king used to be a small ghost, it says, a small ghost that just wanted the best for his people. he freed them from the tyranny of the old king and promised them that no longer would they ever have to be treated like the lowest class. he uplifted them higher than they could imagine. it tells about the king finding a new realm, a new place to explore, and how cruel the people who lived there were, treating them like monsters and beasts. the king decided to find an ambassador to show the humans the ghosts’ true kindness. to show the humans just how stupid and foolish they are. the king slowly realized that as long as the desire to return home persisted, the human would never see the truth, and with a heavy heart concluded for the sake of education, people needed to die. the human was too blind and naive to appreciate his people’s sacrifice and tossed the poor king’s hospitality and love in his face, sealing the gateway so that they could never meet again. it was so silly to think the king would never find another way. they have a new entrance now. this time, the king’s dear gullible human would never escape.

as the mist fades and whispers and gasps break out around the cafeteria, people slowly putting together the story that danny never told, danny shakes with fear and anger at the patronizing and misleading way his fears were brought to light. he wants to scream and cry and hide away and as people begin asking for answers from him, he taps into a power he never wanted to feel again and vanishes.

he isn’t seen for weeks on end, held up in his room and only leaving when the coast is clear. the other fentons stop trying to catch him out of his room because he knows when they are there and they rather make sure he stays alive and doesn’t starve himself. sam and tucker make sure to keep him informed about the school by leaving his homework and copied notes at the door and setting down by it, just gossiping. they don’t know if he is listening or not but the homework and notes are always gone when they come back the next day so they have hope.

danny focuses on trying to locate the portal by meditating and practicing his magic again. his back up plan to escape amity and leave town if he gets short on time. the ghosts can’t drift too far from the portal. he will be safe if he leaves, but it would be better if he doesn’t have to. 

the trinkets and gifts continue showing up and danny stores them out of sight so he doesn’t have to look at him. each one gets progressively more and more sentimental and personal until one day as he is making his bed, he catches sight of a glinting object he never wanted to see again.

the circlet.

bile rises to his throat and he rushes out to the bathroom, emptying his guts into the toilet. the sound alerts jazz, who peeks in and finds him sobbing over the toilet seat. she kneels downn by him, gently rubbbing his back. glancing over she spies their parent watching in concern from the doorway. their mom gets him water and their dad gets him some fudge to help clean the taste out. when danny comes back to reality he looks at them and starts crying all over again, basking in the comfort of his family. they expect him to lock himself away again when he has calmed down, but instead he site there for a second before telling them they need to talk.

in the living room, danny explains in with as much detail he can handle about what happened when he was taken away into the ghost zone. he tries to communicate how he didn’t like it and he really didn’t want to do any of it, like they would shun him if he didn’t. he confesses to the powers and promsises that he is still human and he isn’t a ghost. finally he opens up about what’s happening now and what he needs to do if they want to avoid the apocalypse. he tells them that if he cant find the portal, he will need to flee and hope that phantom doesn’t change targets.

they listen quietly and reassuringly up until that moment before completely vetoing that idea. danny is not leaving. this is his home and nobody is going to take that away from him. they tell him that its best if he starts opening up more about what he knows so they can actually help him. danny is hesistant, but agrees. 

the day he returns to school, an assembly is held for him to explain the events of the infamous lunch period and what it all meant. students listen in fear and rage as he talks. by the end some are terrified that they will die, some are yelling to sacrifice danny for the protectionn of the town, and some are standing their ground and demanding war. danny barely manages to calm them down again, promising that everything can ba avoided as long as they just find out where the new portal is and close it down.

going back to vladdy bo baddy, he finally comes back to town and has  managed to power himself up. he is ready to go flirt with maddie and kill jack, however, when he goes to visit them, he senses a lot of ectoenergy radaiting from the house, more than he would expect without the presence of the portal. vlad is very clueless about the current events and doesn’t really even know much about what went down freshman year. he uses this visit as a way to learn a bit more about the current affairs and greets the family, complimenting maddie, giving a backhanded compliment to jack, kissing up to jazz, and-

he freezes when he looks at danny because there is a lot of ecto energy raidaiting off of him and it but scares him a small bit and excites him. potentially another half, he thinks. after a few hours of small talk, he excuses himself as its getting late and invites them over 

maddie is hesistant and tries to find an excuse not to go when danny happily accepts vlads proposal. she reads in between the lines and takes danny’s lead on this. if he thinks going to vlad’s mansion will be beneficial, then its best to trust him.

a few days later, they welcome themselves at vlad’s house and danny tries sensing for the portal. after locating the rift he excuses himself to go use the bathroom and starts trying to track it down. his senses say its behind a wall, but he can’t find the door. he starts messing around with some of the books of bookself that seemed peculiar before quiet footsteps catch his attention. turns out its just a cat.

the cat meows at him and guides him over a bit before pawing at him to pick it up. once lifted, it swipes ato some of the books causing some to fall but one stops mid tilt and a door opens to a hidden lab.

in it, is the portal. danny immediately starts preparing the concentration needed to seal it up. the last time he did it, it was instinctual and he didn’t have a clear grasp on what exactly he did. he needs to fiddle around a bit before he can do it. unfortunately, hologram maddie senses someone in the lab and scans them, sending an alert to vlad about an intruder. vlad rushes off to fight them off half expecting it to be another weak ghost crawling through, but instead sees danny concentrating on destroying the portal. he yells at him, causing danny to fire prematurely and only somewhat seal the portal, but vlad launches into combat before he can continue building up strenght.

vlad goes on a tirade about how clueless he mist be about himself and how halfas work if he thought that was a good idea and explains the importance of having a portal fueling you as a halfa while attacking and shooing away danny who is hellbent on destroying the portal. midway through he transforms when he notices danny isn’t catching onto what he is talking about and when danny still shows confusion, balks. the misunderstanding allows danny a slight moment to build up more energy while engaging vlad in a standstill about what he is and how danny is different. he doesn’t expand to much on it, just clarifying that he indeed is a live and not a halfa or whatever it is. vlad notices danny is about to fire again at the portal and redirect at the last second, restarting the fighting again. thoughout the fight he continues trying to convince danny that he is mostly likely dead and he should be able to transform but none of what he is saying is getting through to danny and its getting frustrating at this point. 

the turning point hits when the fenton’s stumble into the lab after hunting down the two missing people across the entire mansion. their arrival, mainly maddie’s, throws off vlad long enough for danny to finally seal up the portal and for the fentons to rip vlad a new for the complete indangerment he brought upon them. luckily the portal is sealed and they are safe now.

everything is quiet for about a month.

one peaceful month of no paranoia, no nightmares, not trinkets.

then danny has a dream, more like a nightmare, about waking up in a too large bed, cold and the sickeningly familiar weight of the circlet on his head. the room is the one that haunted his nightmares for the rest of freshman year and the first few weeks of sophmore. he slowly pulls off the covers, he is dressed in too fancy night garb that he never wanted to wear, and tip toes over to the mirror hanging over the dresser. 

his skin is sickly pale and his eyes are glowing a bright icy blue. the circlet is there, heavy and silver with sparkling emerald gems and its so cold andhe jsut stares at himself in the mirror, unfamiliar yet familiar and so very afraid.

he is so out off it he doesn’t notice another figure creeping up behind him until cold, tight arms lock him into place. there is a low amused chuckle and the figure leans up to his ear and whispers the name he tried so hard to forget.

“Starlight~”

“Did you really think that was the end? That I wouldn’t have anticipated you were going to seal up the new portal? You are still so silly.”

danny freezes and tries to question him btu no sound will come out. he can’t talk.

“You know, at first there weren’t any more portals. I was determined after the new rift formed to rush through and drag you back before finishing where I left off. However, unlike you, I think ahead. I decided to take my time with it. To guarantee no repeats. You were planning to run away to where I couldn’t reach you if I dared take a step too far and that was out of the question. What would I have done without you, Starlight? DId you ever take a moment to think about me.”

nails dug into his skin and his voice hitched.

“Luckily I thought about you. One of us has to put in effort into this relationship. I came up with something genius. I asked myself, why not tear more rifts? Once a cut was made, it was easy to make more from it. Why not fill you entire realm up with them, so that any place could be accessed with just a hint of energy? It took me so long, I was almost ready to stop halfway, but I have so much patience when it comes to you. Now I’m finished and there is not place on your stupid little earth that I can’t find you.”

danny’s blood froze from the cold and the fear. phantom only laughed and tightened his grip before pushing away. as consciousness slowly faded in, he heard slight whispers of phantoms last words.

“I’ll see you soon Starlight. You’ll come running back into my arms soon enough.”

he woke up in a cold sweat, jazz standing above him with a grim look.

“Sam and Tucker have gone missing.

[xiubaek-13]

Let Me In - Part 2

Prompt: “If I knock politely will you let me in? I’ll make it worth your while”

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Word Count: 4,950

Warnings: Vampire AU, smut, blood, mentions of death, murder & torture.

A/N: Part 1 was in my Halloween drabbles from a long ass time ago. I continuously got requests for a second part so it finally came into being today. Let me know what you think, comments help me greatly given the large breaks between posting for me, they help me work out if I’m still any good at this writing business.

“S-so, a-are you g-gonna k-kill me?” You stutter out, your fear making it hard for you to get the words out.

He smirks and steps back, freeing you from the wall. Before you can even think about regaining some semblance of composure he kneels on the floor and sinks his fangs into the dead man’s neck. Your eyes widen as you stand frozen to the spot, unable to blink, run, anything. It takes all you have just to remember to breathe.

He drops the corpse back to the floor when he’s finished feeding, licking his blood-stained lips as he sets his eyes on you again. “I think you’ve bought yourself some time.” He steps closer to you, caging your body between his arms, your back pressed back against the wall. “Convince me to let you live, but your case had better be compelling since you wasted my time earlier.” His dark gaze feels like its searing lines into your flesh as you feel it travel from your eyes to your lips, throat, & chest before raking back up to your eyes. “You still haven’t let me in.” He smirks.

What was that stupid saying that you used to say to your friends? Mark me down as scared and horny. That’s pretty much where you were right now. Terrified for multiple reasons (vampires were real, one sent a madman to kill you then killed said madman in front of you and was maybe, probably, most definitely doing to kill you) but also horny. It was impossible to deny how attractive Baekhyun was, both before when you thought he was human and now as he pinned you to the wall. Your mind is racing, jumping between freaking out about your impending death and lewd comments about his lips, hands, hips. If it had the capacity to take on anything else it might also be disgusted with itself for allowing lust to creep in at a time like this. 

Somewhere deep down in your psyche a thought sparks. Draw this out, stay alive as long as you possibly can. The longer you are alive, the closer you are to sunrise. Make it to sunrise and escape. It wasn’t much to go on but it was the best you could think of. There was no way that you would overpower him with strength. If you wanted to win here then you were going to need to be smart and bide your time. Use every advantage that you could and the sun was a powerful one. His ego might just be another.

“I want to know more about you.” He raises one brow in response.

“Why?” 

You inhale, steeling your nerves as you say the words that will change your life forever. “In the bar before, we talked. I liked that, liked getting to know you -” the words were not untrue. The bar had been nice. You’d captured the attention of the man every person, men and women alike, desired but he had only had eyes for you. You had been sitting at the bar enjoying your Old Fashioned when Baekhyun had first approached you. At the time it was immensely flattering but in hindsight you were probably just easy prey. You were alone and no one else had been paying much attention to you. “- but now that I know that you’re well, not human, I feel like that was all lies. Tell me about you first. Then I’ll let you in.” 

He shifts back and considers your words. “Why should I tell you anything at all? I could just compel you to let me in and use you until I’m bored of your body.” His tone betrays him. He might be impatient and used to getting what he wants but from the way his tone shifted when he said he could compel you, you could tell that doing so would ruin the fun for him. 

So you played with fire, figuratively speaking of course. Standard negotiating probably wouldn’t work here because a) you were terrified and b) impatient vampire. You weren’t trying to get out of sleeping with him either. You were attracted to him even through your fear and there was no denying that you wanted him. All you were trying to gain was time. The closer it got to sunrise, the higher your chances of survival were. 

So you tried to match his ego to unnerve him.“Where is the fun in that?” You shrug. “If all you want is a body to fuck, then why ask me to convince you to let me live? Surely it’s better for you with a willing participant.” You take a step forward, avoiding the dead body on the floor, and advance on Baekhyun as you continue to speak. “One that wants you, that begs for you, that needs you.” You lick your lips as you finish, your words affecting you more than you thought they would. “Why put it all of the effort at the bar when you could have simply locked eyes and told me what you wanted me to do? I think you enjoy the hunt so why spoil it now? What harm is there in telling me about yourself when I’m just going to die anyway?” You shrug. 

Baekhyun takes a few steps back and looks at you, really looks at you. His eyes narrow as he takes you in and tries to work out your ploy. “Interesting tactic little one. Futile though.” He smirks and turns away from you, heading off towards your kitchen. 

Left with the corpse just behind you, you decide to follow him rather than rush out the front door. Baekhyun has already proved that he is faster than you so you probably wouldn’t get very far and even if you got to a neighbour in time there is the very real possibility that they’d die and it would be your fault. 

As you enter the kitchen you spot Baekhyun mixing drinks. He points at the two armchairs you have in your makeshift reading nook, a place that has brought you comfort over the years. If there was ever a place for you to fight for your life then this would be the one place that would bring you strength. You make your way over to one of the armchairs and sink into its comforting embrace while you wait for Baekhyun to finish making drinks.

“I’ll play your game for now little one but don’t push your luck.” He says as he carries two drinks over, handing you one once he is close enough. You notice that he’s made the same drink that you were having at the bar. “You’re not wrong, compelling a mark kind of ruins the vibe but if I have to do it, I will.”

“Noted.”

“Asking me to tell you about myself is a bit vague given my lengthy existence so why don’t you try something more specific? I’ll let you ask as many questions as you want but there is a price for my answers.” He smirks.

“Name it.”

“Each time I answer you, you must remove an article of clothing. Once removed I’m free to touch the unclothed area. When you run out of clothing, your question time ceases and you submit yourself to me to have you as I please.”

You gulp as you try not to let on how appealing his price sounds. The logical part of your brain tries to yell over the burning lust that is taking over your senses about the dangers involved here but as far as you see it your options are die in pain or die in pleasure. Given the choice, you will avoid pain at almost any cost. He thinks he has you trapped, like a cat cornering a mouse but you aren’t so sure that you’ve been beaten yet. Not that he needs to know that.

“I accept your terms.” You say before taking a sip of your drink. The whiskey soothing any errant nerves. 

You see Baekhyun’s eyes darken with desire as he sits opposite you, a smug look on his face now that he thinks he’s won. “I’ll give you a point for not forcing an unnecessary negotiation or rebuttal upon hearing my price.”

“You said not to waste your time. Your terms are not unsurprising and it did not seem like it was up for negotiation when you delivered it.”

“Smart woman.” He relaxed into the armchair, swirling his drink in one hand as the other beckoned for you to begin your questioning.

“How much of what you told me about yourself at the bar was true?”

“All of it.” He states bluntly, chuckling at the surprised look on your face. “I do work at a law firm in town with 8 others, it’s how we exist in human society. I don’t have traditional family as such anymore as I’ve long outlived them. I do prefer to go out at night for obvious reasons beyond my control and I find great beauty in the night.” 

Baekhyun was right, he had told you the truth, just a very short version of it. Should that make you trust him any more? Probably not, but it did instil a small amount of something in you about him. He could have just lied about everything in order to lure you away but he chose the truth. In some weird way that counted for something. 

“No lies, you just never bothered to dig deeper at the time.” He purred, eyes roaming your body as he waited to see what you would remove.

You slipped out of your leather jacket and draped it over the back of your seat. Baekhyun groaned impatiently when he saw the long sleeves that remained covering your arms. Victory, it would seem, was not yet within his grasp. Begrudgingly he took another sip of his drink as you laughed internally at his reaction.

“Is your normal pattern to trick someone into letting you into their home then you kill them?”

“No. My clan and I have tried many things over the years. Let’s see. There was compelling which was just too easy and made our existence dull, posing as missionaries which weirdly enough worked better than it should have… not that I’ll ever let Suho know that. Next was outright frenzy where we razed a town, feasted and moved on - that was one of the early ones.” He grins as he reminisces. “Where was I, oh yes. We told people we were vampires - that one was particularly popular in the 2000’s, we’ve pretended to be injured or dead then attacked the person who was kind enough to try and help us, also too easy in my opinion but effective. You humans are gullible.” He chuckles. “We also tried to use blood banks but supplies could not sustain our hunger without detection, so then we tried setting up our own donor systems but that was a logistical nightmare and more red tape than you should ever have to deal with as an immortal. Roleplay was a fun one, biting is a real kink for so many people - who knew? - and now the current approach which is an amalgamation of past methods - seduction and pleasure followed by feeding.” He finishes his account of vampiric blood sourcing by licking his lips, his fangs hidden from your view. 

If you hadn’t seen them plunged into the neck of the now deceased man in your entryway you could be fooled into thinking that the man sitting across from you was just that, a man. But you had seen them and you knew they were real. You also knew the telltale signs of an impatient man and Baekhyun was most definitely impatient. 

For an immortal being who could remain as still at the night he was fidgeting and tapping his glass more than any vampire should. Whether it was hunger or something else causing it you didn’t know. The erratic movements were unsettling and causing your nerves to return. His gaze pierces yours as he waits.

You set your drink on the floor and stand, moving your arms behind you as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor, revealing a small amount of flesh at the top of your thighs, your garter belt and stockings covering most of the unveiled skin.

You hear him inhale, something he does not need to do. “You’re just going to leave it on the floor like that? Little one, it will crumple.” His voice is rough as he chides you.

You smirk and turn away from him before giving him what he wants. You step out of the skirt, bend at the hips and collect the discarded piece from the floor. You can feel his eyes on your ass as you bend forward, leaving little to the imagination. Only a small strip of fabric prevents him from your sex.

After you place your skirt on the back of the chair, on top of the jacket, you sit. Your brain doesn’t register the movement but before you can cross one leg over the other Baekhyun is there, kneeling between them, his hands on the uppermost part of your thighs where the skin is exposed. 

“You,” He growls. “do not know the fire with which you are playing with.” You can see the tips of his fangs now. Your body betrays you as you feel heat and want rushing to your core and your eyes close. His fingers trace patterns into your thighs, ghosting near the edge of your panties and down your inner thighs which only builds your arousal. 

“You’ll beg for me to fuck you before you’re fully undressed little one. Why deny yourself what we both know you desire?” He grazes his fangs along the column of your neck as your core clenches around nothing. 

When you open your eyes he is back in his seat swirling his drink like he had never moved. The absence of his touch left you wanting. Your stubbornness is the only thing keeping you from rushing through your questions because Baekhyun is not wrong, you want him - badly. “Are you going to kill me?”

He cocks his head as he ponders your question. “Honestly haven’t made my mind up yet. Before this current bargain I was just going to fuck you and drain you, the only variable there being if I let you enjoy it or if I let you feel pain. Now… I’m not sure. You might be interesting enough to keep alive for now. It all depends really.”

Your fingers expertly undo the buttons of your blouse and you shrug out of its sleeves, leaving you clad only in your underwear and heels. “On what?” You ask. The lines of this little ruse are starting to blur for you. The original plan to keep Baekhyun talking in order to reach sunrise is fading, leaving only images on the vampire taking you every which way, giving you pleasure you could only dream of. 

“On you little one.” Baekhyun’s voice comes from directly behind you. You feel his hands moving down your sides, one snaking between your legs and gripping your inner thigh and the other splayed over your stomach. You feel his fangs drag over your throat and you shudder. “You might just convince me.” You feel his presence disappear and know without turning around that he is no longer standing behind you. You can feel where his hands were on your body, the ghost of his touch remaining. 

As you look around you can’t spot him anywhere. You know he’s still in the house because why would he leave now? You make your way to the various rooms in your home as you search for the vampire but he is nowhere. You start to feel frustration overtaking your lust as you call out. “Baekhyun! Where are you?” 

His voice sounds from a room that you had already checked, your bedroom. “This game needs to continue in another room little one.” You make your way back upstairs to your room as he speaks again, his voice closer this time. “You are far too indecently clothed to be in a sitting room.” 

As you enter the room you see him leaning against your bedpost, his eyes roaming your body. Your ears register the sound of him moving past you but your eyes do not. The door closes behind you and he appears to have not moved. The fear inside you spikes back up as you witness a modicum of his power. You’ve been toying with him when all along he could just snap you like a twig.the thought terrifies you but you try to push your fear down. It will not help you now.

You saunter towards the bed only for him to hold up a hand and stop you. “I believe you asked a question little one. You know the rules.” Left with only a few options you step out of your heels and continue towards the bed.

By your count you have three questions left before this little game ends and you plan to use them to ensure that whatever happens after doesn’t hurt you and might just lead to you keeping your life. You aren’t going to bother with asking more about his past. You are pretty sure you know enough, he’s been undead for quite some time but from looking at him you would guess that he was in his 20’s when he was turned. He can be cruel - you have not forgotten the madman he compelled earlier - he is determined, overconfident, smug, impatient and alluring and he has made you crazed with lust. 

“How do you want me?” you ask sultrily as you reach the foot of your bed.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him remove his jacket and place it over the chair at your dresser. His shoes and socks are next, then he starts to unbutton his shirt as he moves behind you. You can feel him standing behind you but he does not touch you. He lets the anticipation build, he knows this game has almost reached its end, he is one step closer to getting what he wants from you.

“Naked and wanting.” He confesses. “Reveling in the pleasure I give you, begging for more.”

Your bra drops to the floor, making him groan. “And what will you do to me?” You ask, before he can say anything to alter your train of thought. Your mind is set on one path and one path only now. You want him. You want him to make you forget that you were ever afraid of him, that he ever posed a danger to you, that he is anything more than an incredibly attractive man with eyes only for you.

“Everything.” He whispers in your ear. His hands cup your breasts, fingers lightly pinching your nipples. “I’ll make you feel pleasure like you’ve never felt before. Make you beg for me to never stop fucking you, for me to bite you. And I will, once you beg for it.”

A moan escapes your throat, giving away just how aroused you are. Your hand brushes against his crotch as you move to undo your garter belt and you feel how hard he is for you. He stops your hand and completes the action for you, sliding the stockings down your legs and off your feet. He spins you and pushes you down onto the bed, removing the shirt from his shoulders and undoing his pants as he kneels at your feet. 

“Why me?” you manage to say as you watch him undress, your eyes taking in the lean planes of his body. He wasn’t wearing underwear you muse as your eyes are drawn to his cock, hard and waiting to enter you. His eyes follow yours and he grins when he realises where their gaze has not wavered. Shuffling back of the bed far gracefully than he has any right to, he moves back into a standing position so that he can remove his pants. 

Fully naked, he moves back to his position between your legs. “What’s the point of being immortal if you deny yourself the simple pleasures in life?” he responds as he kisses your ankle, before moving up your calf, to your thigh, hip, breast, neck before finally reaching your lips. “I find beauty in the night and I take what I want. Right now, that is you.”

His lips crash into yours in a kiss that is so desperate that you don’t register the ripping of your panties until you can feel him, all of him flush against your skin. His body doesn’t emit heat, rather it is cool to the touch but it isn’t a bad feeling. Rather it is refreshing in comparison to how hot you feel. His mouth works against yours, the lip ring providing a new sensation for the kiss.

When he breaks the kiss to allow you to breathe you see the dark fire in his eyes, his desire palpable. “You’re mine now little one. I told you your game was futile, that you would give in to me and here we are, your wet little cunt begging for my cock. Do you think you deserve pleasure after how long you made me wait?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

He looks amused. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I was scared of you. There was no desire to let you in before we talked more but now, now I want you even though I know part of the truth about you. You said it was better if the other person was willing, well, now I am.” You laid out the truth for him. You were no longer scared of him even though you knew he could still inflict the worst pain imaginable on you and kill you. What you felt now was desire so strong that nothing, not even fear of death, could break through.

He grinned, baring his fangs to you. “You, my dear, have proven to be far more interesting than I gave you credit for. There is one thing I didn’t tell you though, something that will make what is about to happen much more pleasurable for you. Vampires can direct the blood flow of any body that they are in contact with. You think you want me now? Wait until you feel as though you’re on fire, your skin burning with need as I taste you. You’ll beg me to drink your blood from wherever I please. And I will.” 

You shuddered at his words. Desire pouring through you, making you feel as though you were drugged. “Kiss me.” The words left your mouth without any thought. Baekhyun leaned down and his lips closed over yours gently, seeing if you were going to try and get away from him. When he realised that you weren’t going anywhere he intensified the kiss, increasing the pressure and igniting your senses. 

He ran his tongue along the seam of your lips until you opened your mouth, allowing your tongues to work against each other. You could feel his fangs grazing your lip but it did not scare you, rather it made you want more. His hands roamed your body as the two of you kissed, teasing your nipples and brushing near your core, never where you wanted the friction the most. 

“Please” you moan.

“What do you want little one?” he teases.

“Touch me.” His hands grip your thighs, spreading your legs wide for him. You try to roll your hips, desperate for any sort of friction but you don’t achieve the contact you’re after. You whimper as the frustration builds. You want him to touch you so badly, you need your release and soon.

“Patience little one.” He chuckles. “As flattering as it is to see just how badly you want me, I want to savour this. His eyes drift down. “You look delectable.” He shifts his body down the bed so that his face is level with your dripping centre. 

He slowly drags his fangs from your thigh, up your leg, and moves over your centre, to the other thigh. The sensation makes you whimper as you try to grind your hips, but he holds you down with his hands as you try to find some friction to help you along. “Please” You breathe.

Smirking he moves back to where you need him the most, flicking his tongue against your clit. Your mind goes blank at the sensation as he repeats the motion, deepening the pressure he’s applying until you moan loudly. If anything, it only serves to spur him on, attaching his lips to your clit as his tongue presses and swirls around it. Your hips would have been bucking into his face if he wasn’t holding you down.

He pauses for a moment to confess “You are fucking delectable, I could do this all night.” before resuming his feast. You bite your lip as he rolls his tongue against you, his fangs lightly grazing your clit and sending a whole new wave of pleasure flowing through you. You never expected his fangs to draw such a response from you but you felt yourself moan louder every time they grazed over your clit. You could feel his eyes watching you as he pleasured you, taking in every reaction and building his actions on that. Your arousal builds as he alternates the pace and pressure of his tongue, and increases the feel of his fangs against you. 

“Fuck” you whimper. The sensations are building too quickly and you can feel your release approaching with haste when he detaches his mouth from you. You look down at him and he smirks at you before you can utter a complaint, not breaking eye contact as he pushes one then two fingers into your wet heat. 

You can’t stop yourself from moaning his name as he starts to move his fingers back and forth in a steady rhythm. “You like that?” he growls as you clench around his fingers. “Little one, you are so wonderfully wet. Just for me. You love it don’t you? You love how my fingers feel, how my tongue feels and most of all you love how my fangs feel against your clit. Don’t you?” His pupils are so dark and blown out with lust as he lowers his skilled mouth back to your bundle of nerves.

The combined sensation of his long fingers, skilled tongue and sharp fangs become too much for you. He moans against you as he works, curling his fingers inside you and fluttering his tongue against your clit. You writhe on the bed as he increases his speed to a level that a mere human could never achieve and right before your orgasm hits, he sinks his fangs into you. The pleasure was so intense, so overwhelming that you sobbed his name as he helped you ride out your high. You were too far gone to realise that he was tasting you, really tasting you now that his fangs penetrated your flesh. You felt no pain, only white hot pleasure. 

When he released you he looked up at you, mouth and fangs dripping with a mixture of your juices and blood. Your body still tingles with aftershocks of your orgasm and you feel like you’re on fire. You should be spent but you only want him more. 

God you wanted to him to fuck you.

He flips you over, positioning you on your knees. He grunts as he enters you in one fluid motion. He meets no resistance given how ready you were for his cock. He grips your waist tightly as he sets a brutal pace, the only sounds in the room are of skin hitting skin and cries of pleasure. 

“You fit my cock perfectly. Look at how much you want this, at how badly you want a vamp to fuck the life out of you.” He grunts in between thrusts. 

“Baekhyun. Fuck” You moan when he hits your g spot. 

You had never felt pleasure like this before. You’d had great sex before but this was on a level of its own. Baekhyun had had an unknown amount of time to perfect this act and hone his skills and he was not disappointing. He moved between a pace that felt more like what you were used to and then a pace faster than you could have ever imagined. 

“This.” He growled, “Is how a vampire fucks you.” and lifted your body up so that it was flush with his, tilting your head so that your throat was exposed for him. He ran his tongue along your neck, making you moan deeply as you recalled the feeling of his fangs.

“You want it don’t you?” He asked as he pounded into you. “Want me to sink my fangs back into your flesh as I fuck you?” You couldn’t form words to respond to him, only moans of want and pleasure. He grazed his fangs along your neck and you writhed against the touch.

His fangs pierced the skin of your neck and the sensation barreled you over the edge. Everything was heightened and a feeling that you had never experienced before flooded your system. You felt full, alive, and like you were about to explode. You shuddered and cried out as your orgasm ripped through you harder than last time as Baekhyun chased his. 

The last thing you saw before you blacked out were his eyes, now a deep red as he stared down at your form and smiled. “I think I’ll keep you.”

[the-wintershade]

I don’t ever want to fall in love again

pairing: loki x reader summary: Loki sees through your falsities, but he won’t lie. Not to you. wc: 3.4k+ (they just keep getting longer, huh?) genre: smidge angsty, fluff, yearning, some light intensity

Mirage: mini series  —  01 | 02 | 03 | ...

There’s a very fine line between losing it all and losing yourself.

That’s what your father would have said to you. If he was still around.

Lying would only take you so far. Loki would eventually notice the false smiles, the candied words, the empty promises. But if you gave too much of yourself, you would become lost in his eyes, his words, him. And that was something you couldn’t risk.

You wouldn’t lose yourself in this game. You were stronger than this. You’ve lied to your father, to strangers, to people you work with. You’ve gotten good at lying, good at letting a half-truth slip off your tongue and into the air. 

The words didn’t taste sour, didn’t set off a pang that would jolt through your chest and weave itself into your core. It felt like nothing, like absence. The radar that would tell you that lying was wrong was shattered to pieces as a child. There wasn’t always complete truth in your answers, but that’s the way it needs to be. 

To protect yourself.

To keep yourself safe.

You knew what the mission was, you knew why Fury was willing to assign you to this job. He’s well aware of your skill set and your ability to distinguish between the situations that call for truth and the ones that require twisted words, falsities, and subterfuge. 

The best part was when the truth and the lies became indistinguishable; that’s when you really trapped them. That’s when your father’s praise would be the most boastful and proud, like you’ve saved the world.

Maybe you couldn’t do it. Maybe at the end of this, all you would do was deter the god of tricks from destroying a whole planet. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to save the Earth. But if you could save yourself and the other people you cared about, save a dream that you wouldn’t quite admit to inspiring you, that’d be enough.

That would be enough for you.

....

He doesn’t stop by for a few more days than he usually does and it bothers you. But only slightly. If anything, it’s because the plan you worked out in your head might be thwarted because you played the game a little too well. 

But then again he was more gullible than you originally believed. And it made you think. Made you wonder if his previous words were really true. 

You can’t expect me to believe that you don’t feel the same as I feel about you?

Because in your experience, people generally told the truth even when attempting to shield it for two reasons: there are strong romantic feelings involved or there was a fear of losing something with lots of value to that person. Sometimes it was both, but only on rare occasions. 

Loki wasn’t someone that would vacillate between the truth and deceit that quickly. It was out of character, inherently wrong to you. 

He lies, like all the time. That’s what he’s good at, so why were his eyes so exposed and honest? Why were his defenses so obviously lowered? 

If he only allowed you to see what he wanted you to see, then why display something so raw? To pull you in? No, that can’t possibly be right. That would be too easy and something he knows you would have seen right through. 

But to play around? Charm you with his soulful eyes and pearly white smile. Think again. You’ve seen through that, explains why he didn’t try that angle the last time you saw him. 

Honest? Absolutely not. However, you were steadily running out of reasons to explain his behavior.

And the most irritating part of it all was the fact that you were even trying to decode this in the first place. 

Widow was wrong. You didn’t feel anything for him. Just like you didn’t feel anything for him now; you were simply trying to get an understanding of your opponent. 

….

He came, the window seal popped as he climbed in via the fire escape. Doors do exist, you wanted to call out, but you didn’t want to give him the impression that you enjoyed his frequent visits or that you’d been secretly waiting for that sound to echo through your apartment. 

The TV rambled on in front of you, but you paid no attention, listening for the boots to thump against your hardwood floors and waiting for his lanky figure to become visible to you. 

He didn’t hiss, didn’t announce himself, didn’t have any blood anywhere on his person. He was here on business, then. 

“You know, that was quite the show you put on last time.” 

He sat next to you on the couch, barely far enough from you so that you wouldn’t touch. His eyes bore into the side of your head but you don’t pay him any mind. You’re thinking now. He can’t mess up your focus. 

(The back of your neck heats up but he’s not close enough to feel that.)

You flip to the news and watch an interview with a man who claims he’s seen aliens. Internally, you laugh. You haven’t see anything yet. 

“I can tell you’re ignoring me.” He wrestles the remote out of your clenched hands, the only sign of your struggle, a sign you didn’t notice. “And that you know I’m right.”

You don’t give him anything to feed off of but feel a void in your stomach grow. If he could read you this easily, what else would he know about? But you weren’t had yet. He wouldn’t be insisting on your focus if he was convinced. 

You hadn’t stop thinking. Hadn’t stopped analyzing. That was safe. That would protect you. 

“And…” he placed a freezing hand on your cheek, like he was on a frozen planet instead of in your apartment. Your eyes snapped to his involuntarily. You mentally kicked yourself. “And that you weren’t really in pain. That you pretended to be hurt.”

Damn. 

You didn’t break yet though. How would he know, what’s his proof? You waited and he smiled at your non response. “Always such the statue of patience and brevity. I wish I could be as silent as you sometimes.” 

Your eyes left his face and you turned to the kitchen, losing interest on whatever preamble he was about to make. You weren’t going to fall into him by his charms and floral phrases. You need concrete proof and evidence, not bombast conversation that would get you nowhere. 

When you stood, he didn’t follow surprisingly. “I see I’ve lost your attention.” He laughs and you continue to prod over the fridge, opening it with a soft pop to start making dinner. “Never one for my charm, huh?”

“You’re deflecting.” You observe flatly, attempting to keep your voice cool and controlled. You succeed because the grin slightly falls off his face. “What do you want?” 

He breathes, treading over to your workstation and standing so close your shoulders touch and the invisible frost on his clothes press into your skin, making it pucker. 

Where had he been? 

“I want the truth.” You scoff and lean away from him, Loki angling towards you at the lack of support once there. The knife gleams in your hand as you cut up chicken, attempting to make an Asian staple. It’s good to keep your hands working, busy. It distracts from the way his eyes flutter over your face, watching and open. 

You let his words ring before answering. “Do you know who you are?” You’re making cubes now, angling the blade with precision and the finesse of a professionally trained chief. “You haven’t been completely honest with me the whole time.”

“But that’s because the truth will separate us.” He places his hands over yours, gently asking you to stop, to listen. You’re afraid if you listen too well, you’ll lose your footing. That’s the last thing you want. “And I don’t want that.”

And those eyes are there, warm and open, simmering in the truth in his statement. Why would he be afraid to lose you? You’re not special; you have next to no worth to him. 

But it cuts. It tears to the core because you always wanted to mean something to someone, to be important, but you knew that would never happen. 

You’re not willing to bet that he’s the right choice. 

“Liar.” You echo his words back to him and he bristles, letting your hands go as if they’re fire. Like they’ll mortally wound him. You likely called his bluff. 

It doesn’t rid the fact that his hand still froze your blood when he touched you. 

He looks angry now, eyes dark and consuming. Expression torn and upset. “Why do you think I would ever lie to you about that?” The previous conversation dropped immediately because of your statement. Good. But it raises more questions about his emotional honesty than you want to answer. 

“You lied about being seriously injured.” You swipe the chicken into the pan, the pieces sizzling against the oil waiting for it. “Lied about being worried about me.” It’s a trap if he answers it and even if he doesn’t. You’re more curious to see what he’ll say. See how far you’ve actually ensnared him. 

He almost growls. It’s so foreign it shocks you for a minute, causes you to pause. But only for a second before you keep on stirring. Waiting for him to continue.  

But he just stares, his anger simmering his blood, his fury vibrating the air and for a second you consider the fact that you might have overstepped. 

Then he speaks through barely restrained frustration. “First of all, dearest, I happen to heal faster than you mortals are able to. I was not pretending when I was bloody on your door.” He steps closer and you watch his boots, not his face. You tell yourself you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of your attention but there’s a lingering fear of what you’ll see if you look up. 

“Secondly.” He places a shaking hand against your cheek and draws your face around so he can see you, watch as he tells you his next words. “I am consumed by you. You and your wordless help, your lack of judgement, your willingness to aid me at my lowest. I am my truest self around you.” His honesty stabs you in the gut and your resolve is weakening. Think. Think. 

“Do not,” he cups your face with both hands and forces all of his pent up emotion into your eyes, all of his passion and yearning to make you understand the depths of his soul. His deepest truth. “Do not dismiss my feelings and tell me they aren’t real. You own every part of me. That — that is the truth.”

And you could kiss him right now because you know that he’s giving you nothing but honesty. No amount of training or practice can imitate love or deep affection.  You know he’s not lying and it hurts that he knew you were the other day. 

But you were only lying partly, not wholly, not truly. 

The salt running down your cheeks was real. The lingering pain at the loss of your father was real. It was the anniversary of his death, the day you drown yourself in paperwork and your job so you don’t have to come home and face the fact that your only tie to and evidence of your once normal life disappeared with him. 

You were playing a game that wasn’t completely false and you were a little hurt that he only saw it that way. You don’t know why. You won’t admit why. 

And the way he looks at you right now could end it all, but you’re better than that. You’re also good at knowing an opportunity when you see one. 

“Okay,” you breathe letting a hand rest upon his forearm, drawing his hand away from your right cheek to hold, to warm. It’s a small gesture but one you see him melt under, seeing his words penetrate your mind, worm under your barrier. “I believe you.”

He closes his eyes in relief and brings your heads together, breathing you in, wanting you closer. 

You take in the moment, oddly at peace standing like this. Not feeling trapped. Not feeling cornered or forced. This is genuine. You relish in it. 

Then, you softly murmur. “I wasn’t lying, that day.” 

His eyes stay closed but he squeezes your hand, asking for more without saying it and you oblige. “It was the anniversary of my father’s passing.”

His eyes open then, scanning for falsehoods and lies. When he can’t find them, he looks shocked, like he can’t reconcile the fact that you’re being completely honest with him. Touché. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice is warm, sincerity running through his words and you accept it. It’s easier like this, no doubt, but this is only temporary. When tomorrow comes, this will all be a daydream. 

But for now, you try to enjoy it. “‘s okay. It’s been a few years now.” 

He smiles and you're disoriented, moving away from his warming chill. The fire that’s usually present is gone from his hands but it’s like you’re standing next to a fireplace. You attempt to lean away but he traps you with an arm around your waist. “It’s just...you’ve never really shared more than what was absolutely necessary. I must be making progress.”

You don’t confirm or deny that statement. His grin widens even more. 

“But.” He traces a line across your forehead to catch a strand of hair in his hand, looping it around his finger to clear it from your face. “I do have a proposition.” His delicateness is disorienting and you slid out of his grasp to clear your mind, to take the time to fully process his words and scan his intentions. His arms linger in the air, searching for your form to hold again. He doesn’t say anything, but stays put, likely aware of what you’re doing.

This new territory will take some time to get used to, you can only stand so much at once. He seems to understand but his eyes are warry, trying not to give too much away, observing you and your reaction.

You don’t give him anything to be nervous about as you attend to the neglected chicken, fishing it out of the bubbling oil and onto a plate, before starting to slice your vegetables. You take a breath, wondering if this was all just fake. 

Of course it was partially on your end; you knew your mission came first and that your feelings couldn’t be genuine, it wasn’t fair to expect complete truthfulness from him if you were concealing ulterior motives. But just as his feelings weren’t completely false, your growing affection for him wasn’t a lie either.

And it scared you a bit. He’s not the one. 

You looked to him and he saw your countenance change, saw you weaving your barriers back together to protect yourself. “I promise it’s nothing completely horrifying.” He weakly laughed, hoping that you would soften again. You could only smirk, focusing on the green onion and carrots dropping into the pan.

“It’s a ball,” He drawled, stepping closer to you. You didn’t avoid him, you couldn’t give him a reason that his behavior was wrong. You’re slipping. But maybe that’s a good thing. “And I happen to have two tickets…” He leaned against the counter, staring into the side of your head like he loved to do when you wouldn’t look at him. You took a deep breath.

He leaned towards your face, grinning when a blush skittered across your cheeks. “So? Say something, tell me how you’re feeling.” His voice was warm, sweet like a child bringing you their favorite toy, trusting it in your care knowing that you could break it in half. 

“Well…” You poured off the food onto two plates and worked on the rice and the sauce. “What’s the cause for celebration?”

“Just a small technological advance, trivial in my opinion, but worthwhile to some connections I have.”

“Oh, you have people that don’t hate you?”

“Aren’t you looped into the same lot of the very people you speak of?”

“Says who?” You combined the darkly colored substances, sugar, and a bit of salt into a sauce pan, melding them into each other.

He scoffed and dumped the measured rice into the pot as the water boiled. “For being such the example of silence, you sure have a fiery and unrestrictedly honest opinion.”

“And you wonder why I’m so quiet.” You peered at his work over your shoulder, frowning at his skilled use of spoon and knowledge of putting the lid over the steaming water and rice, cutting the flame. He knows more than you give him credit for. “Come.” He snaps his attention to you, gaze determined, like he can will you to go. “Join me for the evening, although I can’t promise it will be interesting the entire time.”

You laugh and his eyes soften. “Please, as if you’d want me there.”

He hardens, angry again. “Why— you know what, Lady statue,” He places his hands on his hips and peers down at you with superiority. His arrogance causes a smile to break out on your face. Like he could beat you in an argument. “Riddle me this. Why do you think I’ve endeavored to pick up two tickets?”

He’s right, but not completely. “Simple.” You pour the sauce over the vegetables and the chicken, waiting for the rice to finish. “You wished me to join you, but if this somehow went south, you could either invite someone else or complain about how your date stood you up, garnering sympathy from all the women there.”

He feigns being shot. “You wound me.” Stepping over to you, he takes your free hands in his, tugging you a little closer. “That you would think that desperate of me. I wouldn’t complain; I would pretend that you were coming, hoping for your arrival and looking more despondent that you haven’t. That would be a sure winner.”

You rolled your eyes and went over to the rice. Scooping a couple heapings on both plates, you set them down on the island by the bar stools. “Well well, such the strategist.” You deadpan and walk around to your seat. Loki follows sitting in front of the second plate.

“Is this for me?”

“You’re here. Might as well eat. No poison tonight. Scouts honor.” Loki looks like that means much, but you ignore him, digging into your rice, the small grains bursting against your mouth. He takes that as assurance and sits. 

Once he gets good into eating his meal, the two of you eating in a comfortable silence, you reach out and stroke your fingers through his midnight hair. It’s gentle but he pauses, watching you, startled into freezing.

You work down to his cheek, holding it, smiling at how surprised he became. “Seven o’clock. I’ll be ready.”

He fumbles to put his fork down. “How did you know what time it was?” He mumbles through a mouth full of rice.

“Oh, please.” You skewer a piece of chicken with your fork, holding it away from your mouth to finish your sentence. “I have connections too. I was already invited.”

He almost spits out his food and you hide a smile while you chew. “You knew the whole time?”

“It was funny to watch you squirm.” You speak between bites, full on grinning now.

He slides his eyes to yours like a predator, seeking revenge. “You’ll be sorry about that.”

“Will I?” You frown, pretending to be innocent. “I thought you wanted the first dance.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I hear some of the men there are quite charming.” You sip your water, waiting for him to go off.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight.” He says it with a seriousness that gives you pause, and you look at him, drinking him in, admiring his features and his unabashed words. You grin and place a tender hand on his cheek, feeling his skin warm under your fingers. 

“Okay.” You breathe and he closes his eyes and leans into your hand, covering it with his own.

“Okay.” He repeats, comfortable and happy.

“Okay.” You whisper. It’s more to you than to him, like you trusting him in this. Trust is a very funny thing and very fickle. It’s easily broken but hard to establish and build. It can all come crumbling apart in seconds, doubt it’s largest destructor. But maybe taking a chance can lead to more reward than ruin. Maybe more stability than chaos.

And that’s something you need, an anchor for all of the emotions you’re beginning to drown under.

....

a/n: I’d written part 3 a while ago, but I hated how fast it progressed their relationship so I completely started over to make this and it is light years better than the trash I originally wrote. hope you thoroughly enjoyed their banter and firting.

[babyspiderling]

The Moonwalker and the Time-Traveler Prologue

California, 2020

 “Ms. L/N, I suggest you wake up for my class if you want to pass this course.” I blink up at my professor, it seems that I fell asleep during history class again. “I’m sorry Professor Berkley, I was up all last night with my roommate tinkering all night.” At that he softens, a grandfatherly look in his eye. “Oh Y/N, I understand, but if you truly want to be a history major, you have to stay awake! I will not simply give you a free pass while trying to adjust, just please, try to stay awake in my class.” Standing, I nod. “Yes sir. I’ll do my best.” After this, I am dismissed and head back to my dorm room to hopefully catch a nap. 

Kicking the door shut, I move to collapse onto my bed, but am blocked by whatever my engineering major roommate has built in the dorm for his latest project. “Seriously dude? Don’t you have a lab for this kind of stuff?” I kick off my shoes and do my best to move around it, finally, truly collapsing onto my bed. I fall asleep quickly, hopefully revisiting the dream I had during class. 

Lord knows how much later, I wake up to my roommate continuing to tinker on his project. Grumbling under my pillow, “Danny, don’t you have a lab for this shit? Why do you have to do it here, I’m sleeping in classes because of this!” He sheepishly lifts his head up to respond. “Uh, well, I uh… It’satimemachine.” Snapping my head up, I question “It’s a what?” Once again he looks shy and guilty. “It’s a, uh, Time Machine. Or at least that’s what I’m wanting it to be. I’m still working on it.” Well, I’m definitely awake now. “So, like, what’s the problem?” Finally putting down his tools, Danny turns to me, “It should work. I ran the simulations and used the one that worked. It’s just… not connecting I guess.” Glancing at the clock, it’s getting late. “Look Danny, I’m going to clean up some of my stuff. Go get some food. I know you haven’t eaten yet.” With a defeated sigh, Danny agrees and leaves the room. I slip into a pair of shorts and an old David Bowie tour shirt I had found at a thrift store. Picking up things here and there, folding abandoned pieces of laundry, I hum and bop around the room, dancing along to “Working Day and Night”, practicing turns and isolations to the beat. Taking a deep breath I prep and spin as fast and as long as I can, but my foot slips out from under me. I tumble to the floor, tripping over some cord. Oh well, it’s probably Danny's “mood lighting”, I plug it in and decide to check out the “Time Machine”. “Ground Control to Major Tom! Prepare for lift-off!” I press random buttons, dicking around and typing 1984, then some other buttons. “Huh, sucks it really doesn’t work. It’d be cool if you really could time travel.” Once again I trip over Danny’s junk on the floor of the project and slam into one last button I had yet to press. On the way down I hit my head, and the world went black as a whirring sound filled my ears. 

Waking up, I find myself in a room about the size of mine, decorated much like my side of the dorm, with a funky retro feeling to it. “Danny, this isn’t funny, I get it, I’m gullible for believing the machine was real. Now how the Hell did you change all this so quick… and get rid of the machine?” I continue searching the room for Danny, and realise that the sun had already risen hours ago. I may have been out for longer than I thought, and come crashing into a body. Awesome! Now I can really teach that boy a lesson for pulling that. “Hey, what are you doing in my dorm? Nice shirt by the way, I was at the Anaheim show a couple months ago. That’s where you got the shirt, right?” I blink at the guy my age, still processing the amount of denim and hair products he has decided to use for the day. “What? Oh, uh, my shirt. Wait, did you say you saw him in Anaheim a couple months ago? What year are you from?” He knits his brows together. “1984. Are you ok? Did you get a bad hit or something? Do I need to call someone for you?” I space myself from him, the stimulation of this whole situation too much. “No, no I’m ok. What’s today’s date?” His eyes are still filled with concern as he replies with January 26th 1984, and that I’m still at University of Redlands, just 36 years before I attend. “Wait, January 26th, why does that sound so familiar? I hear Beat It blare down the hall and I can practically see the light bulb above my head. “Do you know how to get to the Shrine Auditorium?” 

We zip down the highway on Tyler’s motorcycle, making a trip down to L.A. He had me explain my whole ordeal to him before he just drove me to a random concert venue. It took a bit to convince him, but the second I pulled my smartphone out he was on board. He pulls off to a strip mall and helps me dismount. “Wait, why are we at a mall? I need to get to that venue before security secures it.” He just rolls his eyes. “If you want to get in and stay in without too much attention, you need to look a little bit different. Time to fit in.” He drags me into store after store, and I finally piece together a “Bad” inspired outfit. A black crop top slips off one shoulder, leather pants pull tight around my legs and hips, a blood red leather jacket drapes my shoulders, and matching leather boots clutch my feet. “Tyler, this is too much. I can’t even pay you back.” He rolls his eyes and pays for the clothes, letting me keep my own hoops and rings. “Look, just meeting a time traveler is cool, dressing one is even better. When you get back home and you still want to pay me back, we’ll figure it out. Let’s get you to the moonwalker himself.” 

As we pull into the parking lot for the venue, there isn’t another soul in sight. “Hey, here’s my address, if you ever want to mail me, or just let me know that you’re doing ok.” He hands me a slip of paper, and I hug him tightly. “Thank you Tyler, I am forever in your debt. If you’re anywhere near the university in 2020, let me know.” With that, he rides back home into the sunset, and I sneak into the venue before security shows up. 

It’s a good thing I like the song Billie Jean, because I have heard it about 72 times in the last hour. During sound check alone I almost lost my mind, with just the baseline intro playing for 30 minutes. As I hear the cue from the director that it is time to actually film the commercial. I hear “Take One!” in the distance and I ditch my jacket behind a stack of crates, my phone hidden in the pocket. I find the side entrance of the stage as take 3 is anounced. I crouch down in a runners position at take 5, launching myself at take 6. Michael nears the pyrotechnic and I slam my body into his as it goes off, now missing him by inches. There are screams of terror and shock as we fly through the air, now spun so that I land on my back, Michael on top of me. His brothers quickly help him up and off of me as I am seized by security, doing my best to put as little weight on my now injured ankle as possible. I raise my hands in surrender, trying to think my way out of this. “Look! Look, I can explain all of this, including how I knew that this take wasn’t going to go well. Let me explain and I will never try to contact any of you again!” Everyone around me exchanges glances, deciding whether to trust me or not. Tito steps forward, his eyes full of scrutiny. “Alright girl, explain.” I sigh and grimace in pain. “I can’t do it out here. Too many people. And my evidence of my claims are in my jacket backstage.” He glances back at Michael, nodding in response to his younger brother. I am escorted backstage, am allowed to sit down to relieve my ankle, and I start my story. “I’m from the future, 36 years in the future to be a bit more specific. I’m not crazy.” Michael crouches down in front of me, “If you’re really a time traveler I would love to talk about the future with you!” He’s nudged and given a look from his older brothers, and his smile is dimmed a bit. “But if you’re from the future, wouldn’t you know songs I haven’t released yet?” I nod my head, but I get hit with the issue of Thriller already being released and the “Bad” sessions not yet started for at least another 6 months, if not more. I flip through the collection of Michael songs I know by heart, trying to find one he’s recorded but not yet released. “Oh! I know about “Love never felt so good”! The one you recorded with Paul Anka! I can sing it for you!” I start at the chorus, my brain too frazzled to remember it’s entirety. Everyone else who knows about the song exchanges looks, one brother even shouting questions of how I knew it. “It’s on my phone, and I’m from the future. All your music’s been released. Well, almost all of it. There’s still tracks from your upcoming session that I have yet to find. Here, I can show you.” Lifting myself from my seat, I reach to retrieve my jacket from behind the crates. Everyone watches me with baited breath, wanting to see what the time traveler will pull out next. I pull out my phone and search for the Xscape album. I press play on the original track and Michael's voice rings out from the speaker. I switch it up to “Working Day and Night”, what I was listening to before I got here. 

“Look, I can play you anything you’ve already recorded. I just can’t play you anything you haven’t done yet. Those are the rules.” Michael escorts me back to his dressing room to ask me questions about the future since I am no longer seen as crazy. “Are there flying cars ? What about people living in space? Are there aliens?” I giggle at his excitement. “Well, we do have people living in space, it isn’t commercialized yet, so you and I couldn’t go. We don’t have flying cars, but we do have self driving ones. And there are no known aliens yet. Music is accessible though. If I had any service in 1984, I could play you any song any time from anyone. I could listen to “Wanna be Startin Somethin’” for 3 days straight if I wanted to. All I’d have to do is type it in and press play.” His eyes sparkle in awe of the future. He opens his mouth to ask more questions, but Jermaine and another man enters the room before he can get a word out, “Come on Mike, we need to finish the commercial. This is an EMT we had on site, he’s here to fix her ankle.” As Michael leaves his seat, I grab his hand. “Please, don’t let them turn the pyrotechnics back on. Please.” He nods and pats my hand before leaving the room. The EMT removes my new boots and my ankle swells before my eyes, no longer constrained in the tight leather. We make small talk as he works until the commercial is done recording. 

[anistarrose]

I don’t think anyone necessarily asked for a mildly angsty but mostly just ridiculous Gravity Falls x TAZ Balance crossover involving a case of mistaken identity, but apparently I sure did write the intro to one, so here it is:

***

“Excuse me? Anyone home?”

Stan was sorting merchandise in the gift shop when he heard the knock on the door and the muffled voices, and spent several seconds internally debating whether he wanted to answer. He was pretty sure he’d flipped the sign to around to its “CLOSED” side for the night, and he was positively exhausted from a long day of fixing the leaky roof with Soos — but autumn was also rapidly rolling in, with the least profitable season for tourism right on its heels.

Ultimately, his pragmatic side won out. These late-night visitors were also potential customers, and he couldn’t pass up any moneymaking opportunity after the latest series of unexpected repair fees. If he ended up losing the Shack by just a matter of a few hundred dollars that he easily could’ve scammed these tourists out of, he didn’t know what he’d do with himself.

As he made his way towards the door, a second, more gravelly voice spoke up from outside. “We’re just scientists looking to ask a couple questions! Should only take a few minutes!”

That piece of information didn’t give Stan pause quite like it should have. If anything, it gave him hope that maybe they’d be especially gullible, not unlike another nerd he used to know.

But his hopes were crushed only a few seconds after opening the door and putting on his best fake smile. He saw his three visitors’s expressions morph from something vaguely apprehensive to eerily enthusiastic, like they’d just reunited with a long-lost friend.

The man at the front of the party was the first to speak up, his eyes beaming behind square glasses. Like his two companions, he wore a long red robe with a patch vaguely reminiscent of the NASA logo over the left breast, but unlike the others, he also had on a pair of faded blue jeans.

“Ford!” he exclaimed. “It’s so good to see you again!”

Fuck, Stan thought.

“I told you two that I had a good feeling about this house!” The woman at his side stopped twirling her umbrella, and threw an arm over Stan’s shoulder. “But I hadn’t pinned you as a ramshackle log cabin tourist trap kinda guy, Ford! What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“Got any mad science experiments hidden under that roof?” the man in jeans asked. “Out here in the middle of nowhere does seem like a good place to mess around with interdimensional rifts and that kinda shit.”

Stan sucked in a breath. “Can you… can you keep it down?” he stammered in what he hoped was a decent impression of Ford. “My research is supposed to be confidential —”

“Oh, of course! That’s my bad, didn’t mean to jeopardize your cover or anything,” the man in jeans hurriedly whispered back. “Is inside the house a better place to talk?”

“I might’ve… overreacted. Talking out here is fine, just lower your voice.” Think, Stan. How are you going to get rid of these people? “Normally I’d invite you inside to give you a tour, but for one thing, it’s getting late — and I also had an invention malfunction the other day, making the whole place… very smelly. Trust me, you don’t want to spend the night here —”

“Oh, we can handle it. Merle picked up a corpse flower seven cycles ago and it’s stinking up the ship like crazy right now. Your lab can’t possibly be worse,” the umbrella-toting woman told him as she walked past him into the Shack. “Tomorrow morning we’ll call Cap’nport and the rest of the crew over and we can all help you clean up. Then you’ll give us the grand tour and show off the inventions that don’t stink up the place!”

The final member of their party followed her into the Shack, giving the stuffed antelabbits in the hallway a bemused look while taking off the red jacket he wore over his matching robe.

“By the way, you probably guessed from our whole ‘knocking on random doors’ thing, but we’re still looking for the Light,” he announced matter-of-factly. “Only got about a month left before the big ol’ cosmic nihilism comes and slurps up this planar system for breakfast, so we could use your help searching.”

Stan’s jaw dropped.

“Hey, what’s with that look?” the man asked, tossing his jacket onto a faux antler coathanger. “You know the drill — unless…”

“Unless?” his colleagues echoed.

Before Stan could blurt out a half-convincing excuse, the man grabbed one of Stan’s hands and held it up to the light. “Aha! Five fingers!”

“You’re a parallel version of the Ford we know? Why didn’t you just say so?” the man in jeans asked.

Stan’s other two guests exchanged a Look with a capital L. It reminded Stan of Looks that he’d exchanged with Ford back in the good old days… and come to think of it, these two visitors did look an awful lot like siblings…

“I’m not quite sure it’s a parallel universe situation, Barry,” the woman with the umbrella spoke up after a moment. Narrowing her eyes at Stan, she added: “I can’t see why our new Ford-adjacent friend would’ve played along with it if it was…”

“Alright, you got me!” Stan blurted out. “I’m not Stanford, or any version of him — I’m his twin brother. Stanley Pines.”

Barry frowned. “Did Ford ever mention a brother to you two?” he asked his companions.

“Nah, but he did give us a lot of weird looks after he learned we were twins,” the man who’d discarded the jacket replied. “I think this Stanley guy’s telling the truth.”

“You go by Stan, by any chance?” the woman with the umbrella asked. “Stanford was always weirdly adamant that he was Ford, and not Stan.”

Stan nodded slowly. “Sounds like you got to know him pretty well, then…”

“Yeah, you could say that. We’ve run into him — what, twelve times in the last twenty years? By the way, I’m Lup, and this is Taako and Barry.”

(to be continued? I don’t know, I’ve got a million other fic obligations I need to finish writing. maybe someday)

[darthspideys]

clean --- chapter one

chapter one - in the restaurant that Downey recommended  

summary: Tom calls you and somehow convinces you to tell him everything 

a/n: is this a 1400 word excuse for me to write a ton of dialogue and exposition? yeah pretty much

                                                     ------

He only waited two days to text you, and he’d wanted to wait less than that. You on the other had weren’t even sure if he’d thought about texting you because he was a huge movie star and you are you. But when an unknown number flashed up on your screen you let out a small gasp at your desk. 

Unknown Number: Hi. It’s Tom. 

Unknown Number: Holland. 

Unknown Number: I wanted to know if you wanted to maybe get lunch. 

(Y/N): hmmm let me think about it

(Y/N): yeah sure. 

(Y/N): I’m free in an hour, does that work? 

Unknown Number: yeah that sounds great

(Y/N): let me know where 

Tom freaking Holland: okay

An hour later you sat across from Tom Holland at a very nice restaurant in Downtown Atlanta. You peered through the menu absent mindedly, wondering what to say and what you were even doing there. “This place is really nice.” You said suddenly, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah, Downey recommended it.” 

“Oh my god.” You laughed, burying your head in your hands for a second. 

“What?” He asked, a confused look on his face. 

“The way you said that, you say that so casually like you didn’t ask me to come to a place that was recommended by Robert Downey Jr. Like that’s-that’s crazy.” She leaned back into her chair, “Does explain why it’s so nice though.” 

The next thing you knew he was smiling at you. “That was a rollercoaster. I thought you were mad at me, and then-” 

“A rollercoaster? Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.” 

“I mean in a good way.” He said, “In the best way possible.” 

“Uh-huh.” A pause, “So I’d ask you about yourself but I think I already know kind of everything.” 

“That’s a little creepy.” 

“I mean there are people who know more than me, of course but like I know the basic stuff you would want to know, what you do, why you like it, what your up to, how many brothers and sisters you have-perks of being a celebrity I guess.” You shrugged, “You get to skip all the small talk.” 

“Correction: I get to skip the small talk.” He narrowed his eyes at you, “I still need to know all of that about you.” 

“Darn it. And here I was thinking I’d successfully tricked you with all the disturbing personal information I know about you.” 

“Not today.” He said as the waitress came over and dropped of your drinks and took your order. “I know what you do, and what your working on but lets-get-personal.” 

“Oh yes let’s dive right into the part of all this that I dislike the most.” 

“We all have to do things we dislike. Why do you want to do your job-go?” 

“I like to take photos.” You leaned back into your chair and crossed her arms over her chest. He raised an eyebrow at you teasingly. “Okay fine. It’s kind of a long story.” 

“That’s what we’re here for.” He replied. 

“I started off at film school.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“I had this dream of being a director, and my parents were less than thrilled but they let me go. Then a year in I realized that I wasn’t as good as everyone else and when the other people in your class-mainly the boys find out that you want to be anything more than a sound designer, well anyways I kinda dropped out.” 

“You dropping out?” He feigned surprise, “Wow I can’t believe-” 

“Shut up!” You laughed, a little louder than you meant to. “You don’t know me.”

“Well I want to.” 

“Fine, fine.” You continued with the story, “The last class I took before I dropped out- and it was you guessed it cinematography.” 

“Now the pieces are coming together.” 

“So I took a gap year and I went to Europe.” 

“The plot thickens.” 

“And I saw some things that made me think wow this would look great in a movie but I had just quit film school and I didn’t have a crew or anything. So I took some pictures, like a lot. Like I had to buy extra phone storage.” You remember standing in the middle of a field, enamored by all the beauty before you and just snapping a few photos of the whole thing. 

“That’s where those came from.” 

“You looked me up?” You asked him, surprised that he cared that much about you after only one meeting. 

“Uh, just a little. I wanted to see some of your photos.” He replied. 

“Well that’s creepy, let’s change the subject to that. What makes you think that internet stalking is okay Mr Holland?” You asked. 

“Back up, you didn’t finish the story.” 

“Fine fine but we will get back to the searching and the stalking. Anyways I took the pictures and I sold them, and they kinda went viral and I decided to do this photography thing full time. After I went back to school to make my parents happy. Major in Journalism minor in photography which I shouldn't have done cause it sucks.” You explained, “Journalism majors are mean, not as mean as guys in film school but still.” 

“You say this as a journalism student.”

“Oh I’m not saying I’m not mean. I can be if needed, we’re also notorious gossips, early work experience I guess.” You realized that you had been talking for a long time and suddenly felt very self conscious. “I got off on a tangent there-that’s what happens when you ask me a question.” 

“What you tell amazing stories? I won’t ask you anymore questions then, wouldn’t want to hear any cool stories about your almost life as a feature film director.” He said, smiling. 

“Flattery will you get you nowhere with me.”

“Noted.”

“I’m kidding! Compliment me all you want.” The food was brought to the table and the two of you started to eat. You pretend to write something down in a notebook, “Extremely gullible.” You teased trying to emulate his accent, “Noted.” 

“If I knew you were going to do was tease me I wouldn't have invited you.” 

“Well I’m here now which means you are pretty unlucky.”

He smiled and you swore his eyes sparkled. “I’m actually pretty lucky.” 

You looked down at the table and ate some of your mood for a moment, letting the feeling pass. “So now that I’ve spilled about my directing pipe dreams, tell me did you always know that you wanted to be an actor?” 

“Oh no way. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was ten, but soon after that I realized my true calling.” 

“Wow-I hate you.”

“What?”

“I’m serious your like everything that I hated when I started film school, so sure of yourself and what you want to do its terrible.” She paused, “Because I want that.” 

“Well don’t you have it now?”

“Nah.” You took another bite of your food, “I’m happy but it still feel like something is missing.” 

“Maybe it has nothing to do with your job.”

Before you could ask what he meant, you saw someone take a photo of the two of you out of the corner of your eye. You moved your head so you couldn't be seen and leaned into Tom, “I think we’ve been spotted.” 

“Shoot.” He stood up, leaving money on the table. “Let’s get out of here.” He put on a pair of sunglasses, like that could stop anyone from noticing him, and the two of you slipped out of the restaurant and onto the street. “Sorry-that happens.” He sighed, not quite knowing where the situation was going next. 

“Not everyday you get to pull a James Bond trying to escape from lunch.” You told him, “But speaking of which-” You turned so that you were facing him again, “-what are we doing here?” 

“Right here? Well I mean we could go-”

“No-I mean, why did you invite me for lunch?”

“Because I wanted to get to know you better.” 

“There’s got to be more to it than that.” 

“What if there’s not?” He said but his eyes said, What if there is? “I think your journalism instincts are kicking in. You don’t have to deep dive on everything, (Y/N).” 

“Fine, fine. Do your friends know your here?”

“No.”

“Castmates?”

“No.” 

“Family members?”

“No.” 

You nodded, “Okay.” 

“Does that tell you what your doing here?” 

“Not really but it tells me what we can do.” You replied. 

“Which is?” He asked, with a smile. 

“Anything.”

[gravityfissure]

[meta] What, if any, games, movies, books, tv shows, etc. have you drawn influence from for your character?

Okay so round 2, much in the same vein for Arthur there are... A lot. Possibly even more things that influence and inspire where Otto’s muse and views comes from. That said in writing this there are also a LOT of similarities between the characters I can pick out certain attributes and to be honest there’s a lot of crossover with the traits and characterisations highlighted.

Namely: playful and proactive, self-serving yet loyal to those that meet his criteria as to who is deserving of it. A grifter by nature that will approach almost any situation if he feels he’ll get something out of it while equally hoping that one day someone might actually bother to ask him (and maybe give him a true reason) to stay.

Dorian - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Uh, the heir of a famous magical dynasty? A flair of magical talent that made him the envy of his peers? Studied at one of the best colleges for the magical arts before being kicked out and privately tutored before eventually vanishing and being found by Magister Gereon Alexius who offered to take him as his apprentice eventually becoming a fully-ranked enchanter. A pariah for opposing every fault his homeland is renowned for?

It’s been years since I’ve played DA:I and Dorian always was one of my favourite characters but tbh I completely forgot his background and it’s only in revisiting it now I actually realise the similarities in the framework of their characters/development/story line. Not to mention the fact they both enjoy playful flirtation and witty banter and oppose the things they don’t fit into their view of the world. They will probably do the right thing, but that doesn’t mean they might not take their sweet ass time in actually getting into a situation.

Isabela - Dragon Age II and Inquisition 

AND AGAIN. Isabela’s a great character - a pirate scourge of coastlines and nations around the world who values fun, freedom and getting ahead in life. They both value solving situations in clever and devious ways and getting ahead even if it means being somewhat selfish when they’re dealing with other people, example: Otto conning Deirdre out of $28k when she tried to cover for Regan or those plans he has to try and record a banshee scream? They’re both always down for trying to squeeze that little bit extra out of a person. If it one ups them in life and people are gullible enough to fall for it well... They really did it to themselves didn’t they?

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t depths to that hardened persona they both present. There are actual feelings and things hidden behind the wall and appearance they both present to the world. And underneath it all they’re both afraid of being left behind, but figure it’s best to push people away before they decide to leave of their own volition. At least that way they can say they have some control over the situation.. 

Sera - Dragon Age: Inquisition

Apparently this is a DA characters list but you know what sue me. x) So NEXT on the list is Sera, an elven archer who is incredibly impulsive and reactionary. She takes pure delight in humbling the established authority she views as arrogant and selfish. It’s less about what’s right in the grand scheme of things but more about what’s right in that very moment. She doesn’t believe in actions taken for a greater good, instead viewing it as just another excuse to hurt others undeserving of such treatment because it’s easier than making the truly hard choices in life. 

Felix Dawkins - Orphan Black

Look Felix is one of the many fascinating characters on Orphan Black. Don’t get me wrong there are SO many and it’s a great show. But Felix is a character whose very existence proves that you can have a very effeminate, boisterous, loud, witty gay character and not have him be limited to the perpetuation of the sassy gay friend stereotype. Why? Because he has a whole complex personality beyond just that aspect of his life. He’s got to deal with real life issues on top of all the drama clone club brings into his life and he deals and he survives and he cOPES.

Not to mention he’s a positive representation of foster children being happy, positive representation of LGBTQ+ characters and gives positive representation of sex workers. Not to mention on top of all that representation you see how he’s smart as hell, the only person who knows Sarah well enough to keep her on track. The BEST uncle to Kira and one of the most supportive characters on the show. 

Sarah - Orphan Black

Felix’s foster-sister, another character that shows the positive and complex dynamic that foster families tend to have while also demonstrating the fascinating found-family dynamic with clone club. Sarah’s interesting because she’s a natural chameleon, she’s street-smart and tough, a born outsider living on the fringes by her wits while in possession of a dark sense of humour that sees her by.

Sarah and Otto have a rather morally ambiguous compass, they’re both characters who swing between being very self-serving and selfish and acting for the greater good when they decide it’s needed. Not to mention the act as if they don’t care about other people’s issues (see clone club) when actually it transpires they both might just care a little more than they actually let on.

Garcia Flynn - Timeless

Unfortunately Garcia fits the my favourite character type: tall, dark, snarky, sassy antihero motivated fiercely by love and willing to do things of questionable morality against a greater evil, self-aware and doesn’t make excuses for his behaviour, but isn’t wringing his hands over it either.  A character who so dearly loves the people in his life (see revenge for his wife and daughter) so much so he’s still fighting for them 5 years later just to be alive and not even to have anything to do with him again because he knows the things he’s done are enough the he could never go back to being that person for them. The man who loved his mum and went on a trip just to make her happy and save his brother. When he truly cares for someone he does EVERYTHING for them while somehow having none of the toxic jealous possessive business, despite his  well-attested Garbage Drama in other departments, and just generally being a mature adult and an essentially good person who has gone down some really dark places and is finally rediscovering what he’s buried and lost. Look man, I’m a suuuuuuuuuuuuucker for found family, enemies to lovers, and villain becomes weird family member. And he covers all of those, so yes. 

There’s a lot of that I’m planning and drawing on for Otto, this weird currently antagonistic little self-serving shit who is out for his own ends but maybe along the way finds some semblence of a conscious and maybe has a fair few moral dilemmas and self-questioning moments along the way? Who maybe finds friends (and even love?) Who has to deal with FEELINGS and things he’s repressed for years because of the things he’s done just to survive the life he fell into? Uh, yes give me give me give me.

Jesse Custer - Preacher

Okay, so this one’s kind of another given. Jesse’s another character I’m fascinated with because before Genesis’ arrival he was a down upon his luck preacher. A man who was trying so hard to fit into his dad’s ideal and not let the life he had before affect his day to day. Except it all goes to hell in a handbasket because of course it does.

Jesse essentially gains the ability to make anyone do anything he says. And that power? It’s addictive, and we see the struggle he goes through to learn how to control and manipulate it to his own end. To begin with he tries to right wrongs, to tell people to stop doing the bad things they’re doing in their lives and fix them so they’re better people but with each act that power and god-complex grows. It goes to his head until we meet the moronic messiah Humperdoo and Jesse eventually agrees to take his place. The messiah-complex and power corruption is complete, and the repercussions of his choices are devastating especially with how they impact Cassidy or Tulip and the repercussions in Angelville.

Much like Otto’s own magic, the more its used the more enticing it is to carry on using it for more and more things. At first it was small deeds, little acts of good until Otto in kind started to realise that good deeds weren’t enough to make a change. They weren’t enough for other people around him and with each act it grew and grew - and it continues to grow. The question is to what level? And if it ever got out of control, would he ever know how to stop it?

Crowley - Good Omens

An overall non-threatening demon, who tries to be “evil” in his own way to fit into the role his society (other demons) expect of him. Crowley wants to save the world (for his own reasons) and can be rather self-serving in certain moments. There’s plenty of times he tried to convince Aziraphale to run away with him and let everything else forgive the irony but for lack of a better term “go to hell” but he always comes around in the end (typically to a Queen track) to help when it really counts for something.

 Not to mention his flare for the dramatic, very rarely thinking things through, with many of his own plans backfiring on him.  

Sound familiar?

Wrench - Watch Dogs 2

Part-hacker and full-fledged anarchist who wears a freaky mask with LED displays capable of bizarre emoticons. He's vulgar, crude, entertaining and an absolute adrenaline junkie who lives on the edge. He's jokingly called the wrench because he's the wrench you throw into somebody's gears to grind them to a halt.

The final one on the list, because it’s a side I haven’t yet played into so much but I’m curious to given means and opportunity to. Otto does have some inclination towards an anarchistic nature, if a system doesn’t seem to work he isn’t afraid to speak out or more likely act out against it. Whether it’s in the greater good or not isn’t so much relevant rather that he would happily take a torch and burn something to the ground if it meant starting again with something new and better in its place. It’s definitely something I want to explore more down the line.

I also find it interesting the whole concept of “hiding behind a mask” which is something wrench quite literally does. Both have built personas to defend themselves from people breaking through and seeing that what actually exists on the other side is a rather shy and awkward person who tries to “act out” and be “dramatic” in an attempt to get attention from a world in which there’s so much noise how could anyone ever feel like their voice mattered let alone be heard unless they started shouting “HEY, LOOK AT ME” at the top of his lungs?