#but this was in the 1920s and you could do that then.

[blubushie]

what's something you wish more people knew about sniper's camper? (the setup or the car, iirc you mentioned they're separate?)

Yeah they're separate. That's a jack off camper so he can take the camper off and just drive the car without it.

You have to go outside to turn on your propane to use the stove or oven (or fridge, if your fridge is set up for propane cooling—most camper fridges are). You don't drive with your propane going. That shit is dangerous as hell (you risk leaking a very flammable gas).

He would have an oven in the camper. It's a small oven but it's an oven. That said temperature control is shit. The temp gauges read "hot → hotter". You need to leave a thermometer in it and then dick around with the dial so it stays at the temp you want, and it takes all fucken day to oven prep for any kind of baking. Also it's a bitch to light the pilot light for the damn thing. You need a torch to even see it.

His camper has a bathroom (and possibly a shower as well). The camper extends almost a metre off from the back of the Land Rover. That extra space is because there's a bathroom in it. That's where the bathroom is.

He drives a 1965 Land Rover Series IIA. You can tell it's not a Series II because the Series II had a branching attachment off the steering column that had the button for the horn on it. The Series IIA had the horn in the centre of the steering wheel like most cars do. Sniper's has the horn in the centre of the wheel, so it's a Series IIA.

Since Sniper's car is a Series IIA, like all Land Rovers from the 60s, it has an alternative crank-start engine (which basically means that it has an electric starter like regular cars—turn the key and car starts—while also having a manual crank starter like cars from the 1920s and earlier). These cars were built to be able to go anywhere, and recovery is hard if you're in the middle of nowhere, so if for any reason your engine wouldn't turn over (dead battery, anyone?) you could manually start it by attaching a crank to the engine through the grille and then cranking it really hard to provide enough power to the crankshaft for the engine to turn over. This is a blessing when your battery's dead cuz you left the fucken lights on.

That looks like this, btw. It's really cool and I genuinely wish more cars did this because it'd be a lifesaver in low battery situations, especially if you're somewhere where you can't recover a vehicle easily and have no one to jump it (such as while off-roading somewhere).

If you feature this in art or fic or something you gotta include the part where the crank whips back and whacks him hard on the shin though. For my sake. A little treat for Blu. Send him to the infirmary!!

(I don't know why the fuck they never made the shaft a locking ratchet like a socket wrench so it can't whip back... Would saved a lotta broken bones.)

[mars-ipan]

man my animation teacher is so cool. she’s such a chill person and i trust her a whole lot :)

[mybrainproblems]

My brain went on a whole thing about the retro-present of the spn verse last night and I just did not retain like. ANY of it.

[nooooooooooooooooooooone]

I got my hair cut short for the first time in 11 years and oh my god I am my mother 😱 how did this happen

[apparentlyautistic23]

Legend of Korra is.a badly written show. Like. It just is and we need to talk about it.

I see so many people talking about how they wanna protect it or it's all an attack against Korra, a POC queer woman, and like. Nah.

I know that LOK was written with a time constraint. They didn't know how many seasons they could get.

I see all of the characters. I see what they could be and I mourn that they were written as less than that. Korra especially. She fucking rules. It's not her, homies, it's this fucking awful ass plot.

There was planning for one season. And it was rushed. And it was shit. There's no way the writers didn't know it wouldn't be shit. They could see it coming. Either plan better or don't fucking do it. Jesus. It's following one of the best shows of all time and y'all give us this? Really??? REALLY??? If you're given one season, with this caliber of show to follow, make it count. Or make the bet. Follow shows like Firefly before you. They only got one season. But they made their bets and had a bigger plotline in place JIC. Because it matters. And for this reason, they still have a cult following a decade after their initial release. Plan ahead, hedge your bets. Either it flops but it could've been amazing or you sail with nowhere to go but under.

There was no way a show like AVATAR with such a HUGE cult following wasn't going to find themselves getting AT LEAST a second season. And y'all fucking blew it by rushing season one and having her fight a LITERAL GOD season 2. What.

I know y'all weren't given much. I genuinely don't care. You decapitated characters, plots, a whole world that could have been amazing. That could have been EVERYTHING. THE MAIN CHARACTER IS A HOT AF BI POC GIRL WITH INCREDIBLE CHARACTERIZATION. SHE’S SO COOL AND SHE HAS SO MUCH POTENTIAL. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Y'all messed this up??? HOW???

Y'all could've had everything. You were already betting on nothing. Why not make it count?

[calummss]

1920s LOVE | KLAUS MIKAELSON

masterlist : part 2

summary: your cousins, the salvatore brothers, tell you to go straight home after school. an evil vampire has come to town and it’s too dangerous; so what happens when the original vampire appears in your house unannounced

pairing: fem! reader x klaus mikaelson

words: 1.9k

a/n: my first tvd imagine for literally the man i love the most. this fic has similarities to @frost-queen ‘s work as i requested the imagine to her before i started writing but i wanted to write it myself. so before you come at me she already knows as i asked her first!! :)

‘After that we miss our chance to make memories.’ You chimed with Bonnie and Elena, all of you smiling as the cool breeze filtered through your hair.

‘Caroline, I’m not that type of person and you know that!’ A giggle escaped your lips, your hands reaching for hers. ‘Besides, I promised Stefan that I’d go straight home after school.’

‘What even is he to you?’ Caroline pulled her most Caroline face ever.

‘Well he feels like my cousin, but technically he’s probably my great x1000 cousin or something. All I know is that I’m a Salvatore and that connects us.’

Caroline pondered for a moment, letting go of your hands and bracing herself. ‘Fine.’

You let out a breath.

‘But,’

You sighed.

‘You have to actually show up to the dance and not just for five minutes before disappearing with Jeremy to never be seen again.’

‘Fine.’ You threw your hands up in the air and walked away from the group. ‘I can’t wait Caroline! I’m going to have so much fun.’ You made fun of yourself, earning chuckles from the girls before they parted ways too.

Stefan, even though your cousin from hundreds of generations ago, acted like your big brother despite being your age (one could argue about that). Stefan and Damon felt more like brothers and that’s what you always referred to them as. Since you started living at the Boarding house and got told the type of lifestyle the brothers lived, they always made sure you were safe. You were truly grateful for that. Having someone actually care about your well-being and not just yell at you to bring food to the table even though you were only nine years old…it was family. But Stefan and Damon could be pushy when it did come to your safety. Especially since that really old vampire came to town and terrorised Mystic Falls’ supernatural citizens. Since you were a human; a human that knew of vampires and was friends with them so they didn’t want to take any chances. So like any other girl with overprotective brothers, you had no other choice but to go home.

You took your time walking back. The sounds of leaves rustling on the pavement. Red-orangey leaves tumbling across the cement. Whistling of the winds as it bolted through the trees.

You felt at peace. Peace you had longed for for a long time.

Arriving at the enormous house , you unlocked the door and threw your school bag next to the shoe rack, slumping your way down the hall, but someone caught your eye.

‘And you are?’ You asked the man whose eyes were glued onto you as you walked down the steps that led to the living room.

‘You don’t know me, love?’ The stranger cocked his head with a sneaky grin on his face.

‘No, otherwise I wouldn’t ask, dumbass.’

The man chuckled, slowly standing up and stepping forwards, ‘I’m Klaus Mikaelson, I think you might’ve heard of me.’

‘That scary old hybrid?’ You gasped, mouth wide open with a weird expression of positive surprise; but you weren't afraid.

‘In the flesh.’ He lifted his arms to his side, palms facing upwards like he stood in front of a civilisation that ought him to be a god.

‘No offence but I thought Klaus was some creepy old man…you're surprisingly hot.’ You confessed, ignoring the fact that you never spoke so directly to a stranger. ‘Well, I don’t know why you're here and I don’t think I care. I made food before I went to school so it should be done by now, do you want some?’ You walked past him, mumbling quietly, knowing he could hear you, and entered the kitchen where your tart from this morning stood.

‘How do I know that you won’t kill me?’ Klaus replied.

‘Well first, I actually don’t know how to kill you,’ you lifted your thumb and started to count the reasons. ‘I would be extremely dumb to even try and I really just want to know if my food tastes good.’

‘So not all the Salvatores are as dumb as the brothers.’ He relaxed his weight into one of the kitchen stools and eyed you up and down, scanning for something.

‘Is that a compliment or are you badmouthing me with mirroring words?’

‘I take that back.’

‘Arsehole.’ You scoffed and walked around the kitchen aisle to grab a plate from one of the cupboards.

‘So what exactly am I looking at,’ Klaus eyes the ceramic pan that you had set out on the island moments before, ‘it looks nice.’

‘It’s a strawberry tart with a layer of condensed whipped cream and a layer of red bean,’ you started to plate the first portion, ‘and before you start with ‘Red bean? oh my god that’s sooooo weird’, it’s a sweet type. Very popular in east Asia. It’s really good.’ You smiled at him and pushed a fork towards him. ‘I could never make something not tasty because I’m a good chef.’

Klaus chuckled, the corner of his mouth turning into a slight smile, yet his eyes were just as cold. Grabbing the fork you had placed before him, he took a piece with equal amounts of ingredients and placed it in his mouth.

You eyed him for a long second. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t frowning. He wasn’t doing anything. Klaus’ face was blank as the test sheet you had given Mr. Saltzman this morning in first period.

‘So?,’ your eyes still on his face, ‘is it good?’ you leaned in closer, eyes narrowing with a smile. You clicked with your tongue, index finger pointing at the so-called monster in joy, ‘Of course it is!’

Instead of answering your question, Klaus simply took another hit confirming the good taste.

‘I knew it!’ You drummed against the kitchen aisle, ‘Miss Salvatore could never fuck up a dish.’ Amused, you finally gave yourself a piece and enjoyed your tart. ‘So,’ you covered your mouth with your hand, ‘you’re a 1000 year old vampire that everyone’s scared of…why?’

‘I guess it’s because I’m an Original,’ he leaned forward, close enough to smell your scent, ‘Can I have another?’ He eyed the pan.

You nodded.

‘An original vampire,’ you nodded your head cooly. ‘That’s cool. But what brings you here? I doubt you’re vacationing in Mystic Falls. Anyone willing to do that must be boring and have no expectations,’

Klaus snickered in response, his intimidating yet charming eyes felt like they were pushing past your eyes. ‘I need something.’ He confessed.

‘What?’

‘Can’t tell you.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ll tell your brothers.’ He ate the last piece of tart on his plate and leaned against the counter.

‘They’re more like my cousins,’ you grabbed his plate and set it in the skink, starting to clear things away. ‘Million times removed.’

‘You’re human?’ His tone changed but you couldn’t quite make it out. Did you suddenly fall into his power-play-game?

You hummed in response, turning back to him and sitting down on one of the barstools.

‘Do you like it?’ He asked, some sort of genuineness coating his words.

You hesitated for a second. No one had ever asked you before if you preferred the life you were living. Not even Damon asked you and he was the first to be in favour of turning humans for fun.

‘Sometimes I guess, but the thrill of wanting to be a vampire is overbearing at times.’ You took a sip of water, ‘Stefan and Damon said they’d only ever turn me if there was no other option.’ You took a long pause. ’I feel vulnerable as a human and a spark of confidence couldn’t hurt me, right?’

Klaus turned his head forward, chuckling. ‘I think you already have that spark of confidence you’re talking about, love.’

‘Can I ask you a question? Technically it’s two but,’

‘Go ahead, darling.’

Darling—…Stop.

‘Since you’re a thousand years old,’ you turned your body to him, ‘what’s your favourite decade or era you lived in? Like the Victorian era, Tudor age, all that…what’s your most favourite?’

Klaus lingered a smile, seeming almost smitten with your curiosity and sensing a passion for the past.

‘Maybe the 1920s,’ Klaus said, your eyes instantly lighting up. ‘The music, the people, the aura…it was a great time.’

‘I’m jealous,’ your face fell to a pout, swinging the last drop of water down your throat and reaching for the jug to refill your glass. ‘I wish I experienced the twenties,’

‘I think you would’ve loved the 1920s London party scene.’

‘And do you miss it? The past, I mean. Or do you prefer the modern world? I mean certain aspects are obviously for the better but it must be lonely when everything and everyone you knew ceased to exist…I think I’d become lonely.’

‘I have my family.’

‘But humans,’ you cleared your throat, ‘Vampires,’ you corrected yourself. ‘Nonetheless need different people around them. Otherwise we’d go mad.’

‘I’m already mad.’

‘I heard.’ You let out a suppressed laugh. ‘Well anyway, there’s a 1920s decade dance next week and I don’t know if I’ll go. Apparently Mystic Falls is becoming dangerous for humans and I should only go out if completely necessary.’ Shrugging your shoulders, you got up from your chair when the front door suddenly opened and in a matter of seconds Stefan and Danon were standing in the kitchen.

Damon immediately seized your upper arm with force, pulling you closer to him. He scanned your face, then your torso, arms, legs, to see if Klaus had hurt you or compelled you but he didn’t find a single scratch.

‘What?’ Klaus finally stood up and eyes the brothers up and down. ‘You think I’d harm such excellent company?’

‘What did you do?’ Stefan chimed him defensively.

You broke from Damon’s grib and walked to the other side of the kitchen aisle so that you were now between the men. ‘He didn’t do anything. We ate cake and talked. That’s it.’

Stefan eyed you for a while, but he could tell you weren’t lying and there was no reason for you to cover for him so he accepted the scene in front of him.

‘We have what you want, Klaus,’ Damon hissed, ‘but not here. Leave her out of this.’

Klaus turned his head to look at you. ‘Fine,’ now facing back at Damon. ‘but don’t fuck me over again or I will make this living hell for you.’

Stefan pushed forward, ‘We’ll talk outside.’

Klaus followed Damon, Stefan behind him and turned around one last time leaving you a tad puzzled, ‘It was nice to meet you, love.’

‘You too.’

*1 week later*

Ding ding, Doorbell.

Ugh, you rolled off the couch and stomped towards the door.

‘Caroline I said I’m not going. I can’t be arsed and—oh my god.’ You swung the door open not to reveal the blonde girl that had been nagging at you all week.

Instead it was him. Klaus Mikaelson.

‘I— Ehm— What are you doing here?’

‘I’m here to take you to the 1920s, love.’

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Make It Better || b.b & s.r

Steve Rogers x fem!reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When you get hurt training your men take care of you. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mmf threesome, thruple, vaginal sex, anal sex, breeding kink, mentions of blood, dirty talk from Bucky WC: 1920

"Stop playing around,” Bucky growled as you failed to take his training lesson seriously.

It wasn't your fault, knife throwing was something you already excelled at and standing in front of a rubber dummy for an hour tossing daggers at it bored you. You had soon started to sing heads, shoulders, knees and toes as you aimed at each part rather than just taking the heart shots that you were supposed to be doing.

"I don't need to train,” you complained as you juggled the three remaining daggers.

"Everyone needs to train." Steve appeared behind you, startling you.

A dagger slipped past your frozen hand and nicked the skin as it fell and a hiss escaped your lips as large hands gripped your waist. Steve managed to pull you back before the dagger lodged deep in the wooden floor where your foot was. Bucky shook his head as he pulled the knife out of the floor and tucked it back into the specialised pocket in his pants, a look of ‘I told you so’ written all over his face.

"She's bleeding,” he said to Steve who still hadn't dropped his hold from your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your hips.

"Let's get you home and patched up," Steve said as he pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around your forearm.

"I'll be there in a minute," Bucky called after you as he closed up the gym for the night.

You didn't live far from the Avengers home base, opting for a home in rural upstate New York as opposed to a room at the compound. It was far easier to maintain your relationship when there was privacy and the space to be yourself. Even just crossing the boundary of the compound changed something in your super soldiers and Steve reached over the console to take your hand in his. It was the small touches you missed whenever you were at work, his need to appear professional meaning he rarely indulged in any form of PDA.

You missed the warmth of his hand when he parked the car, then he was already out of the car and at your door by the time you had taken your seatbelt off. The timed lights had already turned on for the night and your home looked welcoming as you walked the steps with Steve, his fingers flicking through his keyring and quickly finding the key to unlock the door. You took your time kicking your shoes off while Steve punched in the security code and disappeared into the family bathroom, cupboards banging as he fetched the first aid kit.

You were about to close the door when you heard the faint rumble of Bucky's motorcycle echoing down the long driveway and you could tell he was speeding from how fast the sound was increasing. The weather hadn't turned just yet so the air was still mildly warm, warm enough to leave the front door open for him, so you made your way to where Steve had dropped the first aid kit on the kitchen table and he pointed to your seat.

"It's just a scratch, babe,” you dismissed his worry as you pulled his shirt away. "Oh."

It must have been deeper than you thought as his shirt was ruined and the cut still hadn't clotted yet. Bucky had just stepped in at that point and rushed forward at the sight, grabbing your good arm and wrapping his other around your waist so he could rush you across to the kitchen. He dropped into your seat and pulled you across his lap with your arm laid out on the table for Steve to examine.

"You'll need a few stitches, Y/N,” Steve said with an apologetic smile.

"And no more juggling knives,” Bucky added.

"I got distracted." Your neck heated just thinking about Steve's deep voice and how it resonated on your bones. "It happens when I'm with the two of you."

You wriggled on Bucky’s lap at the mere thought and felt him growing hard beneath you. Your breathing hitched as his hand gripped your hips to keep you still, but you needed friction.

“Bucky, let her go, she’s going to need a distraction,” Steve said, preparing the needle and thread as he watched his best friend's eyes darkening with desire. “Give her something else to think about.”

Bucky’s grip loosened and you rolled your hips, earning a soft moan. “I’ll give her something to think about alright.”

Anticipation clenched your core as he stood you up just long enough to push his pants down over his hips and free himself while Steve hooked his fingers in your leggings and pulled them off in one go. Bucky wasted no time in pulling you back on his lap, burying his cock in you without warning and filling you to capacity as you stretched to fit him.

“Where’s your manners, jerk?” Steve asked him with a shake of his head. “You alright baby girl?”

“Mhmm…” you moaned as Bucky pulled your legs apart, fingers teasing your clit with slow circles.

“Of course she's alright, her tight cunt is absolutely stuffed, listen to how wet she is Steve.”

You didn’t need to have serum enhanced hearing to hear the sloppy sounds coming from the work Bucky’s fingers were doing, stealing the leaking drips from your pussy lips to glide over your bundle of nerves. He hadn’t even started moving his hips yet you were a sopping mess for him.

“Just try to keep still,” Steve said as he took hold of your arm and pressed the needle to the cut.

“Hear that, doll, be a good girl and don’t move.”

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaked across your chest, pinning your back to his chest and keeping you still as his finger flicked across your clit. If it wasn’t for his arm holding you down you would have jerked at the shock his touch sent up your spine and he chuckled low in your ear. Your pulse raced in your neck as he grazed his teeth over the rapidly pounding spot and it was almost enough to forget what Steve was doing, until the sharp bite of the needle arched your back and Bucky pushed his cock deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you hissed as your arm began to burn and Bucky’s fingers worked harder to pull your mind away from the pain.

“Focus on me,” he ordered. “Feel how my cock stretches your cunt, how my fingers make you come undone around me.”

Your head was swimming as he nipped at your skin and you barely felt the next two stitches, too invested in the edge of bliss Bucky was leading you towards. You were so close but every time you almost reached absolution he would stop, the fluttering of your walls fading away and a new hunger for release filling you. Steve tied off the last stitch and barely managed to get the bandage on before you were reaching across for him, hands working to release his belt and free his cock for you. His hands caught yours with a shake of his head before he pulled you off Bucky’s lap. You instantly missed the full feeling as his cock slipped out.

“Hey!” he complained with a frown, replacing his hand where your pussy had been and gliding his palm along his slick shaft. “I was enjoying that.”

“You gotta share,” Steve shot back, already halfway to your bedroom and ready to throw you down on the California King bed.

Bucky had caught up in an instant, pushing Steve off you where he had covered your body with his and you pouted as his lips disappeared from yours.

“Go on, doll, ride the Captain’s cock for me. Let me see him stretch you.”

You did as Bucky ordered and climbed over Steve’s body, straddling his hips and humming as you sunk down his long hard length. Your hands were planted on his broad chest and you loved the feeling of his pecs under your palms as you rolled your hips. A sigh of contentment filled the air as you finally got the friction you had been needing all evening and the sound was echoed by both of your men watching your breasts bounce in time.

“Doesn’t she look perfect?” Bucky asked as he gripped his cock harder and stroked it in time with you. “Gonna look so good when we put a baby in you.”

His words we like lightning sent straight to your core and Steve growled as he felt your pussy grip him tight. Bucky knew you were close after his edging and didn’t want to miss out on the feeling of your body trembling between your lovers. The bed dipped as he shifted behind you, straddingly Steve’s thighs and pushing you forward and into Steve’s embrace.

“Good girl, gonna take both our cocks,” he purred as he pushed his fingers into your pussy that was already stuffed full of Steve and slicked his fingers up before rubbing it over your ass. “Stuff both your holes so good.”

“God, yes…” you moaned as you felt him pressing against your ass, the muscle giving way to his little thrusts before his head pushed through and you cried out at the stretch. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Bucky’s teeth grazed your shoulder as he inched himself deeper and deeper while Steve’s tongue lashed across your lips that parted for him. No one moved as Bucky’s hips met yours and there was no place that wasn’t filled by them. You couldn’t tell where one body began and ended, you were all one writhing hot mess.

“Please, fuck me,” you begged as you tried to move but couldn’t from how they had you pinned.

“Hear that, Stevie, she’s begging for our cocks.”

“We should give the lady what she wants.”

You cried out as they suddenly began to move, the smooth synchronisation than came with practice, and you felt their cocks brushing against each other through the thin wall that separated them. It was everything you needed and more as your stomach knotted and your legs trembled, release only moments away.

“Make sure you fill our girl up real good,” Bucky growled as he fought his own release until you came first. “Make her leak our cum for days.”

“Shit…” Steve groaned as Bucky’s words affected him as much as they did you and you came around their cocks, milking them both as they joined you with your release. You collapsed against Steve’s chest, listening to his heart pounding against you, and Bucky collapsed against your back to press delicate kisses across your shoulder. It still amazed you how he could go from being so dirty one moment to sweet the next but you loved both sides of him. You loved every side of both of them.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby girl,” Steve said as he slipped out of you, the mixture of your arousal running down your thighs.

Bucky eased himself out and you could almost cry at the emptiness they left behind. Their strong hands helped you climb off the bed and Bucky went into the ensuite, running a bath in the large spa before helping you settle in between them. Steve grabbed the wash cloth from the side and you sighed appreciatively as he washed your body, careful of your sore arm.

“I love you,” you murmured drowsily as their hands kept you afloat amongst the bubbles.

“Love you, doll.”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

[artbyblastweave]

So the division betweencivilian and Superhero identity has been a thing since the genre was just getting started with Superman. Do you have any thoughts on how Worm handles secret identities?

So many. Gonna start high level on this one and narrow it down.

From the 1920s to... probably the mid-70s, there was this implicit bargain with secret identities; the logistics were simpler. You could keep a secret identity with relative ease, the most likely failure points were those closest to you, and that’s manageable. But! You would keep a secret identity in the first place because if they found you, your life was fucked. There is no game being played; there were no pretenses. If they catch you, they will kill you- but first they must catch you.

The implicit consequences for being unmasked, while rarely realized, were genuinely very, very bad! Batman was fighting mobsters who would very much kill him, if they figured it out! Spider-Man concealed his identity because his villains made a beeline for his loved ones any time they figured it out. Cape IDs were genuine secrets, and because this was pre-mass surveillance, pre-internet, pre-media fragmentation, in the era where it was still hypothetically possible for people to up and vanish in the night, or become nameless drifters with no footprint, when millions of people were being shuffled around the country by wars and great migrations and the G.I Bill and a rise in college attendance, it was fairly plausible that secret identities were, in the abstract, genuinely hard to figure out.

This isn’t true anymore. In the modern day, with smartphones, home video, TMZ and the churning cesspit of online forums, in a setting laden with psychics and supercomputers and amazing detectives, it’s harder and harder to justify the secret identities not being blown open. At Marvel, many writers have said “fuck it” and had the heroes go public. Superman, Batman, Spider-Man and others have maintained them (mostly) because it’s just so core to the character dynamics that they can’t ditch them.

So what’s happened, quietly, is that writers and fans have started to pay mind to the realpolitik of blowing up a superheroes civilian life, at DC in particular, and why most rational actors won’t do that. The Central City Rogues, at times, have learned Flash’s secret identity, and vice versa, but The Rogues don’t act on it because they know they can’t survive a Flash with nothing to lose, and anyway, they actually do want him around to beat back the potentially city-leveling threats. Many of Batman’s rogues have figured out he’s Bruce Wayne, but sit on the information because they want the game to keep going, or because they recognize that Batman is a known variable and a good way to make sure none of the other villains get a leg up. The end of JMS’s Amazing Spider-Man featured Kingpin nearly killing Aunt May, and in retaliation Spider-Man makes a big show of taking off the kid gloves and just pulls Kingpin nearly apart in front of witnesses, as a show of the kind of force he could always have been potentially bringing to bear if he didn’t have a civilian life holding him back. This extends to Indie Media too; Invincible and Astro City both acknowledge that if you live near a hero, you’re likely gonna notice pretty quickly, but most people are smart enough or nice enough not to do anything destructive with that info. Incorruptable is about a supervillain who rationalizes his supervillainy under the logic that Not!Superman was never gonna let anything too bad happen to anyone, he always win when it counts, and when said hero turns evil he decides he has to step up to protect people because the safety net is out the door.

More and more often, the sanctity of the secret identity is something acknowledged as a pretense; something that society at large allows for, something there’s a gentleman’s agreement not to poke too hard at. 

So now we get to Worm, which codifies this at a high level. No network of individually-developed working relationships where tons and tons of people independently decide to pretend not to know who the hero really is; it’s an actual cultural thing, an unwritten rule that you do not go after people in their civvie lives, you do not try and figure their IDs out, and you absolutely do not get caught if you do try. There is a powerful AI that helps enforce this, a powerful government apparatus that helps enforce this, a well-developed set of nettiquite enforcing this, an underground conspiracy that’ll absolutely drop the hammer on anyone trying to systemically challenge this.

But what really makes Worm Unique in this regard is that this also applies to the villains.

 Villains, don’t have secret identities in most superhero universes; when they get caught the first time, their IDs are out, they’re introduced by both their real names and villain names on the news, and it’s noteworthy when a long-haul villain like The Joker manages to completely avoid having their real name publicized. The best they get, day to day, is not being recognized out of costume, but that’s thin. In Worm, villain identities are subject to a level of respect alien to other settings, and it’s for purely pragmatic reasons; the book shows us again and again how utterly fucked you are if you back a villain into a corner and give them no way out. E88 getting doxxed leads to dozens of city blocks being leveled with untold casualties; Skitter goes full populist warlord when she’s outed and kills some high-profile PRT jackboots; Bakuda’s madness is driven at least in part by her very real need to establish herself as someone who is not to be fucked with because she has no civilian life to return to and nothing to her name except what she can quickly cement in her new and only identity; Shatterbird committed to being a mass murderer because her civillian life was annihilated during her “trigger” and she saw no viable path to deescalate.

Cape comics are focused on the heroes, and so they spend a lot of time focused on the carrots and the sticks the heroes can bring to bear, how the heroes can protect their own status quo, how the villains are reacting to what the heroes might do if placed up against the wall.  Worm is concerned with the carrots and sticks held by the black hats. In another setting, the silliness of a guy who dresses up to rob banks would be highlighted as an act of small-mindedness, it’d be a bit about how dumb villains are to waste their time like this. But in Worm, costumed villainy is simultaneously a gesture of courtesy, and a veiled threat, because this is not the worst they could be behaving.

[fficway]

Distracting Dancing Donnie

Synopsis: You need a dance partner for an assignment, and your pride won't allow you to ask Donnie.

ROTTMNT Donnie x Reader insert. (No gender specified). Reader is either in high school and friends with the current turtles, or in college and friends with aged-up turtles, whichever is closer to your age/preference.

[This has all the fluff. A personal friend requested a one shot so I wrote this. I personally thought it was a little too cheesy or that I lost the characters' personalities somewhere along the line, but the friend who requested it loved it so I decided to share! I proofread it but I know there are still grammar mistakes. Also copying and pasting to Tumblr made me lose some of my typographical emphasis, so I did my best to fix it.]

In all the years you've known the turtles, you've never messed up so badly.

You've never hurt or betrayed any of them. Especially not to the extent that you've done today.

"How could you choose Señor Hueso as your dance partner over me?!" Donnie is whom you've betrayed on this historical day.

You had never let your grades slip in any of your classes, not even in the midst of pizza parties with the turtles or infiltrating The Foot with April. However in recent months you've become somewhat distracted.

Ok, more than somewhat. You had always had an affinity for the tech-wiz turtle, just an infatuation if you will. You thought it was something that would come to pass over time, just a small, childish crush. Until the years passed by and you've gotten that much closer with the turtles. Being with them through thick and thin, helping to bandage their injuries, cheering them on whether it be in a fight against mutants, or competition amongst themselves.

You've seen them laugh, you've seen them cry, you've seen them hurt, hell, you've even seen them sick with the rat flu (which you got 4 new gifts from thanks to the seventh "Must Say Yes" stage!) And what you thought to be a little crush did not fade. In fact, with every rescue Donatello had accomplished, saving you in the knick of time, every scwabble he took your side on, every invention he explained to you with that excited fire in his eyes, you found yourself incredibly distracted by your growing feelings for him.

Distracted enough that your history grade had slipped. Hence, where you are today. Your teacher was assigning a "historical dances around the world" assignment with a contest, the winner receiving extra credit, and you were given Salsa as your assigned dance. Writing a report to go with it is the easy part. Dancing it is an entirely different story. So you decided to go with who Leo describes as an expert: Señor Hueso.

"Donnie, if it were an 80's dance like Disco or The Robot, of course I'd have asked you. But my grade is on the line here and I need an expert!" You told him a half-truth. As much as you'd want to, you don't think you could ever bring yourself to ask Donnie to dance with you. You've seen him dance! You'd just get distracted again and short circuit right there on the dance floor! You want your grade to go up, not down!

"Actually Disco dancing was created in the 1960's, and whereas the Robot was popularized in the 60's as well, it's origins date back as early as the 1920's-" He was already on a roll, adding in a few dance poses as he elaborated.

"Donnie, look, I'm sorry but I'm trying to win, and Señor Hueso was nice enough to agree to help me. After some begging/convincing from Leo." You mumbled the last part to yourself.

"Scoff! You know as well as I do that you would not receive any award lower than first place with me! Failure is not in my vocabulary!" Donnie exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it's in your record" you mumbled to yourself.

"What! I don't have any failures on my record!" Donnie, who had apparently heard you, argued.

"What about the many L's you took in our shell games to moi?" Leo leaned his weight on his brother's head.

"I only recall besting you and taking your room from you." Donnie cockily brushed off Leo.

"And all the sports games we lost because of you?" Raph added from his seat on the couch.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, I don't even partake in sports ball." Donnie retorted with a couple flicks of his wrist, as if dusting off the allegation.

"And when you got us attacked by one of your many evil robots?" Mikey shouted from the skate ramp.

"That doesn't sound like me." He crossed his arms.

"And the many projects you failed to help me with?" April added showing the pictures on her phone of every one of Donnie's combustible experiments.

"That must be the work of a different, lesser genius mutant ninja turtle." Donnie crossed his arms.

You clicked the projector on where a video played of Donnie yelling "I can fix this!" repeatedly in multiple different clips where different inventions of his glitched, shut down, got destroyed, self-destructed, or turned evil.

"Hmm, does my shell armor really look that ingenious from the back?" He wondered with a hand under his chin and one eyebrow raised.

"Donnie!" April shouted.

"OK, I'll admit I may have forgotten a few data points. But I am still undefeated in my dancing! Which is why I feel betrayed that you of all people wouldn't pick me as your dance partner!" He turned back to you.

"Dee, I'm sorry but my mind is made up. I appreciate you wanting to help, but I've got too much at stake and need to take first place." You placed your hand on his shoulder as you explained.

"Et tu, Brute?" He quoted at you, hurt. He brushed off your hand as he turned and sulked stubbornly towards his lab. "Fine, but don't come crying to me when you realize that I was obviously the better choice!" He shouted back.

______________

You felt awful. You felt like you really had betrayed Donnie. It was just dancing, but you knew how much he liked to be relied on, especially outside of his technology. You felt like a kicked puppy.

"Ouch!" Especially your shin that had actually been kicked just now!

"Compañero, you need to keep up."

"Sorry Señor Hueso. I'm just a little... distracted." That word keeps correlating with Donnie and it really needs to cease.

"Well then, if you are too distracted to learn, then I suppose this lesson is over." Señor Hueso sighed as he turned to walk back into his kitchen. He had been kind enough to let you use his restaurant as a makeshift dancefloor during closed hours.

"Hold on there Bone Man!" Leo slid to put his arm around him, stopping his exit. "If teaching the dance steps isn't working, you could at least take this time to teach about the history of the dance for the written report?"

"Yes! Yes please! That would be a huge help, and I'll be sure to pay attention this time!" You gleamed with hopeful eyes, silently thanking Leo's quick thinking. You only had a week to prepare after all.

Señor Hueso sighed, "Fine, as long as you listen closely." He moved over to one of the tables so you all can sit as he began.

"The Salsa was developed by Puerto Ricans and Cubans living here in New York in the late 60s and early 70s. Different regions of Latin America and the United States have distinct salsa styles of their own such as Cuban, Puerto Rican, Colombian, and New York's very own style. I am well learned in all of these styles, but for your dance, I will be teaching you the New York style." He continued on with showing the movements distinct to each style and the differences they show even in the same moves, and you found yourself forcing yourself to take notes even though your mind is wandering to Donnie and how he may have been lighting up with that excitement he wears so well as he explains this same information. Your brain may be wandering but you had turned on a recorder before the lesson started so that you could practice the dance steps at home, and you were smart to leave it recording as Señor Hueso taught about the history of the Salsa.

"Wait, so its similar to the Tango in that it's an improv dance, but more upbeat and free spirited. So then why am I learning choreography? Wouldn't it be more authentic to follow your lead at the contest?" You asked.

"You were under the impression that I was going to be your dance partner at the contest? There seems to be a misunderstanding. I agreed to teach you for a day, not to risk being spotted in your world." He had a point, but the crushing reality hit you in the face like a brick.

"What?! A day? But I thought you were going to teach, practice, and then wear a disguise or something to be my partner for the contest? Leo said that when you combine with your brother you pass for human with skin and bone-"

"No! I would never involve my brother in any kind of plan that could get us exposed to the human world. Additionally I would not stoop so low as to ask my brother for a favor." Hueso muttered to himself, crossing his arms.

"I would!" You exclaimed, panicked. "Leo! Do something!"

"Hey, I've already gotten myself on server and dish washer duty just from asking him to teach you to dance! I say just find a different partner! What about Donnie? You already know that he wanted to be your dance partner, so convincing him will be a piece of cake!" Leo leaned on his sword casually.

"Ugh! But if I ask him now I'll never live it down!" You grumbled with your hands over your face.

"I agree, Donnie can be a sore winner" Leo mused with a deadpan expression. Being defeated by any of his siblings was annoying enough, but Donnie's cocky way of rubbing it in their faces was worse than Leo's.

Ok, so Donnie is not necessarily worse than Leo at being a sore winner, but to Leo he was.

"What about you Leo? You're here with me at the lesson! So you can learn the choreography with me!" You pleaded.

"Woah, as much as I'd love to rub it in Donnie's face that I was picked as a dance partner over him... Ok, scratch that, I'd love to rub it in Donnie's face that I was picked as a dance partner over him, I'm in!"

You fist pumped at Leo agreeing. It's ok! You can still do this! You have time, and Leo's not a bad dancer!

"While I hate being the bearer of bad news, isn't the contest on Friday? The same day that papino here is supposed to be my server for an important dinner being held here in my restaurant?" Hueso interrupted. Leo had agreed to serve at the restaurant for the entire week, and then end his service after helping Hueso serve for an important dinner reservation.

"Relax! It'll be fine! I'll just portal back and forth, help you serve your restaurant," Leo gestures to Hueso, "and help you to win your contest!" He gestures to you. 'And help to make Donnie jealous.' Leo added to himself.

You and Señor Hueso looked at each other unsure.

Eventually it was decided that since Leo had agreed to help serve at the Run of The Mill Pizza for the entire week, that you can practice his portalling back and forth during your dance practice and see if you can get the timing down.

______________

It was a disaster.

"That was a disaster!" Donnie laughed.

Leo and you had consistently topled over each other, stepping on each others feet as he popped in and out of the lair, sometimes with random dishes in hand, sometimes holding one of the restaurant's customers and spinning them instead of spinning you. Eventually you were sitting on the floor of the lair, rubbing your poor, abused feet as Donnie smugly looked down from the railing above.

"It was only our twelfth try! We still have plenty of time to improve!" You shouted up at him. You were mortified.

"Sure, if you subtract the seventeen attempts from yesterday, and the fourteen from the day before-" He started counting on his three fingers.

"Ok! But we almost had it that time! I had a fighting chance! Besides this is supposed to be an improv style dance in its origin so technically we're authentic!" You were spouting nonsense out of desperation. You knew it. And unfortunately for you, Donnie knew it. You had to look away from his smug and cocky grin he was giving you. It didn't help that he was so good looking with that look on his face. And it didn't help that he knew that too.

"Oh dear, if only there were someone proficient at dancing around that could take 'Nardo's place and help you to place first place at the contest. Oh wait, there is and you picked TWO other people over me!" Ugh, you hated when he has something over you to rub in your face like this.

"Look, Dee-"

"If you apologize now and, I don't know, beg maybe? I might agree to win that contest for you through the power of dance! You and I both know that you need the help." Donnie had his hand posed smugly by his face.

You hated when he had something to rub in your face, sure. But what you hated more was when he was a jerk about it too.

"'Beg?' 'Win it for me?' I'm not incompetent Donatello!" Ooh, you used his full name. Bad sign. "I don't need your help with this stupid dance contest. And frankly? I don't even want it!" You shouted up at him before turning away to gather your things. And here you were about to finally ask him as a last resort. Even with the risk that you'd mess it all up and somehow accidentally reveal to the turtle how badly you had fallen for him, you were desperate, and knew it was only logical to ask Donnie. But after the things he just said now, your pride wouldn't allow it.

"You only have a day before the contest! You’ll come crawling back to me! You'll see!" Donnie shouted after you as you left the lair. He sighed. He knew he messed up. He got full of himself with the notion that you'd maybe be desperate enough to finally ask him! He assumed that if he talked himself up enough and gave you the confidence of a definite win, that he could finally dance with you.

It was no secret that he loved to dance, especially when smitten with someone. Ever since he found himself wanting to ask you to dance with him every time music played in the background of a venue, after some kind of victory, or even when music played during a Jupiter Jim movie, he realised it was due to the growing feelings he had for you. He was not dense in his own feelings, he knew when he was attracted to someone. And he had fallen hard and fast for you years ago, and those feelings had not wavered.

It had hurt that when the opportunity for you to dance with someone came up you had not thought of him. What was worse, when your original partner had been a bust, you had picked his own brother over him, even after he had expressed his interest! (Ok, he expressed offense at not being chosen but in retrospect its the same thing!)

He sighed, slapping a hand over his face. He should apologize, and offer, or rather, ask you properly to dance with him for your contest instead. That's all he wanted was a chance to dance with you. Mixing two of his favorite things together is the ultimate dream. You already express a lot of interest in his tech. Letting him go into as much detail and as long a spiel as his heart desires, and even ask questions! The ultimate sign of interest in his scientific art!

He was just being greedy with wanting to dance with you too, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted you to himself. He wanted you to be as immersed in him as he is in you. He knew all of your favorite things and can even list them in alphabetical order! He knew your allergies and proofed the lair of every possible scenario that could come into contact with you, and even carried extra supplies in his first aid kits especially for you! He knew what makes you laugh, and which nicknames you enjoyed being called the most by him and each of his brothers (though he uses his nickname for you sparingly as he didn't want you to catch on to his knowledge of it).

But he did just overreact. It was probably for a reason that you didnt want to dance with him. Maybe this was a line you were drawing because you caught onto his feelings, and you were trying to distance yourself so you didnt have to hurt him with the rejection. He was spiraling now, thinking the worst when Leonardo popped back into the lair through a portal, laughing with a box of pizza in his hand.

"Hey, do we have that contest in the bag or what?" He smiled, looking around the lair but not finding you.

Donnie sighed as he yelled down to Leo that you already left.

"What? But we didnt even get to discuss how rad our preformance was today! Something must have come up." Leo wondered aloud with a shrug.

"Or, something must have driven them away. Sigh, why am I so bad at taking a hint?" Donnie complained.

"What are you talking about?" Leo asked, skating up to the second level to follow Donnie who was now going off towards his lab. He ate a slice of pizza from the box in his hand.

"Oh nothing. Just realizing that rejection tastes a lot worse than it sounds." Donnie mused aloud. He didn't want to go into detail to his brother, but he knew that if he didn't give an answer he'd never get any peace to sulk to himself.

"What, you were rejected? As a dance partner, or...?" Leo sounded hesitant and unsure but Donnie paid no mind.

"What does it matter? 'Tis but the same definition in my dictionary." Donnie confessed.

"Wait, are we talking about the same 'or?' Is this really happening?" Leo sounded excited, much to Donnie's disapproval. How insensitive to be excited at his brother's heartache.

Leo must have realized his brother's interpretation of his reaction and immediately added context. "Are you really finally admitting your feelings for Y/N? Is that what you're doing here? Did you confess earlier? I want the deets!" Leo sat across from Donnie excitedly. They had gone off track from going towards his lab and had ended up in the kitchen. Donnie needed rocky road to heal his rocky heart.

"Donnie confessed?!" Raph popped out from behind the refrigerator door and Mikey dropped the spoon he was using to stir ingredients together. He was cooking brustle sprouts. Leo put the box of pizza on the table and everyone grabbed a slice as they gathered around.

"No! I did not, exactly, confess anything as I have nothing to confess and you cannot prove otherwise because there is no proof!" Donnie was regretting his decision to go to the kitchen.

"Oh but you just said you being rejected as a dance partner and "or" were the same thing, so what is "or?" Leo smugly explained.

"Ugh! Does it matter? You're the dance partner, not me, and so I'm taking the hint and staying out of it! Now if you'll excuse me, I will be shutting myself inside my lab to work on FAB version 2.14 so that it's even more state of the art. If you need me, leave a message and I will get back to you at the next, convenient, never." Donnie left the kitchen without his ice cream or a goodbye, and the turtles looked around at each other.

"Wow, this dance partner thing really bothered him." Mikey said concerned.

"You know how soft his shell is. Especially for Y/N. We knew it would get to him, but I guess we didn't realize how badly it would hurt him." Raph said sadly.

"Relax you guys! It'll all work out!" Leo waved off their concerns with a smirk.

"Ok, what are you planning Leo?" Raph raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Leo insisted, although him stretching out the word made it less convincing. "On an unrelated note, I need your help at the Run of The Mill Pizza Friday!"

"But that's when the contest is! We were going to root on Y/N at the contest!" Mikey complained.

"Oh, so I guess you don't want a rematch at who's the better waiter that I so obviously won last time." Leo taunted Mikey.

"Oh, you're so on!" Mikey jumped up at the challenge and Raph caught him by the shell.

"Leo, what's up your sleeve?" Raph held Mikey in the air who swung his arms and legs around.

"Only this measuring tape." Leo pulled out a measuring tape seemingly out of nowhere and started holding it up to different parts of Raph's torso. "Say, don't you think you'd look fantastic in the waiter's tuxedo uniform?"

Raph blushed, "Well I have always wanted to try it on."

"Alright! That's what I'm talking about!" Leo hugged his brothers. Now that they were distracted and agreed to working with him at the restaurant Friday, that would leave you no more options to turn to than Donnie when he "accidentally" won't be able to make it on Friday. Leo was a great dancer. Not as great as Donnie (though he'll never admit it aloud), and he had become a master at teleportation. He wasn't as bad as he had made you believe him to be. He knew your and Donnie's ego's and feelings for each other would prevent you both from dancing together, so he set this plan up as soon as you had asked him if he knew anyone who could Salsa dance. Señor Hueso was in on it too, in fact. He never would have asked Leo to work at his restaurant again unless absolutely necessary. But Leo had insisted that he needed to work there as a part of his master plan.

It was all going to work out accordingly. You may not win the prize considering the last minute changes, but you and Donnie would at least have a chance to dance together. And if nothing else were to come out of this, at least he wouldn't owe you a favor anymore for covering for him when he broke Donnie's mini Donnie statue.

_____________

["So none of you are coming tonight?"] You asked, texting the group chat with April and the turtles.

April had started a new intern job at a new's station and couldn't get off to come and cheer you on. You wouldn't have asked her to anyway considering this was a job she had wanted for a while. But you appreciated her fist pump emojis she sent to cheer you on instead.

Raph and Mikey had apparently been needed to help Señor Hueso and Leon at the restaurant so that it would be easier for him to pop in and dance with you while they cover his absence. It made sense so you sent your thanks. Yesterday's final practice had gone somewhat ok, you thought? Maybe having Leo not portal in would make it finally go somewhat well.

Donnie had apparently been left to babysit Mayhem, which you tried to tell yourself was a good thing. You didn't need him to distract you yet again, however you couldn't help how low in your chest it felt like your heart had fallen that even he had bailed on cheering you on. You wanted him to cheer you on. You wanted him to watch you partake in a hobby that he loved so much, to feel more apart of his world and passions. Hell, what you really wanted was to dance with him. You should have sucked up your pride days ago and just asked him. With all the practicing surely you would have had time to get over your embarrassment of dancing so closely to him. You were such an idiot to let an opportunity like this slip away because of your dumb pride!

The teacher's opening speech cut off your thinking. She was announcing the scores from the reports of the essays you all had turned in that morning, as well as saying how many points you needed to win.

You had received a perfect score on your essay! However so did a few other students! It was going to be close! There were 3 judges with the old fashioned score paddles ranging from 0-10. If any of the other students got a perfect 10/10 from even one of the judges, it would be hard to beat with you and Leon's dancing!

You texted Leo nervously, ["We've got this, right?"] But your nerves only grew when he didn't text back during the first student's dance. You kept clicking your phone on and off, checking if you had gotten any missed messages. The student who went 7th had gotten scores 10, 7, and 9! You wanted to throw up at how it made your nerves worse! You texted Leo a few more times before texting Raph, and then Mikey, asking if Leo's phone had died, and that your turn was coming up in two songs. Nothing! You were in a full panick and sent to the group chat asking if anyone had heard from Leo.

["What do you mean? Is he not there yet?" -Donnie]

Ugh, you were mortified that Donnie of course would be the only one to respond.

["No! No 1 is responding! Idk how 2 reach him!"] You texted back. You hated abbreviating texts but this was an emergency and you were almost out of time as the next student's dance ended with a score of 10, 8, and 10! The next student's number was called. Your turn was after.

You kept clicking on and off your phone again but Donnie hasn't respond now either.

["Did U reach him?"] You wished for a miracle that Leo's portal would pop up in front of you. It didn't even matter if everyone saw, you were desperate. If you danced this alone, you were sure to fail! Maybe you could ask one of the other students?

The song came to an end. The teacher was about to call your number. You clicked your phone on again and felt dread spread through you at yet again seeing no response. You felt yourself crumble on the inside in disappointment. Even if you danced it alone, you didn't even feel like dancing at this point!

You didn't move when the teacher called your number. You fiddled with your fingers around the phone that was still in your hands but the screen was no longer lit. You deserved this for letting your grades slip in the first place. But to be stood up by your own friends, who you had fought battles with? It hurt. You put your phone away and started walking up to the teacher to lie and tell her that you didn't prepare a dance, or maybe even tell her that you had stage fright or something? Either way you had to tell her that you couldn't do it.

"Number 17? Where are you?" The teacher asked on the microphone looking around the dim ballroom.

You sighed. You were mortified. "Right-"

"Here!" You were pushed forward from behind into the spotlights of the dancefloor and turned to find Donatello in snazzy clothes that covered his turtle appearance as much as possible. Behind him Mayhem's tail wagging caught your eye before you looked back at him.

"Donnie, what are you doing here?" You whispered to him looking towards the teacher as she announced that youll be performing the Salsa.

"Leo couldn't make it." Donnie looked at you apologetically. He stopped himself from saying more as the intro to the song started. He held out his hand, "Would you give me the honor of being your dance partner?"

You blushed. You didn't have time to think before the dance was supposed to start so you only nodded with a smile before placing your hand in his with your other hand in the air and a hip popped in your first dance pose.

The lyrics of the song started and Donnie matched your dancing flawlessly. He had watched you and Leo practice enough to memorize the choreography that you knew and were comfortable with. But now he couldn’t help himself to let the music get to him. This opportunity to dance with you was just too good to be true, so he let the music take over and added some improvised spins into the dance.

To his surprise, you matched him flawlessly, and even were smiling and laughing like you were enjoying yourself! He couldnt believe it! He was actually dancing with you! And you were enjoying it! You spun him a few times and you both parted to Salsa in place before coming back together for more spins.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and you could feel your face on fire! Not only did he come to your rescue yet again, but you both still got to dance together! You couldn't believe it! Better than that, he was really good! Your fears were for nothing! Granted the rhythm in which he moved his hips was definitely distracting, but it felt so natural, so fun to dance with him! You'll definitely have to apologize to him after!

You were nearing the end of the song when it donned on you that you needed to score at least two 10s and a 9 to win, and the realization that you and Donnie had gotten lost in your own world while dancing suddenly made you nervous. Did this count as Salsa sancing still? Sure it's an improvisation dance but you had decided on choreography as the safest bet to insure you did it correctly, what if this was all for naught? What if you don't win and it causes Donnie to spiral and makes the situation between you worse?

Your nerves eventually won out as Donnie spins you inwards towards him. You found yourself falling backwards as you over-rotated, and dread filled you once more.

"Leg up!" Donnie's hushed voice was in your ear as his inner elbows scooped up under your arms and caught you in a dip. Your leg was already going up a bit during your fall so you took advantage of Donnie supporting your weight to kick your leg up high, making sure to point your toes so that it looks like all of this was on purpose, before he bounced you back on your feet and you spun back around to him. You finished the last quick step as he pulled you close and you both came to an abrupt stop right on time with the music.

Everyone was clapping and cheering around you as you and Donnie panted while still holding onto one another. Your face heated and you felt dizzy, whether from the spinning or from how close Donnie was to you, you were not sure. He glanced down at your lips before quickly backing off to your side and lifting one of your hands in the air. He looked at you expectantly to lead, and you smiled as you both bowed at the judges and your teacher.

He didn't let go of your hand as the judges reached for the scoring paddles, and you gave his hand a tight squeeze to ease your nerves. Your heart was pounding from the combination of the dance, the scoring, and from the intimacy of being so close to Donnie for this long.

The judges lifted their paddles. 10, 10, and 9.5! You squealed before you and Donnie hugged each other. He didn't know if you had hugged him or vice-versa, but he wasn't complaining. Although once you both realized your position you quickly separated and scurried off the dancefloor for the last few contestants to go. But Donnie noted that you hadn't let go of his hand yet.

Once you were off to a dimly lit corner of the room at the back of the crowd you were hugging Donnie again. Mayhem hopping up onto a water cooler beside you both.

"Donnie! You! I really can't believe you did this for me! You really saved me tonight, I don't know how I can thank you!"

"I could think of a few ideas." Donnie's blush went unseen in the dim light, and you were letting him go now, his hand included, much to his disappointment.

"Listen Donnie, I really owe you an apology. I... was honestly embarrassed to ask you to be my dance partner. You're such a good dancer, and I.. didn't think I could keep up." It's a half truth. You didn't think you could keep up because you assumed you'd be tripping over yourself being that close to him. Which did technically happen but he had saved your butt, both figuratively and literally.

"No! Stop no!" He waved his arms in front of him. He was so embarassed now at hearing your reasoning, he really felt like a jerk now at how he had acted. "I am the one who is in the wrong. I felt hurt at not being chosen to be your dance partner, and took it a little.. too personally if I am being honest." He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I.. overreacted, and behaved rather immaturely. Can you forgive me?"

To his pleasant surprise, you smiled at him and took his hands again. "For saving my butt tonight in all definitions of the phrase? Forgiven! Not only that, but if we win this because of you, I'll-"

"We will now be announcing the final scores!" The teacher's voice cut your conversation short. You just realized that you hadn't watched the scores for the final performances! What if someone got perfect 10s? You turned to watch nervously as your teacher introduced the judges and let them each give a little speech, postponing the results a little further.

Donnie had whispered to you a few times "You'll what? If we win, you'll what??" But you hadn't heard him. You squeezed his hand in yours absent-mindedly as your nerves got progressively more disoriented. Donnie's nerves rose at how you were still holding his hand. He was still elated at that he not only got to dance with you -the view of you laughing in joy as he spun you being a sight he would relive in his head (and in his tech as he records everything) for the rest of his life- but also due to the fact that you forgave him!

He heard who he assumed to be the teacher announce third place, who recieved 5 extra bonus points to their final grade, go to someone who had apparently performed a waltz.

Your hand squeezed his nervously as second place, the winner of 10 extra bonus points went to a student who had performed ballet. That was a fair choice, ballet was hard to learn in just a week after all and oh my gosh it was so hard for Donnie to focus when your hand fit so well in his! Was he sweating? He hoped he wasn't sweating!

"First place, winning a prize of 15 extra bonus points to the semester's final grade, goes to... number 17, who performed the Salsa!"

You hadn't heard passed your number being called before you jumped up and down.

"I won! Donnie! You-! Oh migosh, you-! Ahh come here!"

Your hands clamped over the sides of his face and pulled him towards your lips.

He didn't know how to react. He didn't have time to react, as the kiss was over in an instant, and you were already rushing back to the dancefloor to claim your certificate.

He stood there dumbfounded, feeling dizzy, smiling like a dum dum. That really just happened! You kissed him! In the same night that you danced with him! He couldn't believe it!

A portal opened up beside him with Leo popping in unnoticed by the rest of the students around. "Soooo, judging by your face and Y/N up there getting an award I assume the plan worked?"

"Plan?" Donnie snapped out of it as he rounded on his brother. "So this was apart of a plan of yours?"

Leo leaned on Donnie's shoulder, "Uh, yeah! And I'd say it was a success!"

Donnie felt himself boil at the thought of being played by Leo of all of his brothers, but as you bounced up to them he quickly thought that this is maybe the only time his brother having a hand in things turned out for the best.

"Leo! Where were you?! Actually, nevermind that! Thank you for not showing up! Donnie and I won!" You hooked your arms around Leo's neck in a hug, bouncing excitedly, and Donnie felt the boiling return.

"Yes, we did win, and you were saying something about if we won you'll...?" Donatello desperately tried to direct your attention back to his festering question. If nothing else, he wanted Leo gone and to have time with you to himself to ask you about that kiss! It was a matter of urgency!

Leo smirked, "So you won! Congrats! That calls for a celebration! Luckily everyone is back in the lair with some Run of The Mill Pizza ready for you!"

"Um, yeah ok, why don't you go ahead and tell everyone the good news while I take Y/N back after the event is over?" Donnie pushed Leo further away from you and out of your arm's reach.

"The event is over, Donnie." You laughed, "We can all head back together now!" In all honesty, you were too embarrassed at what you had just done.

You had moved without thinking earlier. You had been too engrossed in the moment and kissed Donnie without thinking about his feelings! He probably didnt like you that way! You were so thankful at seeing Leo there after recieving your reward so you didnt have to talk to Donnie about what you had just done. You weren't ready! You didn't want to tell him your feelings now! And apologizing would probably make it sound awful: "Hey, sorry I kissed you, that was an accident!" What if it hurt his pride, or he took it the wrong way? You didn't even know if he had liked it or not because you ran off before seeing his reaction. You wanted nothing more than to escape to the lair with everyone else and go back to how things were. You can tell him how you feel another time when you're ready!

"No, it isn't-" Donnie had tried to lie that the event was not over yet, but the students leaving the venue was hard to deny. Leon laughed as he opened a portal and pushed you inside it.

"See you and Mayhem there when you're ready to join us, Donnie." Leo winked at him to tease his brother before stepping through the portal after you.

Donnie didnt waste a second before opening his arms for Mayhem to teleport him to the lair after you both.

___________

You were excitedly telling everyone about the contest, exaggerating how Donnie showed up at the last minute before the music started. You stepped around the room trying to mimic some of the dance steps from earlier as you excitedly told them more about the dance and at how Donnie was a natural, and his improvised steps were amazing.

He had to admit, dancing with you? Amazing! You singing his praises to his siblings about dancing with you? Even better! He was so smug right now that Leo's one liner's weren't phasing him one bit. You were so animated while reliving the dance, it was like you were talking about your favorite TV show, and he was so in love with this animated and excited side of you. He could watch you all night.

"And then suddenly, I found myself living out my biggest fear! I had tripped and was falling to my doom!" You were so dramatic, it was adorable. He got up without anyone noticing.

"Oh no!" Raph gasped, his voice an octave higher than normal.

"Did you fall in the middle of the dance?" Mikey asked, fearfully.

You smirked, "No, Mikey, no I didn't!"

Mikey gasped.

"But how did you not fall?" Raph questioned. They were eating this up.

"I swooped in with the magic of rhythm!" Donnie slid into the scene behind you, and you took the cue to fall back as you had during your dance.

"'Leg up!' He had told me! He knew exactly how to save the day!" You posed with Donnie holding you from behind with your leg in the air like you had done before, but now you both held it as you rambled. Everyone applauded.

"And like a natural, you pulled it off perfectly!" Donnie added proudly, now bouncing you back up to your feet. You blushed at him for a moment before turning back around to finish the story to the others, leaving out the hand-holding and kiss, and proudly showing your certificate.

"Congratulations! We all know how hard you worked this week for this win! You deserve it!" April said to you from her spot on the couch. "I wish I had been there to cheer you on, but Leo made me promise to turn my phone off and let Donnie handle it."

"Dahh! April! Ix-nay on the an-play!" Leo whispered loudly across to April, his hands making an "x."

"I'm sorry, he did what?" You turned towards Leo even though your question was for April.

"Hahaha! I uh-" Leo chuckled nervously as Mikey chimed in.

"He had us turn off our phones too! And made sure we were busy far away from you in case you needed a back up partner!"

You started stalking towards Leonardo who was awkwardly getting up from the couch to sneak away.

"I knew the moment he wasn't responding to his phone that something was amiss. Getting me to agree to look after Mayhem made sense when you had texted the group chat that he was a no-show. It had only taken me a minute to get dressed and teleport to the venue, and to archive how good I looked in a quick few selfies which was why I was almost late." Donnie explained, keeping the last bit to himself.

"Leo." You started, "Surely you didn't stand me up, leaving me to have a full blown panic attack and almost quit the contest entirely, did you? You wouldn't do that to a friend, right?" Your smile could freeze hell.

"I just remembered that I have something to do, uh, anywhere but here!" Leon opened a portal, and as he stepped through you turned to the rest of the family in the lair.

"And surely all of you didn't go along with this plan knowingly? Right? You wouldn't ditch your friend in need?"

There was a pregnant pause before everyone besides you and Donnie were scrambling for the portal, with Raph shouting something about a mission they forgot about and to not wait up.

You sighed as the portal closed. "I'm happy with the outcome, but I have mixed feelings about being played like this."

Donnie walked up to you. "Yes, I concur that the event did end with the most preferable of outcomes." He said this simply, but with the awkward habit he had of scratching his head when embarrassed you flushed at the possibility that he might be bringing up the kiss. Surely not!

You both looked at each other with a blush. No way, he can't seriously mean... he has to be talking about dancing with you! That's all!

"Yeah! Dancing with you was the best thing to happen! Your help winning the contest was just icing on the cake!" You smiled at him. This was honest. Winning of course was the goal, but the best part of tonight was getting to dance with Donnie and apologizing to him.

"That reminds me. You said that if you won thanks to my help you'd do something. What, uh, might that be that you were about to say earlier?" Donnie finally got a chance to bring it up again!

You blushed again and suddenly couldn't look him in the eye. "Um, well." Could you tell him that the kiss was what you were going to do? Would he take that as a thank you? Would it seem too conceited to think he would accept it? Is it too conceited to hope he'd liked it? You can't run anymore. (Literally, April took Mayhem with her!) So the best thing you can do is ask.

"What, uh, what would you like?"

At this Donnie covered his blush by putting his hand over his face as if thinking hard. He knew what he wanted! But would it be awkward to ask for another kiss? You had kissed him earlier so maybe there was a chance that you wanted to kiss him before a rush of dopamine from winning had taken over? No, but he can't hypothesize with only one data point! This seemed like a now or never moment, yet there were too many uncertainties! Too many questions!

That's it! He knew what to ask for.

"I want you to answer me honestly." He said looking you seriously in the eyes. You swallowed. You knew what he was going to ask before he asked, and you had wished he wouldn't.

"Why did you kiss me earlier?" Donnie asked carefully. He didnt want to seem too eager, but also didnt want to sound uninterested. He was trying to play it cool. Suave. Nonchalant. Luckily all of the sweat was pouring down the back of his neck and shell so you couldn't see it.

You hesitated, then eventually sighed, looking anywhere but his eyes. "Well I, I mean the obvious answer is that I kissed you because I was excited about the win, and since the win had had been because of you..."

"But..?" Donnie pushed. Saying that its the 'obvious answer' didn't mean that it was the only answer.

"But," you continued, finally looking back to him shyly, "I kissed you because... I wanted to kiss you. I really wanted to kiss you. I've wanted to for a while now and, tonight was just an excuse to do it." You carefully watched him as he raised a hand to his head.

"I.. Um, I mean. Wow, I'm short-circuiting." Donnie had a strange half-smile on his face. He was surely going to wake up from this dream any minute now! Tonight was beyond belief! He got to dance with you, got kissed by you, and now you're telling him that you've wanted to kiss him for a while?! That means you have feelings for him, right? That has to mean you do, obviously! Those two factors correlate! He found himself giggling a little to himself at how happy he was.

You on the other hand were so embarrassed that he had managed to squeeze a confession out of you tonight after all! You didnt want to do this! You were certain that reaction of his was positive, but this was all too embarrassing and you wanted nothing more than to escape.

"Ok, I answered your question! Thanks again for your help tonight! If you need me, I'll-"

"Oh no, you're not going anywhere!" Donnie grabbed ahold of your hand as you tried to slip away. You squealed as he spun you into him, and found yourself unable to hold back giggles as he dipped you low.

"I've wanted to do this for so long." He smirked down at you before leaning down and capturing your lips with his.

[iznsfw]

Any plans for Eunbi smut? Or Kkura? Or Hyewon?? Lots of love for iznsfw! ❤️❤️❤️

Mon Chef-D'oeuvre

IZ Days of Christmas: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

4235 words

Categories: biography-style fic, muse!Hyewon, haunted_artist!Reader, cunnilingus, cockwarming, riding

T/W: suicide, cancer/sickness, self-deprecating thoughts

The smut parts are quite short, but I was leaning on a more emotional side of the story, so I apologize if it is not fulfilling.

MASTERPIECE AND MADNESS: A LOOK INTO THE LIFE OF KANG SEUNGWOON, THE MOURNFUL ARTIST

Excerpts from page 99-102

[...] Grief was a major theme in Kang’s paintings. In Secret Story of the Swan (figure 5.5), created in 1916 hung in the Louvre in 1920, he takes a twist on the classic children’s story of The Ugly Duckling. He depicts the mother of the duckling as a rejected, brutalized victim at the hands of her husband. When asked about how he took the harsh criticism from the public for this controversial artwork by the Korea Times, he stated: “There is no right or wrong way to tell a story [...] it is fiction, it does not matter. All of life is a fictional construct. I say the world was simply not prepared for it.”

He presented this artwork in muted colors as he did not have formal materials until his graduation from the Iz School of Creative Art in November 1917. But it is safe to say the painting presented the emotions as much as any vibrant colors could, although it was met by praise and critical acclaim as late as the birth of the twenty-first century.

Another artwork of his in the category of grief is Winter Poem (see Figure 5.6), made shortly after his muse and wife, Kang Hyewon, passed.

Kang first met her at the university from which he took art and graduated at the top of the class. She was described as an “innocent girl with a pure face”. Quoted from Kang from his journals, which were released to the public in 2014: “She had the beauty of an angel. I think she really was an angel. I felt that I did not deserve her.”

-

You graduated at the top of your class, with honors and awards for everything you have ever painted in school. They hung your artworks around and gladly presented them to the wealthy visitors looking to enroll their children in there, as if to say, "This is what your child can make if you enter them in our school." They all saw you as the best painter in class, the one with instinctive and natural talent that comes to you as easily as the wind.

So, why are you so sad?

The joy of these moments have lost their effect on you. Maybe it is because you are growing up. As one grows up, things slowly lose meaning. Birthdays are not as exciting as they used to be, and even if the events were big things such as this: your graduation, not one smile paints itself on your sullen face.

Your mother once told you that all things were temporary. “Gifts, birthdays, parties…” she had listed out for you the examples thoughtfully. “They’re all temporary just like we are. So you have to enjoy them while you can.” But you cannot take her advice, and now, you feel as if you have disappointed her.

The tears drop despite your efforts to remain a stoic face. But what is done is done. All you have to do is to go home with your diploma in hand, and probably encase it with glass. It will be a good thing to add to your resume as well as the credentials you list when people commission you. If, and only if, there is a slim possibility anyone would want you to make them something. You have never been the best artist out there, although you have strived to be.

“Seungwoon-ah!” Turn to the direction you hear the yell from to meet the happy face of Choi Yena. She is one of your fellow honor graduates. Her smile is wide as she asks you, “Are you coming to the grad party tonight?”

Choi Yena is a social butterfly. She can make friends with simply the use of her smile, adding to the fact that she is so naturally cheerful. Nothing can get to her. Sometimes, you wish you were born in her shoes, to have the luxury to be so effortlessly happy.

“I’ll pass,” you tell her. She was kind enough to invite you, the weird outcast, but you will have to turn her offer down. You are not good at big events. You either stutter too much or remain without a plus one. You have learned over the years to save yourself from your own embarrassment. “Congratulations, though!”

“You, too!” Yena beams. The anxious part of your heart tells you that the beam is caused by the fact that you are not going. The rational part tells you, of course, the rational side to the story: Yena is a bubbly girl. She will smile at anything, even if you present her the ugliest thing in the world. But you decide to believe the former, anyway. You always do.

You go away from all of the crowds. They are becoming too much for you. Everyone is jumping and screaming as a famous singer takes the stage and sings a song everyone is obsessed over. You recognize the song but cannot remember its title, but you know it is something along the lines of “I’m gonna make it smile, smile, smile away.” Something like that. You would have liked to ponder over it more, but right now, all you want to do is go home. Probably heat a hot chocolate and read a book before sleeping. It’s getting late, anyway.

You turn the curve to go to the parking spaces. Everything is jammed; every brand of vehicle in existence is cramped in the small, ugly space your university reserves for events like these. All the money in the world from profiting off of the tuition fees and they still cannot invest in bigger hectares. How pathetic.

The richer kids own the Ferraris parked cleanly in the corner, while yours is an old truck your dad used to drive around. You yearn for a better car like those; yours is almost broken down due to the engine, and it isn’t exactly a pretty sight. But you mustn’t let your jealousy overtake you. It is a terrible habit not too many people recognize.

And that is when you see her.

You are rarely starstruck. Models come into your classrooms everyday as references for your art. A lot of them enter in the nude, except for underwear. However, none of them had an effect on you like she did.

She is the girl standing near your car, observing its structure and wheels. She is dressed casually, despite the occasion. A lit cigarette hangs from between her full, pink lips. Her arms form two curves near her hips’. And in that moment, you forget all about what you said negatively about love at first sight. You swear you haven’t felt so stupidly in love.

She takes art classes on the side in the summer. She comes there sometimes, and you see her paint dutifully, pencil tucked behind her ear, to produce a pretty artwork. She rarely laughs nor smiles, but when she does, every person in the room is captured by the neck, including you.

She is the most beautiful girl in the world. And she introduces herself to you as Kang Hyewon.

You knew you were done for when you saw that smirk.

-

Kang Hyewon was born in Busan and resided there until she was thirteen years old. From then on, she moved to Seoul and took art classes while pursuing photography at the same university Seungwoon graduated from. They met after his graduation, and began dating casually after two months. Historians doubt this, saying that Seungwoon was a shy man and would have taken longer to charm her, but the journals are concrete evidence that support the widely accepted timeline. They married on 4 July 1922, on Hyewon's twenty-third birthday.

She inspired Seungwoon’s decision to make his first attempt at photography. His first photos consisted of Hyewon herself. According to Dr. Lee’s book on Han Seungwoon and his muses over the years, he “did not see why Hyewon was the photographer rather than the model herself; she was very easy on the eyes.”

Some of Kang’s photographs of Hyewon are shown below:

Contemplation, 1919

A Snack to Go By, 1920

A Camera for the camera, 1922

Seungwoon was not only skilled in painting, but also mathematics, geometry, and science. So it was not long until he had been talented in the field of photography as well. While Hyewon taught him the rules and aspects of it, he gave her advice on her drawings. She inspired and modelled for his one of his last paintings of her: Taste. The story behind the title of the painting or the artwork itself is unknown.

-

She has been your muse from the moment you first saw her.

Of course, the first thing that can be attributed to her being your muse is her undeniable beauty. It is kind of ridiculous how pretty Kang Hyewon is. Her features are soft, yet full: doe eyes, paired with two full lips, and a perfectly shaped nose that can make her look like a lovingly-carved statue if you used your gray paint on her. She looks good in anything you request her to wear, anything she wears when she enters your studio with a new inquiry about art. Any photograph taken of her comes out prettily. She is just naturally photogenic, naturally beautiful.

She is also naturally kind. You are the moody one in the pair, always grumping about a new day without a cup of coffee to start it. But Hyewon… Hyewon is patient. You try not to be too much for her, with the amount of space your art and materials take and all, yet she always tells you it is okay. It is fine, she says, because she knows you more than anyone and loves you more than anyone. She knows exactly what to make you calm down after a disappointed commissioner, or a day where things are simply too gloomy for you to go on. And you truly do not want to say it out loud in fears of being ridiculed, but you cannot live without her. She is your solace, and if, by any cursed chance, she disappears from this world, you would join her. You would challenge death to return her to you and laugh in its skull face. You would do anything, just to be by her side forever.

You never exaggerate except in paintings. You would honestly do all things those things for Hyewon if needed. You are a blessed man for being able to have her take your last name as her own, live in the same home as her and have her as your muse.

"These are gorgeous," she says. Hyewon looked around your studio, observing the hues and the dues, the bright and the dull. A lot of your drafts have filled the room, and you are a little embarrassed to have your wife look at them.

"You are far more gorgeous than any of them. There is a reason why people like my paintings of you more."

"My husband is so charming," says Hyewon, throwing you a sweet smile. It is only semi-sarcastic, and it looks pretty with her clothes for this shoot. She is wearing your blue polo under a white vest, along with two gray socks that are almost thigh-high. Her visuals affect you a little too much today, but you try to ignore it. Focus on applying the curves of her face on your semi-finished canvas. You have added stripes of brown to show the strands of Hyewon's hair, and alternated between white and light blue to draw her polo.

"How can I not be when you look so..."

Go over Hyewon's whole look and you get even more worked up. Her hair is styled into two buns, while her thighs are generously shown by the skirt that folds around them. Her eyes are wide and curious as she waits for you to continue. But she knows what you are going to say anyway. She is not as innocent as she used to be, being your muse and all.

She spreads her legs a little wider. "Why don't you come and charm me even more?"

Your palette and brush drop to the ground. Suddenly, your arms around Hyewon and you are diligently kissing her. Her lips always taste of sweetness. You can never go without her.

Hyewon cannot go without you either. Her firm kisses and caresses all over the sides of your head and body just show that if you love her, she loves you more. She loves your artwork and your talent and the sleepy face you have as you get up in the morning. She loves your diligence and your kisses and the taut bulge that rubs against her core. She loves you, and after you put her on one of your sturdier desks, you are determined to show that your adoration for her is greater.

Which is why you are glad to tear the vest off of her. She looks hotter in the polo alone, yet you take that one off as well. Her bare, beautiful breasts are presented to you. The brush you pick up once the idea entered your mind dances along their soft mountains. Hyewon lets out a soft whimper. Her sensitivity is at a great height at which she is rendered helpless; she does not know what to do without moaning.

"God, I love you, Hyem," you say breathily.

"Sounds like you're talking to my tits rather than me," laughs Hyewon.

"Fine. I love you." Kiss her again and again. She giggles in between moans. Start from her forehead and end on her breasts. Lick a stripe on their nipples, and squeeze them happily in your hands. "I love you more than anything."

You mean it. You mean it with every pump of blood your heart creates, with every bit of your troubled soul.

Hyewon's thighs shudder as the brush tickles and caresses them. You run kisses along each trail your brush has swiped upon. But soon you are kissing something else, and Hyewon is reduced to moans.

The only clue at what you are doing is her underwear that you have thrown carelessly near the doorway.

"Oh my god, hon," whispers Hyewon, trying to keep a straight face. She raises her head out of view with her eyes closed and a firm bite on her lower lip. "You always eat me so well."

Hyewon loves being eaten out. It is such a divine experience for her. Every session is like the first, when she was particularly delicate and inexperienced. That is why the first suck already brings forth a rush of wetness and her thighs squirm on the sides of your head.

Hyewon remains a beauty, even in her unruly state. Her soft moans are like comforting tunes, motivating even. They coax you to take her harder—lap a teasing tongue up between her folds and wiggle it around, give smacks on her ass above the blue skirt, and suck the pretty nub with more diligence. Hyewon's legs never stop their quivering, and her fingers never stop trying to push you away and keep you licking her. The onslaught of stimulation has her breathless; how does it still feel so new and good?

You spread her legs far apart. Afterwards, stop the thrust of your tongue and go with offering sharp laps on her clitoris. It pulses with need, and so does Hyewon's heart, which beats so fast against her chest that she feels weak. But you are too good at this. She can do nothing but moan and let you fire blunt flicks at her erogenous zone.

"Hmnn... hah! Oh my god, baby!"

She herself is surprised by how early she came. But it is too late; your tongue is already delved deep inside her spasming core, catching the continuous leak of feminine orgasm. And it still feels so good. Sparks keep her on the edge of the desk and her toes curl tightly in response to her rough climax.

Continue the waves of your tongue while you keep her closely to your lips. You are determined to take advantage of the heightened sensitivity of her orgasm and make her feel even more good. You kiss her clit as if it were her own full lips. Give it open-mouthed smooches. By now, Hyewon's moans, which are usually soft and almost silent, have grown and spread inside the studio like a wildfire. Her hips are a force to be reckoned with, bucking against your mouth in search for more and pushing its center into your face. It is no problem for you; you are glad to give more.

You would give anything, in fact, just to see your wife's beautiful and blissful face.

-

Seungwoon took many photographs: of birds, nature, and sometimes his paintings. Many of these were formally released, yet the photos of his wife, although many, were not as abundantly shown to people. He took many pictures of her and kept a large amount for himself. He explained that he felt as if the public did not deserve to see "another side" of Hyewon. Hyewon also said that she would like to keep it that way.

His penultimate photograph of her that we know of is one wherein she reads her books to him. He entitled it A timely read [...]

-

Hyewon's thighs are snug in your lap, yet your cock rather explores in the hole in between them. Its pleasure tells and makes you bounce your own thigh up and down, creating a fulfilling process of her hole squeezing onto your shaft as you enter and exit.

Her fingers lose their assured squeeze on the book. "H-hah, you really aren't going to make this easy for me, are you?" she asks in between moans.

Shake your head; of course not. With her slick entrance ready for the taking, you have all day to plug yourself inside of her.

"Just keep reading, Hyewon-ah," you tell her, sweetly nibbling on her earlobe. She whimpers quietly, but does as you say.

Your thigh rises and falls to let your cock probe further inside her. Her tight, sweet body writhes with each bounce, yet she keeps on reading. She is your good girl, after all. Your muse.

But muses are not as desperate for you as she is. No muse drops to her knees and begs for "just one touch, please," say Hyewon with fearful eyes. "Just this time."

Her breast is fit for pearls /

Hyewon opens her mouth to read once more. However, your hand finds her breast before she can get a word out. From there, she can only make soft, whimpery sounds. Her chirps of pleasure are as pleasant as any songbirds. You love Hyewon's voice. She sings softly round the house, smiling giddily when you catch her, yet she claims that she is as never as good as Jo Yuri, the famous singer at the time. But that doesn't matter to you. You love Hyewon's voice.

Most of all, you love Hyewon.

But I was not a "Diver"— /

It does not matter anyway into her neck. Several counts of delicate cries leave her full lips. But Hyewon loves it. She loves being yours. She loves the way you make her feel, especially with the sword you unsheathe and sheathe again in the depths of her core, as if you are not certain if you should keep it inside or not. She likes it better inside her anyway.

Her brow is fit for pearls /

But I have not a crest.

Hyewon leans back in your shoulder. Kiss her beaded brow lovingly. She has stopped trying to read. It is a setup challenge anyway, designed to make her fail. What, with your cock's rainy adventures in between her wet folds, it was not a fair game from the beginning. But she is your loser, and because you love her, you would give her the prize anyway.

Your lips and Hyewon's collide. Hers are full and soft; there is a reason why you love it when she drops to her knees for you. Both carnal pleasures are hard to choose from, but you'd rather kiss her till you are out of breath than have her mouth somewhere else.

She hums a song of bliss, and you fashion yours with a grunt. Her thighs shake above your lap. Your fingers catch the release she makes. It floods on your hand; Hyewon blushes at your touch lingering on her vagina, and cums even more. It is a flood that you do not mind having assault you.

Because...

Her heart is fit for home /

Not one of your artworks can live up to her undeniable beauty. A studio full of the world's greatest paintings can easily be beaten by her. She is one created with duty and love—a soft yet intimate masterpiece, whose colors you make yourself comfortable in, even as she rests your head on your heart and closes her eyes.

I—a sparrow—build there

Sweet of twigs and twine

My perennial nest.

The little bird sleeps.

-

[...] while his last photograph of her is given the name The last stroll in the yards of life.

-

You do not want to live anymore.

It is as simple as that. Death is something that you would not refuse after the inevitable death she will have to take on. In fact, you welcome it. You urge it to come early despite your youthful age. You challenge it, even. You spit in the face of death and tell him to come get a piece of you.

Before you know it, you are crying again. Your tears blot what was supposed to be a masterpiece, making the colors drip down unpleasantly the canvas into one, big, rainbow mess. But your current state is a bigger mess than your artwork, and so is your life. Your wife will soon leave you, and just thinking about it makes you want to leave first.

If only you did not love her so much. If you didn't, it would not be this hard for the two of you.

"Oh, honey."

Her voice is as sweet as the nickname, but it does not pacify you. Not when you know the arms bound around your quivering form will soon melt away. Not when the scent from her hair and neck directly under your nose will leave along with her, only letting behind few sprays throughout rooms that will drive you crazy for days on end.

And she is so fucking pretty that it hurts.

"Hey," she tells you softly, with a smile that betrays the fear that she feels as well. Her brown sweater is beautiful; it matches the colors of the crops and grass around you. Hyewon truly looks like the love of your life. "It's okay. I'm still here. I haven't gone anywhere yet."

Yet. The word hangs in your mind like a noose. You want to take its rounded syllable ropes and execute yourself with them.

"You look so beautiful, Hyewon," you say, wrapping your arms around her like she does. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you, too."

You know you sound pathetic, but you go on with it anyway. There is little time left in the hourglass, and each grain of sand counts. "C-can you promise me something?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"P-promise me that you will try to hold on for as long as you can. I—I know it sounds selfish, and it is, but I can't see a life without you, Hyewon. I just can't. I truly think I'll die without you."

Hyewon's eyes are blurred with tears now, just like you. She hates knowing that she can do nothing about you feeling terrible about her dying. She hates knowing that you have felt this way from the moment you knew about her death.

She herself is still not ready for it. She does not know when she will be. Hyewon will always have to look over her shoulder in the afterlife, making sure that you do not follow.

"I promise," she says quietly. She closes her eyes, takes in a deep breath, and exhales through her nose. "I promise with all my heart."

-

Kang Hyewon died on December 23rd, 1924. She succumbed to cancer the night before Seungwoon's first exhibition. It can be deduced that Seungwoon called off his exhibition to mourn his wife and have time for himself. He did not set a date for the day on which the exhibition was supposedly postponed to.

After a week, he shot himself in his studio and died alone. In his suicide note, he asked that he be buried next to his wife and his paintings are formally taken by the university. In 1945, the university showcased his paintings—the famous, the lesser known, finished and unfinished—in one of its biggest exhibitions.

It is safe to say that Kang Seungwoon's artwork maintains its provision of inspiration to people today. People now talk about his paintings, love, and his tragic death as a source of reassurance and motivation. His famous quote still makes its rounds today: "There is no sculpture or painting that has lived up to the chef-d'oeuvre of true love."

[counterspelling]

Mulligan conceded that “this fight was not fair,” but the TPK was neither planned nor inevitable. Their main adversary was a gravely injured, near-undead Fairy Godmother with few hit points, accompanied by a pack of uncanny human-object abominations to adjust the action economy for the players. There were paths to victory: Mulligan noted that Axford’s plan to go directly for the Godmother’s shard, possibly with Timothy casting Sleep, could have succeeded had a stealth check by Pinocchio and Gerard not gone disastrously. And bad rolls (nearly every death save rolled a 3 on a 20-sided die) meant the window to victory narrowed fast.

A common critique of shifting the genres in a D&D game is to ask, “Well, why don’t you just play a game or a system that isn’t high fantasy?” Why not explore the 1920s in Call of Cthulhu, or psychological horror in Ten Candles, or perhaps a modern-day tale that takes place within one of the settings in Paradox’s World of Darkness? But this encounter was terrifying precisely because of how frighteningly it deviated from the logic, the known rules of 5th edition D&D.

Mulligan was insistent that he’s playing within the expectations of horror as a genre: “If we were doing high fantasy, I would not have created an encounter this challenging. But we’re in a horror world. I’m looking at the audience, looking at my players, looking at the crew, and going, Here’s how heavy my thumb is. Here it is on the scale, and we’re doing it before the encounter starts, for all to see.” - via polygon

[buckevantommy]

OMG i forgot about what ‘2020′ was supposed to be :( 

[theshelbyclan]

Mine

Summary: When she took a job at the night club, all the second Shelby sister wanted was to be in control of her own life. Unfortunately, her brothers don’t approve

(gif by @tatianapetrovna​)

A/N: Okay so this one took me ages, because I spend way too much time researching the history of dance, of prejudice and even old maps and descriptions of 1920’s Birmingham XD All because anon requested: Thura, you wonderful wonderful person. I’ve been saving this request and waiting for your requests to reopen for your talents. Could I please request a Shelby sister where she loves dancing and becomes an exotic dancer at a club, and of course her brothers are horrified when they find out but she manages to convince them that it’s all for her own empowerment Historically, I hope this is all correct, but I put my best woman onto the research as well as I did my own research. There’s no such thing as an exotic dancer yet at that time, or at least the term doesn’t exist, but things like ‘dancing girls’ or ‘the variety’ obviously do exist. These forms of variety were more entertainment for the upper class btw, because they didn’t have to bother with mores as much. You did have different kinds of ‘music hall’ entertainment, a little similar, which was more the working-class entertainment. This wasn’t prostitution, but there were a lot of grey areas. Either way, all women up on the stage, whether they performed half-naked or not, were suspected and accused of prostitution. Legally, the Criminal Law Amendment of 1885, the law that also made ‘gross indecency’ between men punishable, also dealt with sex trafficking and blurred the lines between acting and prostitution even more.

Shelby sis a few years younger than Ada in this, 18, older than Finn, and this takes place around season two. Hope you like this! Words: 3411 ***

Ada’s London home still looked like a vardo, you thought, as you sat on the brightly coloured sofa in het front room. Sure, it was big and fancy, provided to her by Tommy, but half the rooms weren’t being used. The maids’ rooms in the back of the house were simply gathering dust, because Ada couldn’t bear it on her political conscience. And the furniture, well, it wasn’t very different from their interior at Watery Lane: a strange mixture of old items and always a little too colourful and crowded to be properly respectable. 

“What?” your sister demanded, reading the deep thoughts on your face. “I like your home,” youquickly said. “Liar,” Ada threw back, “What’s brought you here, then?” You got straight to the point, “I’m sick of Tommy looming over me like I’m still a child. And it’s not just him. John feels he can interfere in whatever I’m doing as well, keeps banging on about me getting married. Even Arthur keeps taps on where I’m going and where I’ve been. I feel like a fucking prisoner in my own house.” “Ah,” Ada said sarcastically, “Welcome to the life of a Shelby woman. Must’ve been nice, being their little princess, but now it’s time to grow up.” “And that’s what I fucking want! I want to be able to make my own way.” “Well, you can’t sweetheart, not while they’re around. Remember I moved to London to get away from them? And here I am: sitting in Tommy Shelby’s fucking house,” she sipped her drink a little too aggressively. You downed yours and sighed, “You got married, Ada. I have no fucking intention of doing that.” “Oh? Why not?” “No one’s good enough.” Ada laughed, “Bravo.” The two of you sat in silence for a while. In many ways, you were very similar. Two sisters, quite close in age, who were Shelby’s without a doubt, but sick of the business. Ada coped with all of it by distancing herself, through sarcasm and aloofness. You had tried to do the same and cursed your Shelby name in silence, but your brothers wouldn’t let you. They were always so protectiveand it irritated you to no end. Even when you decided to buy a dress for yourself, one that you had picked out, it was theirmoney you were spending. “I want out, Ada.” “So get out.” *** Being a woman in the 20’s wasn’t easy. You’d heard talk of women being more liberated now, of fighting for their rights and being able to control their own lives. This may have been the case for rich upper-class women or those without brothers, being able to march in protests, but not when you were a Shelby from Small Heath. As you walked through muddy streets, you saw all those women selling their bodies and you wondered: were they free? Did they choose? Probably not. Not here. At night, you loved to dance. Often, you walked for over an hour to get to a pub or club where your brothers wouldn’t find you. The Shelby name did help you there, it meant they served drinks to a woman alone, but it wasn’t so much about drinking alone. What mattered to you was the feeling of freedom, of going out and a party never seeming to end. Of dancing, dancing and dancing, and no one telling you to stop. And so you walked until you ended up at the club where you wanted to be. Being blessed with the Shelby good looks wasn’t a bad thing either. Outside, you saw the rich and fancy young men lining up. They didn’t have to worry about their reputation, they didn’t even have to worry about getting arrested, because if they were, the judge would simply let them get off with a simple fine, which they would be able to pay easily. “Alright, fella’s!” you called out cheerfully, turning on your best smile. At once, you noticed them checking you out. You made sure you’d put on your best dress and just as easy as that, you were on the arm of one of them, and he happily paid your fee for you to get inside. “Dance with me, sweetheart,” he breathed into your ear, already drunk by the smell of things. Intoxicated by the music and atmosphere, you danced and forgot all about being a Shelby. Drinks were offered to you left and right, so you eventually had to excuse yourself to visit the powder room. Another girl eyed you as you were fixing your lipstick. She asked, a smile playing around her lips, “First time out in ages, love?” “Nah,” you replied, “But it feels like that sometimes. Finally, free again.” The girl laughed and you noticed how absolutely gorgeous she was, pearly white teeth blinking against dark brown skin and a skirt that seemed to sway even when she didn’t move. Immediately, you were envious of her and all that she represented. She said, “You work at the Alex?” The Alexandra Theatre offered many variety acts and you knew your brothers went there on occasion. What really went on in there, you couldn’t be sure, but you were certain they’d never want you to come along. “No,” you sighed, “My brothers would kill me.” “Luckily I don’t have to worry about mine anymore,” the girl replied airily, “All of us girls, we got ourselves a lodging together. The people don’t approve, but we’re free to do as we please.” “I want that,” you said, without even realising you’d spoken out loud.

“Well, you can, sweetheart,” she turned to you, “If you really want it.” “How?” “I know a man who can get you a job at the Hippodrome. I mean, I’ve seen you; you’re good with people and you know how to dance. And if you ever need a place to stay, if your brothers kick you out, you’re always welcome to stay with us.” Everything she said made you feel so excited, but also scared. And then you asked doubtfully, “Why would you help me?” “Oh, I was once a lot like you. You want to get out, right? You want to make your own money and have your own life. Fuck what people will think of you, they’ll judge you no matter what, at least you can decide on this. You decide to dance and who to make eye contact with and who can touch you and most of all, who fuckingcan’t. Men no longer control your body, only you. That’s what you want, isn’t it, sweetheart?” And that was exactly what you wanted. ***

Weeks had gone by and you were managing your double life quite well. Your brothers were busy with doing whatever it was they were doing and Ada kept her mouth shut. She was too busy trying to not be a Shelby anyway. At the club, you’d met the most amazing girls and had finally found likeminded souls. It was as if they belonged to a different era. The idea of girls having so much freedom to work, earn their own money and just have a good time in the process had been mind-blowing to you, but so, so liberating.

At first, you’d only been a background dancer for the different variety acts, but eventually you’d moved up to doing your own acts as well. Your fan-dance was particularly popular amongst the rich student boys. And, truth be told, you loved the attention. You loved being up on the stage, dancing away and being no longer made to cover up. Of course, many wanted more of you than just to watch you, but you still managed to turn them away with just a cheeky laugh or a decisive ‘no’. This was the life for you, you were certain.

Aunt Polly, however, did have her suspicions and one night she straight up told you, “Are you safe, working down at that club?” You’d tried to deny it at first, but there was no point: Polly had seen you exit the club and you quickly realized she knew everything going on in Birmingham. “Take this,” she’d told you and handed you a small revolver, “It’ll fit down your dress.” You’d protested a little, but knew she was right: better safe than sorry. Still, you didn’t plan on living like this forever. Freedom was limited if it meant you had to sneak about in the evenings and lie to everyone you loved. The girl you’d met at the club kept on offering you a room though and you thought seriously about taking her up on her offer. This, however, would force your hand: you’d have to tell your brothers about your work. *** It was a few days after your brothers had had their holiday in London. You’d come home from work late at night and Tommy was sitting there, waiting for you in the kitchen. “And where have you been?” he demanded, darkly. “Out.” He nodded slowly, but kept looking at you, “I have contacts inside the factories, Y/N. They tell me you no longer work there.” Obviously, you’d given up your job at the BSA, because why would you do both? “You always told me there was no need for me to work,” you threw back, “You always said that you’d take care of me.” “I did. But you never wanted that, did you? You wanted to be your own fucking woman.” Head held high, you asked, “What’s wrong with that?” “Nothing,” Tommy shrugged, “If you don’t mind people talking.” “Fuck people.” “Where did you get the coat, Y/N?” he fired next. “I bought it.” But you realised your mistake at once. Tommy smiled coldly, “With what money? There was nothing taken from the safe.” You started fidgeting a little and turned on your heels, planning to make a quick getaway. Your brother continued, “See, me and John and Arthur went to London today. Business. And we went down to the Eden Club, you might have heard of it? And the things I saw there, Y/N… The music and the booze and all those fucking half-naked girls, men fucking them right there in their seats. Nothing but fucking maniacs out there…”

“Get to the point, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes went dark again and he pointed at you, “They might as well be fucking you.” “I’m not fucking anyone!” you protested. But he slammed a hand down on the table, “I know you’re working at once of those clubs, Y/N, and you tried to keep it a secret, but guess what? Nothing happens in this city without my consent. And you’re not having it.” The same fury you saw in him was rising up in you as well, “You don’t control me, Tommy.” “I do. And you will do as I say.” He whispered venom, “I will discuss this with your brothers, but I can tell you right now, they feel the same. So here it is: you’ll stop working there right fucking now.” “No!” you shouted out, “I fucking won’t!” “I will not have a fucking whorefor a sister!”

That hurt, so you turned around and left. Behind you, you heard Tommy shouting, “You’ll stop, you hear me?” *** But you didn’t stop. You just told the other girls you were sick and had to take off work for a few days. The boss wouldn’t put up with it for much longer though. For another week you kept pretending you had errands to run or friends to meet at night, but your brothers would no longer let you out of their sight. Surprisingly enough, none of them approved. One night, you’d had enough and the warning had come that if you didn’t dance tonight, your job would go to another. So, putting on your best dress, you were planning to leave the house and no one was going to stop you. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Arthur growled from the betting shop. You hadn’t even noticed his presence. “Out.” “Tommy’s told us…” he started. “Yes, I know what he’s told you, alright?” you said without patience, “He told you your sister is a whore who fucks rich men for money, right?” Arthur looked down, but repeated, “You’re not going nowhere.” “Watch me,” you hissed and made your way to the door, but Arthur grabbed your arm before you could leave. At once, you spun around and slapped him, shouting, “Get the fuck off me!” But your brother was the stronger one, raising his voice to drown yours out, trying to calm you down, but to no avail. That’s when John came running, bellowing, “What the fuck is going on here?” “She defied Tommy’s orders, John,” Arthur explained, “She’s still working at that club.” “Fucking orders,really?” you breathed. John sighed, and for a moment you thought he’d side with you, but then he said, “I’ll go and get Tommy.”

“I’m going to be late,” you tried desperately to sound casual, as all three brothers now gathered around you. Tommy smoked emotionless, “And maybe then they’ll fire you instead of you leaving like I fucking told you to.” Roughly, you pulled back your arm from Arthur’s grip, “ And I fucking told you, Thomas, I’m keeping this job. Now, if you don’t want me living here anymore because I’m such a fucking embarrassment to the good Shelby name, I’ll move out!” “Move out to where?” he scoffed. “A friend has a place where I can stay.” “Fine,” he raised his eyebrows, “Go and fucking live with her.” “Thomas,” your aunt had now also joined the party, “Let’s talk about this first.” “There’s nothing to talk about, Aunt Pol,” Arthur said, “It’s all in hand.” “I can see that,” she replied sarcastically, “I’m guessing this is about Y/N’s new job?” John looked at Polly, “You knew about this?” “Of course, I do. Nothing goes on in this house without me knowing about it.” John turned back to you, “Why the fuck would you think you can do that job without any danger?” “Because I have a gun!” Smiling, you held up the weapon that you’d just produced from your garter. “Pol, I decided,” Tommy continued, “She’s not doing it.” “Why!” you called out, exasperated, “Why are you all so against it? I mean, it’s not fucking morals that’s the problem, is it? We’re the Shelby’s! And people already think we’re scum, so who the fuck cares!” “It’s not safe,” John replied at once. And you actually believed his main worry was for your safety. After all, he’d been the one who had wanted to marry Lizzie Stark. The others had all laughed at him. Hell, even you had. And in that very moment, your view of him and that entire situation, which had seemed so funny back then, changed. “It’s not… right,” Arthur protested. You rolled your eyes at that, “You, all of you, all the time, pay for sex. Don’t fucking tell me it’s not right.” “So, that’s what you do, eh?” Tommy asked, “You sell sex.” “No!” “And you somehow think we’d be alright with that,” he continued, voice softening a little bit, “It’s not alright, Y/N.” Polly looked from him to you, and said, “She doesn’t, Tommy. She’s a dancer.” “What’s the fucking difference?” he laughed. “This is the last time I’m going to say this:” you sighed, “I do not fuck men for money!” Three pairs of eyes looked sceptically back at you. “I’m a dancer, like Aunt Polly said. I do the variety on most nights, when they do they sketches about the politicians? I’m a background dancer.” You paused for a moment, “And recently I’ve also been asked to do some solo performances. It’s just me dancing on stage, yes I’m not covered from head to toe, but I’m up on stage. No one can touch me. My body is there to look at, nothing else.” “Your body is there to look at,” Tommy shook his head, cynical smirk playing about his lips. “Yes,” you hissed, “Because whether you like it or not, my body is mine. I fucking decide what I do with it and you know what? I’m fucking beautiful and everyone over there thinks so. And I’m good at dancing, Tommy, I’m actually really fucking good at it. But I dance, because I decide. I can flaunt all of it, because it’s mine.” Arthur still had a very dark expression, “What about after the show. Me and John, we’ve been to the Alex, so we know what the girls do…” “They walk around, chat up the men and sip their drinks while sitting on their laps,” you filled in the blanks, “I know.” “Oh, they do a lot more than that,” John smirked, but he quickly looked down to hide it. “But I don’t.” “Why would you even want to do this?” John looked up, “Why this of all the things you can do?” “Why not?” you threw back, “I’m good at it, I’m making my own money, and for the first time I don’t feel ashamed or scared for being a woman.” Tommy shook his head again, “You’re being exploited, Y/N.” “That’s rich coming from you,” Aunt Polly laughed, “So it’s alright if you go to them, alright for you to exploit them, but not when your sister dances out of her own free will?” “Do we have a man inside?” John asked Tommy, “Like the doorman?” And when tommy nodded, he said, “I’ll talk to him and make sure he looks out for Y/N.” “You’re bloody agreeing to this?!” Arthur shouted. John only shrugged in reply, but when you shared a look with him, you knew he understood.

Arthur opened his mouth again, but you quickly cut him off, “It’s feminism, Arthur, and you wouldn’t understand.” “What the fuck is feminism?” “Exactly.” Now the only one left to deal with was Tommy and he was obviously the most adamant one. Stubborn and angry, he stood there, cigarette against his lips. But he wasn’t the only Shelby who wouldn’t budge when pushed; you could be just as stubborn as he was. “If you hate men looking at me or the idea of them paying for my body, maybe you should reconsider using women like that yourself, Tommy,” you fired. He locked eyes with you, which made you more nervous than anything he could’ve said. Then ground out, “That’s the thing, Y/N, I know men.” “Oh, so do I, Tommy. Better than you do, I’m sure, especially now that I’ve worked this job.” He rolled his eyes. “Listen to me,” you urged, “Because I know you can understand. It’s all just a game, everything I do is a game. I do what I’m good at and I show them what they can’t have, and they fucking pay for it. They pay for what they can’t have, and even you have to be impressed by that. I know how they think, these rich boys at the Hippodrome, and when they think I like them or just talk to them for a second, they’ll give me everything I want. The rich toffs in control? I can play them all. I’m in control, Tommy. I am. They think the girls are easy? Theyare. They don’t buy me and I don’t sell sex. I own them.” A glimpse of something like recognition passed over Tommy’s face and you knew what you said made sense to him. Because in many ways, you weren’t as different. “You think I’m a whore?” you asked, “You really think so?” He looked down and thought about it. Then he said, “Everyone’s a whore. We just sell different parts of ourselves.” “Exactly.” And that’s when you knew he did understand. “Let her go,” Polly said softly after a while. “Fine, you can go,” your brother finally agreed, “But you come to me if there’s any trouble.” With a smile, you nodded. “Also, don’t expect to see us in there,” Arthur grumbled, sounding a little sad that he could no longer come to the club now that his baby sister was working there. Absolutely excited, you sprinted out the door, because you really were running late now. But after about a minute, you came back running inside again. “Now what?” John asked. “I forgot my feathers!” you called out, while thumping up the stairs. “Fucking feathers,” Tommy sighed. And with your most charming smile, you came hurrying back down again, “For my fan-dance!” But none of the brothers really wanted to know. *** Masterlist

[luv4fandoms]

At Last-Ralph x FReader (ch 1)

So I haven't written in over a year lol, and this was SUPPOSE to be a one-shot, but I started writing and got in the groove again sooooo...it became a chapter story! Lol. Hoping to get a chapter out every Friday til the story is finished that way I can balance it with running my Etsy shop and all 😊.

Summery: After you and your friends are transported back to the 1920's by a time machine elevator, you embark on an adventure, and that adventure leads to a beautiful man.

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Pairing: Ralph x Reader

Words: 3,328

Warnings: Ralph being a cutie, also some possible trigger words for some, I do apologize, I was simply quoting the show and they were used.

I also have a Ko-Fi 😊

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞.⚠️

"At last, my love has come along

My lonely days are over

And life is like a song"

"So…Just to recap so that I know I am not losing my mind here….We actually just followed a homeless man into an elevator"

"Yeah"

"That was actually a time machine"

"Yeah"

"That actually took us back to the 1920's"

"Yeah"

"How do you know it's the 20's?"

"Which box do we check first, the cars? The hair? The fashion?"

"1920's London"

"Not exactly what I signed up for when I decided to vacation from America" you sighed, looking around the cobblestone road. Somehow, because you still couldn't wrap your head around a time machine elevator, you and your four friends had landed yourselves in London…In the 1920's. Horace and Jason were looking around please, for different reasons, Horace in amusement and Jason at all the women. Nick looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, while you and Lauren sat back and took in your situation. You would be lying if you said that this whole thing was at least somewhat exciting, odd and unbelievable, but exciting. You had decided to visit your friends over the summer, having met Lauren online some years ago when you were in a Facebook group for "Things to do when in London", since you were hoping to visit that following year. Lauren and you struck up a fast friendship over music, and soon found you had a lot of similar interests. 

"Alright, let's just stick together and avoid any

plantations." Nick said after a moment.

"Imagine all the things we could do." Horace said with a smile 

"Invest in stocks and shares and get filthy rich in the present day." Lauren replied with a mischievous smile back.

"I was gonna say burn a witch, but we could do that." Horace replied

"...Now I suddenly don't feel safe" You replied, causing Horace to turn to you.

"Can trace my ancestors back to Salem remember" you laughed, causing his eyes to widen.

"Right! No, sorry, no witch burning" he backtracked, causing you to laugh more.

"It doesn't matter what time we're in, any time before the mid-'80s isn't good for black people." Nick stressed

"You have a point" You stated

"Bruv, how can you not wanna explore? We owe it to ourselves! People like us never

get to time travel. It's what white people do,

like skiing, or brunch." Jason replied,

"Anyone got a fiver? I'm gonna buy a house." Lauren laughed as you all made your way onto the streets.

"Look at you perving at all the ye olde ladies." She teased Jason.

"I'm just appreciating when women dressed like women, and not like twelve-year-old schoolboys." He told her, earning a punch in the arm. 

"I wouldn't call you eyeing every woman as simply appreciating" you laughed. Noticing a woman staring at Lauren before muttering.

"That reminds me, I must buy some black pudding."

"Would it mess with the future if I smacked that woman in the face right now?" Lauren asked, causing everyone to snicker but bringing up a very good question, what would happen to the future, your timelines, by you simply existing in the 20's?

"No, seriously, she's right. Time, space, ripple

effects and all that. What would happen?" Nick asked, causing Horace to reach into his pocket.

"Homeless Pete gave me some rules. Um 1, Don't kill anyone." 

"That's not even specific to time travel." Nick muttered

"Don't impregnate, get impregnated. Don't touch any animals."

"Awe there goes your fun Jason" you teased.

"Have fun and try to blend in." Horace finished

"Try to blend in?" You asked

"Am I the only one noticing that?" Nick pointed behind you, you all turned and noticed a large crowd of white people gathered to stare…ah…yeah…people of color were not as common in these times indeed.

"Why are we in a suit shop?"

"Because I didn't see a Foot Locker."

You noticed the man behind the desk look up from his magazine as you all walked in before suddenly looking very scared.

"Good afternoon" he said nervously

"How may I eat you-, help you?" He quickly corrected himself, his eyes landing on you.

"Hello sir, my friends would like suits please"

"Y-Yes of course, I'll just go eat the-Get the manager" he nervously smiled before escaping to the backroom.

"She's alright." You heard Jason say as you leaned over the counter to see the magazine the man had been looking at…Ah cannibals…that explains the oddness.

"Going by the day's events, don't you think you have enough girlfriends?" Nick asked

"Alright, then you go talk to her."

"Well, obviously I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because she's about 90 years older than me."

"What?"

"Yes, I could go outside,and yes, I could chat her up. But what if I fell for her, and she for I?

And we had this whirlwind love affair where we couldn't be without one another.

And at the peak of everything, she decides to come back with me to the 21st century. But as we return to the present day, I'd turn to her only to see that she'd become the age she would be in that time. And I would have the girl of my dreams as an old woman, dying in my arms." Nick concluded. 

"Ahh Nick, always the romantic" you snickered

"Bruv, I just said to get her phone number." Jason replied just as a new voice spoke up.

"Ahem!" 

Spinning around you suddenly felt like the air got knocked out of you as you looked toward the new people in the small shop.

'Oh…Oh'

"Hello" they spoke at the same time, and you could hear Horace say something along the lines of 

"Hail thee, good morrow,how doth thou?" Behind you, but he sounded so far away, everything did, it was like everything suddenly blurred into nothing until there was just him. He wore a cream colored suit and a boater hat, a simple enough outfit for the time but that wasn't what caught your attention, his eyes, the way his smile made them sparkle as he excitedly told the woman beside him to ask them, before prompting her again, causing her to quickly snap at him and his smile fell, and you watched his eyes dull a bit, the sight making your heart clench.

'Don't look sad please,never look sad'

"Ask us what?"

"We were just wondering-" He started but again was cut off by the woman, you could feel yourself beginning to get annoyed at her as you watched his eyes dull even further.

"Yes, Ralph!..Are you a jazz band?"

"What makes you think we're a jazz band?" Lauren asked, and you watched his eyes move over to her, eyeing her up and down and you felt your chest ache…So…Even in a different time nothing changes. Your eyes drift away from him, everything coming into focus again as Nick and the woman talked.

"Quartet."

"Well, four (five) coloured chaps in London. What else could you be?" She replied

"You're also carrying instruments." He added

"Oh, so you are." She smiled, looking at their hands and glancing at you.

"Now call it fate, but Ralph and I are hosting a sick-makingly glorious birthday party." She smiled excitedly, something about this woman gave you a headache already, but at least now you knew his name was Ralph…It suited him.

"We're twins.Non-identical." he stated, as if the non-identical needed to be added you thought, finding yourself smiling a bit. 

"I was born first." She added

"So Victoria and I are having

a party-" he started again, only to get cut off once more, and by how he slowly sank back you knew this happened often…Too often.

"Yes, Ralph!...And daddy promised us a Negro jazz band."

"You really shouldn't use that word." Lauren added.

"Oh, sorry. A Negro jazz quartet. Quite a shame, the band we hired cancelled.

"One of the poor fellows got polio." They laughed, causing you all to kind of look at one another.

"Typical, isn't it? All bad things seem to happen to me." She pouted

"How much we talking?" Lauren asked

"You'll be paid fabulously"

"So please, please, please say you're a jazz quartet!"

"We are a jazz quartet."

"Sorry, we'd love to but unfortunately we've got to get home." Nick started but Lauren jumped in

"We'll be there."

"Wondrous!"

"It is rather a formal affair."

"Yes, so no curious native trousers or, um, spongy foot sheaths."

"I can't wait!"

"Please don't let us down, otherwise Ralph and I will howl with shame and take our lives in a tragic double suicide." She stated, causing everyone to let out a nervous laugh, except they weren't laughing…before a simple.

"See you chaps later!" And just like that, they were gone. You watched them through the window, watched as he retreated with his sister, his excitement visible if only for a moment before she dampened it again.

"All I'm saying is that when people time travel, it's to prevent a natural disaster or to save mankind from extinction.Not to perform as a

'Negro jazz quartet'" Nick ranted after everyone left the shop with their new suits, you excluded. You looked around after you all stopped in the street, everyone ranting about how Nick wanted a paid gig and now they have one, Nick ranting about how everyone needed to get home and he was going to go back and find the lift to get us out of there. In the end Nick left on his own, leaving the four of you in the streets. 

"Right so do we just have a look around then?" Horace asked.

"You can go ahead, I'm going to look in some shops, still need to find some clothes" you replied, thumbing towards some more shops.

"Oh right!" Horace started but Lauren cut in 

"Why don't you lot go on ahead, we'll meet you at the gig" she stated, before walking with you towards the shops. The first two shops you both quickly walk out of after looking at the price tags. Yes you had some money but not that much. The 3rd shop was a bit cheaper, it was a bit of a thrift store in a way, returns from other shops that maybe had lost a few beads or had been repaired hung on the walls. 

"So…You trying to look your best tonight?" Lauren asked while you looked at the dresses.

"Just looking to blend in I suppose" you shrugged, watching as she nodded but continued to stare at you from the corner of her eye.

"So you wouldn't be looking for somethin' to catch his eye?" She asked after a moment, causing your head to whip in her direction.

"W-what?" You asked, trying to keep your voice low and even.

"Come off it, I saw the way you stared at what's his name…Ralph, back there. Looked like a deer in the headlights, if the deer was also in love with the car" she smirked before adding.

"Also pretty sure I heard you gasp when you first turned around"

"I….I don't know what you're going on about, I had no such look" you stated, going back to the dress.

"Oh really?" 

"Really" 

"Cause it looked to me like-"

"He had his eye on someone else anyways, now can we please drop it?" You sighed, grabbing a dress and heading to the changing room. Lauren watched you walk away, confused by your reaction, she was only teasing in her own sort of way, but the way you acted…she felt like she was opening an old wound. When you emerged again you were dripping in black and gold, a beaded headpiece around your (h/c) locks and a faux pearl bracelet around your wrist. Mary Janes adored your feet and as you looked at yourself in the mirror you truly felt like you were living your Great Gatsby fantasy.

"Whoa" Lauren said behind you.

"Good Whoa or Bad Whoa?" You asked, teeth worrying your bottom lip.

"Good Whoa" she smiled, causing you to sigh, before you grabbed your bag that was now filled with your old clothes and walked to the cashier, handing her the money, very glad you had exchanged your Dollars for Pounds. 

After shopping the two of you met up with Horace and Jason again, walking around the town for a bit before heading to the party. A party that you were both looking forward to and dreading. Once there you were shocked by the amount of people already there, and the amount of alcohol. You watched as the three of your friends drank from the bottle, you yourself sipping from your cup, before Jason noticed something, tapping Lauren on the arm.

"Someone's got an admirer." He nodded towards a table, you all looked over and noticed Ralph, his eyes raking over Lauren as he smiled at her.

"I'm guessing he's gonna be pretty pissed off when he finds out you're a girl." Jason joked

"Yeah, well I'm guessing Victoria's gonna be pretty pissed when she finds out you're a girl." Lauren replied, her eyes looking over to find you, your front facing the bar, your back to Ralph as you drank your drink. She looked back at Ralph, noticing that his eyes were on you, eyebrows furrowed before he caught her gaze, smiling again. The rest of the night was a whirlwind, first there was trying to stall hoping Nick would show up, then Jason almost started up with how it was now a Trio, the Wu-tang clan, before Nick actually showed up and they played their asses off. You couldn't help but actually enjoy yourself, the alcohol in your system mixing with the good music made it easier as you danced with random men and women. But all nights had to come to an end, and so soon while you were gathering round with your friends and smiling, Victoria and Ralph appeared.

"Such a giddy-making delight of a night, all thanks to you gentlemen." She smiled, before looking at the boys.

"Now, who would like a dance with the birthday girl?" She asked, Horace started to raise his hand before Jason pushed it down.

"I thought you'd never ask." He smiled and left with her. 

"And what about the birthday boy?" Ralph asked, and your eyes met Lauren's.

"Oh, I'm not-" Horace started but Ralph cut him off.

"Oh no, I was talking to that-,This one-, particular one of you." He gestured to Lauren before asking her directly.

"Would you?" She looked over at you once more, unsure of what to do, and noticed Ralph turn his head to look at you as well, seemingly following Lauren's gaze. You smiled, hoping it was a happy and reassuring smile, but the look on her face said that the disappointment showed through. But she still sighed, looked at Ralph and nodded.

"Yeah, go on then". You watched them head to the dance floor, Ralph looking especially excited while Lauren looked uneasy.

"Oi, you alright?" Horace asked, looking over at you.

"Me? On yeah I'm fine" you waved him off, going back to your drink.

"You sure, you look….sad" 

"No I'm fine, just a bit tired is all" you lied, and from the look on his face, he didn't buy it.

"Right come on then" he stated, putting your drink down and grabbing your hand.

"Excuse you sir" you laughed.

"Nope, don't even try it, no friend of mine is going to be looking like the girl who didn't get asked to prom" he smiled, you knew his comment was supposed to cheer you up but he didn't have to hit home like that.

"Thank you?" You questioned as the two of you started dancing. 

You couldn't help the glances over to Lauren and Ralph, glances you thought were sneaky…guess you thought wrong"

"You fancy him?"

"What?" 

"You do" Horace smiled

"I don't know what you're talking about" you stated, slightly glaring at your friend.

"You find him proper fit yeah?" 

"Horace please" you begged

"I'm not gonna tell, everyone has their types" he smiled.

"His is Lauren" you muttered, but he was close enough to catch it.

"So that's what's got you so down" he spoke, making you look at him.

"Don't let one fish ruin the sea for you"

"It isn't just one fish though" you sighed, jumping slightly when Lauren's voice was beside you.

"Why don't we switch partners, make the evening even more fun" she smiled an uneasy smile at you, Ralph behind her looking confused as she took your hands from Horace and replaced them with her own, both of them trying not to grimace at the weird action for them both. 

"Oh..um.." you stood, mouth opening and closing as they danced away, you slowly turned and were met with those same eyes that made your entire world melt away just this morning.

"Shall we then?" He asked after a moment.

"Oh..yes…sure" you gave a shy smile, placing one hand on his shoulder and holding his other, your breath catching in your throat when his hand rested on your waist. The two of you slowly swayed to the music, your eyes darting between his gaze and anywhere else, afraid if you stared too long you may get lost in those brown puppy dog eyes. It really should have been illegal for someone to look this beautiful. But a distinct tapping sound brought you out of your thoughts and as you slowly identified the sound you couldn't help the giggle.

"Are you wearing tap shoes?"

"Yes, aren't they wizard!" He smiled excitedly, his eyes twinkling just as they had this morning. And you couldn't stop the smile that reached your lips at the sight.

"Very, if I knew tap shoes were allowed I would have brought some, they make dancing more fun" you laughed, causing him to smile even brighter at you. 

"Oh do they, tonight has been the best birthday" he replied, and you nodded, because it really had been a good night.

"I'm glad you had fun Ralphie, happy birthday" you smiled, and watched as his face slowly morphed from excited to shocked, making your smile drop to a confused expression.

"Ralphie?" He questioned, causing your eyes to go wide as you quickly tried to come up with something, how could you do that? How could you slip up and give him a nickname the day you met him?! And not just any nickname, but one that sounds like it would be said by a lover! You wracked your brain for something, completely missing the blush that had spread on his cheeks from the nickname as he replayed it again and again in his head.

'Ralphie…Ralphie' he loved the sound of it, or maybe he loved the sound of you saying it with such affection, his mind playing him small movies, you sitting next to him, his head in your lap as he played his ukulele, you smiling down at him, playing with his hair as he sung…You curled up in his arms as he read you his favorite book, both of you comfortable under his sheets before you would drift off for the night…You atop him…your dress slowly sliding off your shoulder, your head thrown back and mouth open as you repeated that name…his na-

"I'm so sorry, I forgot that some people don't like nicknames, I tend to give them without thinking, I really am sorry" you settled on your excuse, watching as he blinked repeatedly, seemingly coming out of his thoughts.

"That's um" he cleared his throat.

"That's quite alright, you just caught me unaware, I'm not used to being called such…simply Ralph" he replied, finally meeting your eyes again, and you noticed his pupils were a little blown. 

"Sorry, I'll just stick to Ralph" you tried to laugh it off but he quickly cut you off"

"I like Ralphie.

Chapter 1 done!! Let me know what you think!

Also let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

Taglist

@quirkyquartney

@the-a-word-2214

@no-mercy-bby

Your dress

[windsweptinred]

OK, so I'll openly admit to getting a little obsessed with this headcanon. But but but... My expanded theory on Hob as successor to Father Time and Dream as the next Night.

So the Why... Hob is Hope and Delight and Curiosity and all those things people have called him in abundance. But what this all accumulates to is he loves 'LIFETIME'. He appreciates the time he has. Every second of it! The good and the bad. The memories of the past, the everyday wonders of the present, the potential of the future. He doesn't waste a minute of it. He respects and revels in Time. It's his one true gift, Hob has Time and makes a masterpiece of it.

And the How... the Greeks, (who seem to be really up on their Endless know how in their own way) had three divine representations of time..

1.The first, Opportunity, luck and favorable moments.

2. The next level is Eternity, The Zodiac /The turning of time/months/seasons etc

3. Finally the Big Dog, Time itself.. Past, Present, Future

So we say that's the three stages a new Time will journey through.

Hob is literally 'birthed' as Time's successor through 'opportunity'. A case of gets cocky at the right place, right time and boom... In that instance, Death withholds her gift, and after some bargining with dear old dad. Father Time pours himself into Hob to stop the age and decay of his mortal body. Too much of himself. The process of one Time fading and one Time ascending begins!

Say from that point on the power of opportunity is Hobs, even though he doesn't know it. Things just work for him and those he cares about. Who's ever side he's fighting on in a battle 'will' win. The printing press for example, he joins it as a no hope career then it explodes! Hob just puts it down to good luck and a can do attitude.

By the End of the 1500s he's slowly evolving into the next stage, Eternity. Learning to respect the natural cycle of time, the change of the seasons, with life comes death...Yeah, this stage starts with a hard lesson.

So by this point, the power of life, memory and time are all slowly building up within Hob. Every turn of the wheel that passes for him, it grows. Now this could take centuries to come to fruition. But over the years, not that he'd notice, say, the seasons seem to be perfect wherever he goes. His memory, even as an immortal shouldn't be able to withtain everything he's been through. But he has perfect recall of everything from 1389 onwards. Maybe people around him get that little extra boost for experiencing life in the time they have. I also love the idea of the embodiements of the Zodiac being at his unknowing beck and call. He's sat talking to a crab and is like, "Let's have a good July this year. What do you think little crab?" And Cancer replies in crab... 'Ofcourse my liege!' and skuttles off to see to it immediately.

Final stage, Time itself. Learning to be and master Past, Present and Future... Where the fun really starts.

Hob waking up a different age every day of the week until he gets a handle on it.

Accidentally trapping himself in a time loop beacuse he was so focused on how a situation could have played out better.

Wishing he could have been there to help Dream and suddenly find himself standing outside of Fawney Rig in the 1920. And having seen enough movies to know he can't change anything. Even though he wants to more then anything.

Sneezing too hard and ending up in a different universe 100 years in the future. And having to call on a very white and definitely not 'his' Dream of the Endless to find his way back.

Hob may be starting to realise somethings a miss by now...

....................................................................

As for Dream becoming Night. Of all the Endless Siblings, Dream is the closest in function to Mother Night. While you can certainly dream during the day. Sleep and Night generally go hand in hand. He also seems to have taken for her the most in appearance if those starry eyes are anything to go by..

But well, the moment Hob decided, 'That's the anthropomorphic personification I'm going to marry!' his fate was sealed. Time HAS to have a Night. Mummy dearest is now slowly on the wane as her power slowly passes to her son.

I doubt Dream would notice any major changes for a while. He's got a lot on his plate to contend with after all. But maybe little things...

One morning he's snuggling with Hob and the dawn sunlight beams straight into his eyeballs. And Dream thinks, 'Go away...' And suddenly it's night again until his highness deems it time to get up.

The Stars in their masses start to visit the Dreaming to pay their respects to Dream. Which is all very nice, but he has absolutely no idea why its happening.

Dream is regarding himself in the mirror and notices his skin is starting to ever so slighlty sparkle. Thinks, 'I am getting old, I'm turning into my Mother.' Yup, quite literally duck. 😆

................................................

Then we come to the events of 'The Wake'. But a different kind of death awaits Dream, that of transformation. Daniel becomes Dream, Dream becomes Night. Hob ascends as the new Time... And Father Time and Mother Night's A* parenting comes back to bite them in some truly cosmic level karma.

[henrysglock]

Ramble...7? I think? Anyway: On the topic of Radiation

So. As per the ADHD. I was getting sucked into a morbid curiosity black hole re: radium.

And I found out about this guy, Eben BYERS, whose entire jaw fell off after being treated with radium in the late 1920s. (Disturbing image of Eben Byers below the cut at the very end for reference.)

So obviously I went "lol What the Fuck", because of course I would when something horrific happens to someone with the last name Byers, and when I tell you this guy and his brother (L and R respectively) are DEFINITELY from the ST Byers family??? But like...if the ST Byers were real people. I mean just look at them.

So of course I was like "Okay. Jesus Christ. WHAT is going on in the house of commons, because this is peak Stranger Things-type body horror", which landed me back in human experimentation territory.

Turns out, there was a whole raft of radium based shit going on, mostly between 1940-1970, mainly children being used as test subjects for nasopharyngeal radium irradiation (NRI), which was meant to treat a bunch of conditions.

(An aside: NRI is known to damage the soft tissues of the nose, and you know who has no fucking nose???

Vecna/Henry. Do with that what you will.)

One thing that really stuck with me, though, is that radium glows bright green. Sound familiar?

I know plutonium was mentioned, especially in regard to the manhattan project, where plutonium is depicted as glowing bright green. That said...plutonium is not a bright, glowing green in real life. This is plutonium in solution.

Either way, discussing this with Aemiron brought me around to looking at radiation in regard to MKUltra. Lo and behold...

Radiation treatments. In MKUltra. Which was canonically happening in Hawkins.

And then Aemiron brought up the point about Will and the Jaws poster, as well as The Thing, which evidently starts with the mouth when it turns victims inside out. Which, this all sounded an awful lot like the Flayed (melted) to me.

I don't have a point here, not yet, but I could have some absolutely horrifying ST5 Mike Vecna vision theories in regard to this weird coincidence (?).

One last thing about the Byers family (irl)? Eben's brother had a child named Nancy and a child named Buckley. Interesting on the names, huh?

--

Another thing that interested me while I was reading the case document (where the screenshot about MKUltra came from) was the Green Run project back from 1949.

Xenon-133 is an asphyxiant. You know who "officially" died from exposure to an experimental chemical asphyxiant? BARB.

There's already some radiation fuckery going on in Hawkins. But it just keeps going.

--

Along the lines of radiation in general, though.

The demogorgon, Henry's transformation, and just ST4 in general smacks of Chernobyl. If any of you have watched Chernobyl, you'll know what I'm talking about.

I have comparison pictures here for cinematography and character design, but also others under the cut (those ones are kind of gruesome).

What is going on here?

In conclusion: What on earth????????

And more importantly...what the hell are we going to see in ST5?

Eben Byers (Jawless)

Henry vs Vasily Ignatenko's Radiation Poisoning

(Plus the Demogorgon for good measure re: skin texture vs radiation burns)