#i swear if my doll abstracts!!!!!

[kookies2000]

Watched Matpat video on TADC ep2.

Can I just say this? Only three characters acknowledged the audience/ camera. Caine, Jax, and Ragatha. Caine talks directly at us as the host. He's in the spotlight and makes it obvious. Jax looks at us for fun like a cartoon. In a way that's only obvious to us and no one else. Like in the pilot when he looks at the audience but Ragatha thinks he's looking at her. And finally, Ragatha. She glances at us when she gets stabbed.

It's not obvious to any of the others, and we can easily miss it as the audience. It's just a glance. I would like to acknowledge how they are the only three in Pomnis' dream, too.

And the only three who have some sort of authority. Caine is the one in control of everything. Jax is like second in command physically. Ragatha seems to be at his level, too, but emotionally.

Just a few things I wanted to point out. These three seem to have some kind of power/knowledge the others don't.

EDIT: Amanda and Michael seem to be the most interactive with Goose! Ever since the live they did, we thought it was fan service to the Bunny Doll people. But they talked about Ragathas nice hair in the live and the show. Jax says "epic" in the live and show. They also talked about evil Ragatha in the live and then Goose tweets about evil Ragatha. I'm starting to sweat. Micheal and Amanda weren't just doing fan service. They were staying in character. So now I'm really nervous about how Michael said Jax would be devastated if Ragatha abstracted. I don't think it's the fan service we thought it was.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously

parings -> ( eventually ) enhypen x reader genre -> soulmate au, fantasy au, angst warnings -> angst, rejection word count -> 2.1k

abstract -> my soul was always yours... im sorry it took this long

flashback – heeseung’s perspective

“But I don’t want to go,” I told my sister. She sighed and continued to fix my hair for this stupid day. “Come on, maybe you’ll find friends,” she said with a grin and I scoffed. “This is different from you, you actually found friends” I whined and I knew she was already worried but I dreaded having to go to a new school. 

“Heeseung, be brave for me okay?” she said and I rolled my eyes but agreed. I held her hand tightly as I saw the school in front of us. 

Belift Boarding School for Young Witches. 

“You’ll pick me up, right?” I asked and she smiled. “I’ll be right here to hear how your day went little brother,” she said as I waved her goodbye. I hated the thought of starting a new school. 

Only for the kids to treat me like an idiot, a monster, anything but human. I wanted to find Jungwon and Sunoo… but I didn’t know if they were incarnated again. Or the other boys… maybe even Sooha. Anyone to make me feel less alone. 

This is a stupid school, filled with idiots!

The orphanage just had to make me go here. It's dumb. Filled with kids who don’t even know simple magic, what is this school?! Then again… noona would just say it's because I have my memories of past lives that I know about my abilities. 

“Hey! That’s mine!” I heard and I noticed the mean kids didn’t target me… maybe cause I was placed as a top student when the school tested me. No one wants to bully a kid who knows more magic than them… maybe it's better I went to an all-witches school this time around.

I wouldn’t have vampires or werewolves messing with me. 

The group of boys threw her books out of the window and I scoffed. “Oops! Sorry y/n!” they said and laughed but she didn’t cry nor yell at them to stop. Instead, she looked angry. 

I was going to help her but… I laughed. 

It seemed that they all now looked at me confused. “What are you laughing at!?” they yelled and I couldn’t stop. “Maybe… look in a mirror!” I said, trying to stop. She must've done a basic spell to do that… she gave them weirdly colored hair. One had a giraffe pattern, the other a zebra, and their leader a cow. 

It looked funny on them. They all looked at each other and argued. They didn’t even notice the girl scoff and walk towards me. 

“You could’ve let them figure it out,” she said and I chuckled. “Sorry to take away your surprise, but want help finding your books?” I asked and she smiled. “Please?” she asked and I swear I fell in love at the very moment. Her smile and shining eyes…

“I’m y/n by the way… what’s your name?”

Twas the night before the masquerade. 

“I wrote her the best card!” Sunoo praised as he tied his bow tie. “In your dreams! She’s gonna choose me to be her date!” Jake said and I laughed. “How bad was your writing on that card?” I said and everyone laughed. “Hey! That doesn’t matter!” he said and I chuckled.

“Heeseung-hyung… do you know who she chose?” Jungwon asked and I smiled. “Who knows?” I said and they groaned. I left first wandering outside… 

Why was I nervous? 

If I was being honest with myself I didn’t let myself read her mind. A part of me begged for her to choose me… despite how selfish I've been. 

In my confession, I asked her to meet me in the back of the school at the flower field. Each minute went by that I wanted to turn back… I know that she was sure her card was from Sunoo. So why was I still–

“Heeseung?” I heard and I felt like I was alive again. The feeling like throwing up, the anxiety, the cold sweat… I turned to see her in a beautiful dress, dolled up and everything. 

“You’re the one who sent this?” she asked, confused and I gave her a nervous smile. 

“Will you let me explain everything?”

y/n’s perspective

I sat down wanting to at least hear him out. I guess I did choose one of my soulmates… just not the one who–

“I never wanted to reject you,” he said… Did I mishear him? “When I saw you again I��� felt alive, like there's a heartbeat in my chest. You make me just as nervous though…” he said and I was confused. 

This wasn’t the Heeseung I knew– 

“I’m not… you met Heeseung. The vampire, the one who in his past life was devoted to a princess… but a long time ago you met Evan” he said and I felt my eyes widen. 

Evan?

“Pathetic right? I gave you my English name and lied to you saying I was a foreigner when we were kids… I just didn’t want you to know about me. Jake told me you met my sister… I was a witch who attended Belift Boarding School for young witches” he said… Evan.

The boy who always met up with me after classes… the boy who helped me prank the other kids in my class. 

“I don’t understand," I said, confused…

“I think I’ve loved you since I first saw you, y/n” 

When we first met I felt drawn to love at first sight.  I loved you then and I love you now, I’ll always be there to lift you up even if you don't want me there. I want to be the only one to cherish and love you. To die and live for you and only you. So I can only dream you would do that for me. 

“Then why? You were one the meanest! You rejected me first! You’re a liar… you… why?” I yelled until I realized I was getting emotional.

“Don’t cry… not when you have six other soulmates–” “Answer me” I said and he smiled a soft smile. 

A smile that… I've only seen once… when he comforted me after what happened with Jake. 

“Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon were in love with Sooha… they don’t know this but you do. If you have more than one soulmate and you try to–" "To bond with a few of them then the bond eventually dies' ' I finished for him and he gave me a sad smile. 

“I knew Jungwon would want to be with you even without the bond and so would Niki and Sunoo. I wasn’t sure though… but here you are” he said and I scoffed. 

“You shouldn’t make decisions for other people,” I said and he gave me a sad smile. “I know… but when it affects your magic I was willing to break you apart from them when not all of them were going to accept you easily,” he said and I sighed. 

It's why I couldn’t defend myself against Jake… also why my magic has been faltering recently. 

When a witch's soulmate bond is rejected… and fighting for the bond drains your magic. You can fix either by rejecting your mates back… or having them accept you. It's also why Wonyoung broke my bond temporarily… so my magic can temporarily regenerate. 

“You turned into a vampire?” I asked and he chuckled. “Not willingly… but I can live with it. My sister recommended that I go to Decelis. So im learning to come to terms with it” he said and I nodded. 

“You really do look pretty… you would have to be the prettiest person in the school” he said as he lifted his hand up to tuck my hair away. 

“Prettier than Sooha?” I asked and he chuckled. “Believe it or not, I've never loved Sooha. She was more like a sister to me… my own sister took care of me in this life. While I took care of Sooha in another… So I didn’t reject you to have Sooha… I would have to be a fool” he said and I was shocked. 

“Go to your party… you worked hard for it. They’re all waiting–" "But I chose your message, "I said, cutting him off. 

“Oh? I guess you did… It would be a bad example if the president of the student council of Bright Sun didn’t follow her own rules” he said and I chuckled. 

“Shall we?”

We arrived now with our masks on and I took everything in. 

I soon heard him chuckle beside me… “They’re all jealous and annoyed,” he said and I sighed. “They must be confused about who I chose?” I asked and he nodded. 

“They’d never guess me,” he said and I nodded… I looked at him, he was happy. He had a grin on his face… not so serious like other times. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, will you give me at least one dance?” he asked and I smiled and took his hand. 

I enjoyed my time with him… this was the Evan I knew. My best friend from elementary school graduated and I never heard of it again. 

“I wish you would let me choose my own path, you know,” I said as we swayed to the music. He smiled… “I know better than anyone… what rejecting mates does to a witch. You were fighting for the bond… and it was eating your magic” he said and he wasn’t wrong. I jeopardized myself… but they didn’t know that. 

“How do you know about that?” I asked and he sighed. “Let's just say my sister… she experienced it,” he said and I felt my eyes widen. 

“Don’t worry… she’s fine. Can I ask–” “We will be announcing our king and queen!” I heard Wonyoung’s voice. “Now we have included this year to not just include witches or any magic users only. So please be open-minded to one another and let us accept other species into our traditions” she said and I smiled. 

It was controversial but it was all fun and to be enjoyed. 

“Our king… is K from Riverfield!” she announced and I was shocked. K? I soon saw him join the stage… “And our queen… Sooha from Declis” she announced. What? Not everything was wrong– 

“EJ and Wonyoung are doing me a favor… Sunghoon can put aside his ego for this one time” Heeseung said. The King was voted most times for Sunghoon and the Queen was Wonyoung… So what was going on?

I looked back at them getting their crowns and smiling at each other… “They’ve accepted one another,”  said and he nodded. 

“K finally has some sense… and Sooha is finally thinking clearly,” he said and I chuckled. “Thank you… even though you tampered with my event” I said and he laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I'll make it up to you,” he said and I smirked. “Oh? Then I know how you can '' I said and he looked at me shocked. “We’re soulmates right, Evan?” I asked and he laughed.

“Yes, we’re soulmates y/n. I’m sorry for everything… but I'm willing to do anything for you. I promise my little witch” he said and I smiled. 

“y/n!!” I heard and I saw Sunoo and Jungwon. “You bastard! What'd you do to our soulmate!” Sunoo yelled and I laughed. 

“I chose his message… sorry boys,” I said and they pouted. 

“Yeah, so I won fair and square,” he said and Jungwon scoffed. “So did Sunghoon yet he’s drawing a punch right now,” he said and I laughed. 

“I owe him a dance,” I said and I was suddenly pulled back with the hands on my hips. 

“Sorry, but you’re mine tonight. I won you with my message… and I want to make up for all the time I’ve lost” he said and I nodded.

“Comfort Sunghoon please?” I asked the two boys and they nodded. 

“I’m guessing you guys are all made up?” I asked and he nodded. 

“Everything is right again… especially my soul that is bound to you” 

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[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c5. The shit plan.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, awful deaths.

song to listen to when reading this: Heartbeat, Childish Gambino.

abstract: hi this is Simon. okay, before you read this, I'm gonna say this once and never repeat it again. maybe she was right. don't tell her I told you, and don't you dare even remember anything I said in this stupid chapter.

He had thought about Jude quite a bit. He knew nothing about her, but she made an impression on him. She was interesting. He wanted to know if she was still angry at him, for what he said. He thought a lot if he had been too rude, and he always settled on a no. He had fun, played a bit, picked a little fight. He was sure she could handle it, she didn't seem like the type to get offended easily. But now he thought about her. He thought about how she was dressed, her grey trousers. He thought about the skin below her ear. That caramel coloured skin. She's from a sunny place. He thought about her hair. He thought about her soft hand against his rough one. Her small hand. Her grip was firm. He thought about her car, used, dirty Volkswagen Polo, dark grey. He saw her driving away from a window that same day. He thought about her eyelashes. He made it a mission to find out things about her. He wanted to know if she still lived in that apartment he saw a year prior, the layout of her house. Did she live alone? Maybe she had a boyfriend. How old was she? Knowing so little about this girl drove him mad. She had an intriguing presence, she was captivating. And she always seemed to crash important events. This time she didn't bother knocking on the briefing room door. She came straight in. This time she really looked like death. All black attire, long black coat that made her shiny blonde locks stand out even more. A doll. With a chainsaw. He had to repress his surprised face when seeing her. And seeing her so mad all the time really reminded him he had never saw her smile, just a little maybe. Price turned his head and he could feel from across the room his captain's heart skip a beat. Jude was the representation of bad news. Her eyes were fiery.

'He didn't show up', she said, not waiting for anyone to speak. In the room, apart from him and the captain, no one knew what the fuck she was on about. Then she looked at him. She looked at him and he tilted his head, he understood that look. 'I told you your plan was shit' look. In the awkward silence, he felt his teammates start to wonder what his business was with her. She wouldn't look away and his lips were starting to form a smile. We could stay like this all day.

'What do you mean he didn't show up?' asked the captain, raising from his chair. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the chairs in the room out the window. She blinked a few times, are we still having this conversation? 'I mean exactly what I said.' She gave them a sarcastic smile. She was annoying, Jesus Christ… 'I mean he was late for the session, I waited 15 minutes alone in my office, called him three times and after another 15 minutes decided I'm going after him. This is what I mean.' She was furious. So stupid. So ignorant. This is what you sign up for working in a male dominated field.

'You're going where?' This was Simon speaking, standing up as well. He earned another glare of contempt from her. 'I'm gonna see what direction he took from the CCTV footage and try to find him, wherever he is. It's what we should have done from the beginning.' She explained. 'We? What's going on?' Johnny stood up from the chair next to him. 'Hi, Jude right? Cool name', he added, not wanting to upset her further. Truth is, no one in the team knew about their plan with Arash, cause it just didn't matter, they had other things to worry about for Christ's sake! She looked around, finally understanding Price didn't tell anyone about their meeting. How could they think this wasn't important? 'Listen', Price began, 'Let's all calm down', he stated, before making his way to Jude, 'I'm gonna send my men, we're gonna find him and we're gonna bring him back, gentlemen!' He turned towards them, trying to regain control of the situation. 'Amir..'

'Arash!' Jude corrected.

'Arash, you're right, Arash Tehrani is probably not far from here, from what we've gathered he has something to do with our missions and why they were ambushed. I've spoken to Jude and suggested we would wait for him to speak to her during therapy and the fact that he hasn't shown up is a clear sign he's out there communicating with the enemy.' Jude was not impressed by his speech and stood with her arms crossed in the corner of the room. She almost caught Simon looking at her. 'Ghost and Gaz, you'll get a car and follow the direction that Arash took, look through the CCTV before you leave…'

Jude interrupted him, and frankly, ha quite hoped she would. 'I'm going with them'. Him and Price spoke at the same time 'You're not'. We're not out here playing spies. She didn't flinch. 'I am! I know my patient, let's say we find him and he's in distress. He doesn't know you, he trusts me. Plus, you owe me cause I was right all this time’. We don't owe you shit Jude, you need to calm down. He hated to admit it, she wasn't totally wrong. News flash, they had guns to defend themselves, but maybe a public space wasn't really the place for a gun fight. It was comic, it was such a weird situation. In all his years in the military he had never experienced something funnier. There was a new addition to the team eh? A stranger, a pretty girl with pretty eyes and very pretty legs that had nothing to do with this mission was going to help them solve the case. Wonderful. Straight out of a movie. He was in a car, his teammate beside him, not even full gear on cause he didn't have time, driving south, through the desert. In the backseat, Jude was sitting quietly like she did a year prior with her hands between her thighs.

Price had agreed, thank God. She had insisted quite a bit, she knew it was dangerous and understood his concern. She wasn't alone, Big Bad Ghost Guy and Handsome Brunette were with her, no? She was gonna be fine. Deep down, she was glad they let her come. They even landed her a bulletproof vest, too big for her torso, but still. She was going to get to the bottom of the situation, she was the one who started the whole investigation in the first place. And if they had listened to her, they would have saved time and probably got Arash already. She was snapped back to reality by Pretty Calvin Klein Model on the front seat. 'I'm Kyle' he offered his hand, turning backwards to face her. 'Jude, nice to meet you', she replied. Simon noticed she smiled. She smiled at Gaz. She shook his hand and smiled. He noticed her soft cheeks and the wrinkles in her forehead smooth in a relaxed expression. 'You're gonna tell us if you see him, 'kay?' he instructed, strapping his vest tighter on his chest. 'Sure'. They were passing by a few shops, some gas stations. 'How long have you been working here?' Gaz was really interested into making conversation hu? Simon was driving silently, his foot lingering on the brakes just in case he spotted something. 'Two years' she replied. Her tone was soft unlike when she had talked to him. Her voice was warm. Not really the time to get to know each other guys. Jude, of all people, you? The super serious psychologist who begged them to bring her on this man hunt, flirting with a soldier from the back of the car? It was me, Simon thought, who you got matching tattoos with in Ibiza. Ridiculous. A well renowned Lieutenant like him, forced to babysit two…

'The car!' screamed Jude, interrupting his train of thoughts. He quickly pulled up at the side of the road, right behind one of the trucks with the base logo imprinted on the back door. They had really found him.

notes: surprise!! it's not Saturday yet, listen to what I thought. Since some chapters are shorter than others, I will just post two times this week, and then keep it one time per week when the chapters are longer, genius.

notes: replies and reblogs are highly appreciated, hope you like this!!

love, mare.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

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[destinygoldenstar]

🍀A Night With Nina🍀 - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 2 Episode 8 “Nightmare At Tipiskaw”

TRIGGER WARNING: BLOOD & GORE

Okay, this italicized part is an EDIT after the reaction. I need to put up a trigger warning for this episode as a reason why I might not show as many images as usual.

I don't think it's as bad as it could've been, otherwise I think OddNation would get demonetized. But to be on the safe side, THIS EPISODE/THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE HEMOPHOBIC.

I WILL put a TW in the tags as well so they don't see the post. But in case your account doesn't have the filter for this sort of thing, HERE'S YOUR WARNING.

Been awhile since the events of my life yaddy yada.

I don't have an intro.

Enjoy the reaction:

OH NO THE GO KARTS ARE BACK XD

Those karts are gonna be the DEATH of someone. I swear.

They almost killed a kid once.

"I'm the one who does the accounting. Remember?"

YOU?!

So that's where our taxes go...

"Because if I do it, I would be admitting that I was wrong!"

Dang. She's a brat.

But I get why. So I'm interested.

Oh the doll is recapping XD

Okay I like that. That's a good twist and shake up.

OH CHRIST

OH THAT ACTUALLY JUMPSCARED ME. OH MY GOD.

THIS DOLL'S GONNA KILL EVERYONE, I SWEAR.

"In fact, I was thinking of getting a tattoo when this is all over."

Okay, Lake, honey, I think that's going too far.

WAIT WHOA WHAT

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT?!

WHAT?! THERE WAS NO BUILD UP!!

"Attention campers, an immunity totem has been hidden somewhere in the camp!"

An idol is back?

T h e i d o l s a r e b a c k . . . ?

WELL THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET FROM THE AUDIENCE.

What was the point of keeping it a secret from the audience?

I WOULD'VE LOVED TO KNOW ROSA HAD AN IDOL.

I-

I'm losing my mind already.

Just by LOOKING at an idol. I lose it.

I'm going to abstract. I have PTSD with idols now.

GET THAT IDOL OUT OF MY FACE!!!

"I found the totem minutes before the queens challenge started."

Wasn't Riya with you? Shouldn't Riya already know about this?

Considering, you know:

"You had a couple of hours to find the totem, and just minutes before the challenge started, it was finally found."

Wait what?

We didn't see who had it?

Are they keeping it a secret on who found it?

KRYSTAL SAID THAT. I REMEMBER IT.

I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER IT BECAUSE I REACTED TO THAT LINE.

Riya should already know. Right?

Unless she's secretly planning to steal it.

OH GOD THE COUNTER IS BACK.

STEAL THE IDOL FROM ROSA

NO SHE HEARD ME.

She's like "Yeah Rosa. Bold of you to trust me with that info. Not like I could think strategically, see you and Lake are threats, and steal that idol from you to dump your asses! I AM A FAMOUS AC-TOUR AND I WILL NOT BE INTIMIDATED BY POWER!"

Why did I say that with a British accent? SHE'S INDIAN. COME ON ME.

I'm sorry for the disrespect, Riya! You can slay! This is my way of saying sorry, queen!

I love Rosa and don't want anyone to slay her, but I'm also like "DO IT YOU WON'T. DO IT YOU WON'T."

"I was searching with Rosa that day, and now that Lake is in the alliance is when she decides to reveal that she found the totem?! Why didn't she tell me before?! Does she not trust me?"

EXACTLY. THEY'RE ADDRESSING THIS.

Now Riya thinks her only 'friend' is going to blindside her and backstab her and leave her behind.

MAYBE YOUR PROBLEMS WOULD BE SOLVED IF YOU STOLE THE IDOL? HMMM? JUST A SUGGESTION?

"Maybe we should have focused that afternoon on the game so we go far together."

UH, YEAH, THAT WAS ON YOU GUYS.

Are they better or worse than Reality TV's Stupidest Alliance? I can't tell. But that's up there.

DON'T BLAME TESS FOR ANYTHING. SHE CHOSE TO ACCEPT HER FATE.

BLAME ANYONE, BLAME THESE GUYS.

"Meet me at the race track in fifteen minutes."

UH, SIR. I DON'T THINK THAT'S FIFTEEN MINUTES.

"Sorry for the wait, Marcus had a little accident."

DID THE DOLL KILL HIM?!

I can believe that, actually.

"I am more than happy to invite all of you to my fun game."

OH NO IT'S SAW

"Have you already forgotten that the puppet spoke when I held it?"

"I'm pretty sure that thing is a demon that's gonna kill us."

"Best thing is to ignore all of that and enjoy this night off."

Rosa, I love you, but you have a death wish.

"Let's go to the lake to see the stars."

"Great idea, Lake!"

Ah, AH? I get the pun.

"But first, I'm going to take a shower."

Well, we know who's dead.

"How about we watch... a horror movie?"

James, you secretly enjoy this, don't you?

OH NO AND THEN HE PUTS AN ARM AROUND HIM...

AND THEN THE CREEPY MUSIC PLAYS?!

LIKE GOD, YOU CAN'T NOT TELL ME THAT MAKES THE GESTURE SINSTER!

"Maybe when we're done and you're scarred, we can go behind the bushes and MAKE LOOOOOVEEEE..."

"HASHTAG EXPLICIT AO3 FANFICTION!! FOR THE GAY SERVICE!"

James. You make me uncomftorable.

OH GOD SHE IS A DEMON. SHE HAS HIM CAPTIVE.

I don't like how he's tied up...

XD

Okay that bitch slap got a laugh out of me. XD

Why is the popcorn already in the pan like that?

If it was left out there, I don't want to eat it.

"I'm following you."

XD

Okay, my brain went to, "I'm following you... ON INSTAGRAM!"

And James reaction is, "Oh neat! You follow me on Instagram? Great!"

PLEASE tell me that's the joke!

"Ew. Another follower who gets my number."

Oh... close enough.

"Do you like them better than your boyfriend Aiden?"

Why do you care about that?! Hello?! ANOTHER predator?

"He's not my boyfriend..."

Oh really? So what was the kiss? What was the attitude? What's with sleeping together? THESE AREN'T FRIENDLY GESTURES MATE.

This man's a predator, I swear to god...

You know what? GET HIM SERIAL KILLER.

Man, if only Yul was still here. Then I could watch hm get killed.

That would've been an excuse to keep him, at least.

OH JESUS CHRIST. WTF?!

I DIDNT EXPECT THAT. HOLY SHIT

HE ACTUALLY DIED?!?!?

Oh shit…

IS THIS VR AGAIN?! IS THAT WHAT THIS IS?! HUH?!

That's actually creepy holy shit...

Why does that remind me of something from FNAF?

Okay, why are we watching her shower? Come on now. We know she's dead.

Yep. There we go.

Bye Allyson.

RULE NUMBER ONE OF SURVIVING A HORROR MOVIE, NEVER TAKE A SHOWER.

GOOD THING THE SERIAL KILLER WAS NICE ENOUGH TO PUT A TOWEL AROUND HER XD

THAT'S NICE OF THEM.

Why was she wearing shoes in the shower?

"That puppet..."

Okay I know he's supposed to be angry, but he said that so DEADPANNED and I cant take it seriously.

Welp, Hunter's dead.

The doll just killed him herself XD

Oh you poor, poor, stupid boy.

The best girls can take em!

OH GOD

HEEEEEERRE'S JOHNNY!!

NO RIYA!! NOT THE QUEEN!!

"Do you know how to start the car without keys?"

"Yes, and don't ask me how."

Oh geez, Rosa. How many crimes did you commit for your child?

"You're going to be screwed for what you did, bastard!"

YES. SLAY QUEEN. AVENGE YOUR QUEEN.

LET ROSA COOK.

ROSA NO DON'T STAY BEHIND. NO QUEEN! DON'T!

"I grew up in a neighborhood where seeing assholes with weapons threatening others was the daily norm."

Geez, what a backstory. BEFORE DEATH.

HOW IS ROSA SO GOOD?

NOOO ROSA!!!!

YES LAKE!!! FIGHT EM!!! SAVE YOURSELF!!!

GET OUT, QUEEN!!!

OH SHE'S GOT EM

"That's for attacking my friends!"

"Auf Wiedersehen."

Guys? Lake is AWESOME? THE HELL?

NOOOO LAKE!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!

Oh they're alive.

I mean I knew it. Still. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE WITHOUT VR?!

I'm so confused.

BRUH. SHE'S NAKED STILL.

This is kinda uncomftorable

"Ketchup?"

Okay but why play dead though? I don't get it.

"Tranquilizers?"

Oh okay.

I still don't get it.

WAIT WHAT THE HELL?! HELLO?!

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE. WHAT THE HELL?!

WHY ARE YOU BACK?! WHY'D YOU AGREE TO DO THIS?

"But the producers gave me the opportunity to get back in the game if I cooperated for a challenge."

She's back?!

WHY ARE YOU BACK?

I didn't want her back. WHY?

"I hope that from now on, we can get along."

YOU KILLED EVERYONE.

"She also has immunity for her and two people of her choosing."

What? Come on now. Are you kidding me?

"Sorry guys, but the immunities go to Ally and Hunter."

Of course. I kinda figured.

IT'S PLOT ARMOR. IT'S BLATANT PLOT ARMOR.

They didn't even win. But the game became RIGGED to keep them around.

"We will have to vote for one of the girls. There is no other option."

BULLSHIT. LAKE WAS ROBBED.

TWICE.

"Which one would you vote for?"

"Lake?"

And now they're gonna boot her.

GODDAMMIT.

"I think we'll be voting for different people at this ceremony."

WELP. So James is screwed. Bye James.

"And as if that weren't enough problems already, Karol returned who hates us!"

"I mean she KILLED us for crying out loud!"

"I was the one who accused her in front of everyone."

And yet you take this so casually that you're gone tonight as a result?

"Of course I remember, and not once have I seen her blame you for it."

I mean, she should. He outted his own plan in front of her.

"She went to me! Only to me! She called me a traitor and she wants me out of the game!"

Really? Where was that scene?

"I hope you leave soon, Aiden! You are a traitor!"

🙄

James makes Aiden's life worse. I swear.

OH GOD.

KAROL JUMPSCARE.

"Aiden, calm down. I will not vote for you, nor for James, so don't worry, okay?"

Oh? Why?

"I'm just trying to turn the page and start over."

Are you serious? I can't tell if she's honest or not.

"But my therapist says that resentment is a drag on the road to recovery."

Oh. Maybe she is serious.

"How about Lake? There are already two challenges that she was very close to winning."

And the game was RIGGED AGAINST MY QUEEN.

Doesn't matter though, cause Rosa has an idol and can play it on Lake.

"I wanted to propose that we vote together in this ceremony."

Oh god no...

Riya the traitor?

STEAL THE IDOL YOU WON'T. STEAL IT YOU WON'T.

"Hmmm, who would it be?"

And the fact that she's intrigued.

The worst part is that it's not actually a bad strategic move. James's only lifeline is Aiden, and Aiden is a damn floater who would crumble without him. And if Hunter and Allyson are gonna work with her to take out two bigger threats, then...

Shit...

"Well, if what Ally said is true, Lake could be voted out tonight. I could tell Rosa to save her with her totem, but I have to think if that's really what I want..."

Oh so this is a test for Riya.

Friends or money? Hmmm...

"If someone has an immunity totem and wants to play it, now is the time to do it."

Ooh...

COME ON. PLAY IT. PLAY IT.

PLAY THE IDOL!!!

"Well, no one, so lets read the votes."

GODDAMMIT NOOOOO

'JAMES'

I hope it's James. Honestly.

'RIYA'

Wh-who voted Riya?

GODDAMMIT AIDEN. YOU DOOMED LAKE BY DOING THAT.

'LAKE'

There it is.

'JAMES'

'LAKE'

'JAMES'

Oh? Riya didn't flip? Or is that Karol?

'LAKE'

OH GOD NO...

NOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT!!!!

WITH AN IDOL SHE HAD ACCESS TO AS WELL. THAT'S THE WORST.

GIRLIE WAS ROBBED. SHE SHOULD'VE WON THAT IMMUNITY.

"Lake... it can't be."

DON'T ACT SURPRISED. YOU THREW YOUR VOTE.

YOU COULD'VE MADE IT A TIE. JUST SAYING.

"So sad you have to go, Lake."

That sounded so fake.

"Oh no... who could've predicted this? Sooooo saaaaaaaddd... Here's my sad face of pity.😪"

That's a better Indian accent I guess. I'm not good at Indian accents, I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry, Lake. I should have used the totem to save you."

Yeah. You should've.

"Now I am free, thanks to you."

Awwwww.

"I love you, Rosa."

"Awwww, I love you too."

AWWWWWW, MOTHER DAUGHTER

Riya's like "Uh... YEAH... I love you too Lake... no I didn't betray you what are you talking about?"

That was Episode 8.

GODDAMMIT LAKE NOOOO.

Lake was robbed. I will not be convinced otherwise. That was a very unfair elimination.

Karol's back. And... nice now? Even though she killed everyone? Idk.

I don't know why she's here.

Rosa has an idol. Riya decided to be a dirty traitor.

Which I'm intrigued by.

I made a JOKE in a previous reaction. Idk which one. About Riya being the evil queen. DID I CALL IT?

We'll see. Idk yet. But that's funny if I DID call it.

I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUT THE BEST GIRLS IN THE HEADING.

Hunter and Allyson officially have plot armor. You can't convince me otherwise.

STEAL THE IDOL RIYA. YOU WON'T. DO IT YOU WON'T.

[brockitty-goober]

The Amazing Digital Circus: Abstractional Power AU MASTERPOST 💗💗

i actually hate the name ‘Abstractional power’ but like.. it’s too late now 🥲🫠

I haven’t finished all the refs! but here you go :) :

I’m not Gangle x Zoobleing i swear

about this AU:

this AU is called a theater, yes, but I guess a jester and a ringmaster, a rag doll and a king, etc.- they don’t really fit in. It’s kind of a theatre, not really though I kinda just liked the name 🫥

I would love to make a separate AU with an actual theatre though,, DONT STEAL MY IDEA JUST YET,,,

Caine only has his eyes for show- so he can act like he’s really just one of them, still vulnerable. He can’t be abstracted even without the eyes.

who was the old ringmaster before caine?.. extra/secret/later/abstracted characters will go down here after they appear in the comic!

part 1

[6okuto]

NIA THAT WAS AMAZING TY FOR ANSWERING MY KEIJI ASK 🫶🫶 and that bkak comic was so cute !!! pls tell me all ur thoughts on them Please 🙏 would love u forever if u did

Thank U Anon. love u. they're just niacore... the fluff! the humour! knowing each other completely! unwavering support! inspiring each other to be better! my cat and dog! ☹️

they're both vry comforting and lovely 2 me albeit in different ways, so Together. . .Wow. W-O-W. Stars Align Worlds Collide Heaven On Earth. put me in coach. furudate wrote them 4 me specifically 🫂

bkak hcs bkak hcs ouaghhh!!!

first and foremost. bkak rescued a cat together. Walk with me. the story me and my irl (summer) concocted long ago is that they saw a cat in a parking lot late at night and got vry worried !! bokuto is more outwardly panick-y and akaashi gets him to calm down (devastated inside) so they can run to the nearest pet store to get food... they go through the whole process of checking for a name tag + going to the vet etc but in the end !! they adopt the kitty!! YAAAY!! we never picked a gender or name or what it looks like or anything. i will have 2 ask my irls for ideas... if u have any Lmk.

^ they spoil the cat sooo much. SOO much the first day it's at their house they just watch as it explores and take so many pics... get a comfy bed and cat tree and treats and toys yeahhh spoiled baby. i know they were giggling over it having one of their last names btw. I KNOWWW 🙁

i really love the idea of bkak thrifting for home decor together actually. because u know they're gonna get something silly.. maybe start a little animal sculpture collection... a piece of abstract art they discussed for 15 minutes because bokuto swears he can see a giraffe in it and akaashi is stuck squinting confused. their place is really quite nice but there's these little things around!

bokuto asking akaashi to kiss him after each workout set as motivation 🥹 akaashi asking for a kiss after he's done reviewing another chapter 🥹

we must allow akaashi keiji to be a little weird. a silly boyfailure. WE MUSTTT WE MUST!!! bokuto knows this better than anyone... leans into akaashi's weird shirts and looks out for them when he's on trips... akaashi says something just so incoherent while he's tired and bokuto acts as a translator and or rubs his shoulders and chides him for staying up so late... yeah.

i know akaashi cooks for bokuto in the comic but 🥹🥹 bokuto trying to cook for akaashi as a surprise... puts on an apron, watches videos, reads recipes like he takes it Seriously! tries so hard and even asks osamu for help, so even if it isn't the best in the world akaashi thinks he might cry like omg 🙁

i think i've said this here before but. akaashi has so much access to official bokuto merch y'know. he's kou's #1 supporter fr fr and when kou gets him stuff for free he's like !!!! BUT! no akaashi merch :( ? this is devastating for bokuto... what does he do ? get custom pieces made of course. the pride and giddiness on his face while he wears his new sweater with akaashi's name. keiji's face is so red. BOKUTO GETTING A KEIJI DOLL. "now make them hold hands" "now kiss" yeahvyeah yehnayeau

akaashi broke his glasses once by accidentally falling asleep with them on so when bokuto notices he takes them off for him! and carries him to bed obviously.

rent a boyfriend with Bokuaka. Walk With Me. it truly works either way and in so many scenarios... one needs a date to a wedding? one was told to do so by a friend? one was drunk and said fuck it? the butterflies and tension... the confusion... being closer than they would be with a regular client... bumping into each other on a regular day... I love u bokuaka.

touches water and watches it ripple... bokuto inviting akaashi to play volleyball with him.... it's been ages since keiji's gotten to set... but then bokuto spikes and they remember what it felt like to play together.. and and amdnanffnff

here's translated versions of bkak letters that someone wrote. I actually felt my chest cave in before i found out it was a threadfic. IT HURTSOSBAD

and here's a bunch of art. for u. for me.

Twitter user 45__kk Means The World To Me. here are a few posts: one two three four five six. i could keep going. 45__KK U MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!!

this and this changed my lifoie.r. Thiswchsngemfylfirnd. and this

any art where akaashi wears bokuto's jersey... < This changed mylifr. It's over. Everybody Go Home. this one specifically has changed me forever. no joke. NOjoek. Ouggnggngn

MY LEG 😭

this video means the world to me. really anything where akaashi goes to bokuto for a hug. any. an. pelaspe.

MY FAWKING LEG

this art shifted something inside my soul 4ever

it can't be overstated what chengongzi123 has done for me. they don't do a lot of bkak anymore but they've changed my life forever. here's some: one two three four five six seven (< college au..)

i also love GyappiM... many sketches. Love my life. one two three

BARBIE! adore this artist too.

CATS 😭😭🫶🫶 national cat day.. Best day ever. MY BOKUAKA. yeah. can't scroll down enough on my twt to get more butbyeahh.

[lalunanymph]

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 — 𝐡. 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮

let my demons finally drown / let my body turn to stone / let my heart fill all the holes / that spread across all your skin / i'm so lovely / at making destructive decisions

tw. drug abuse, injuries to the reader, nightmares, injuries, swearing, past mistakes

a/n. had to get this out of my system bc damn sanzu didn't do anything wrong and the fact that he had such a bad childhood makes me want to wrap him up in a big hug that would probably end up with my guts spilling all over the floor + also this is officially the song for sanzu when he falls in love with us idk i don't make the rules

Haruchiyo Sanzu was a timebomb waiting to explode.

Ticking seconds, fast clicking minutes—one could never be certain of the potency of his next blowup and how far the radius of his destruction would carry.

It was probably two in the morning when you heard the sniffles, the low whimpers. Sanzu always slept like a log beside you, but something was different tonight.

Different because the man you had been seeing for the past three months was tossing and turning, low gurgles slipping past his scarred mouth and tears slipping down his cheeks like a free flow of diamonds.

You sat up when you fully realized what was happening; shaking him awake. Ice blue eyes rolled open and like the sun unfurling from its last bindings of night, they widened, the impressive graininess of his face sharpening to lucidity. Sanzu has always been a force to reckon and in this instance, he had all the grace of a tornado swirling through the room. The sheer magnificence gripped you by the throat as you watch him throw himself from the bed to chase a bottle of pills down to an abyss of discordance that would be louder than the memories burning behind his closed and wet lids.

Three—four pills clatter like constellations on his outstretched palm; a supernova waiting to devour him whole. He doesn’t count. He doesn’t need to.

You, on the other hand, measure every white circle with the same abhorrence an architect would have at the possibility of their prized creation falling apart in guaranteed destruction. For it will be guaranteed after he swallows them; after he is lost to the world.

“Haru, no—“

“Go back to sleep, doll.” His voice is rough, scratchy with unused emotions. “I’ll be there in a bit.”

He tipped his head back, ready to receive the first stirrings of ecstasy on his tongue when a hand wrapped around his wrist. In his surprise, the pills scatter to the floor; an angled abstraction from the denied hallucinations he yearned for like how a child would chase after a mother’s touch.

“Haru—“

You don’t speak. You can’t speak.

A perforating pain unlike any other sears through your side and you find yourself face down on the floor, palms catching on the hardwood. A merciless cry ripped past your lips and you instinctively lifted your arms to cover your head, the fear a second nature that seeped in like unwanted poison through your veins.

Tension spun around like finely fractured mirror shards, throwing light upon the horror in his eyes and the tremble on his lower lip.

“Y/N—“

Alone without another breath to expel, you stand, holding onto the bruising skin and the edge of the table that had partly caused it, as if it would fasten the lock that would keep you from falling apart. “Get out.”

“Doll—“

Your ears were bleeding with the agony of his excuses waiting to be embedded like thorns into your tender side. Your tongue was nothing more than an open wound and you dropped your face, unable to speak beyond get out, get out of my apartment, leave me alone, leave me alone, Haruchiyo.

The sound of his name—always a healing incantation coming from your lips—was now twisted and corrupted into a heinous monster, one that he finds no similarities with.

Like a little boy, he ran from you, hiding his shaky hands in his pockets, covering the tingling chokes that touch the throbbing scars around his mouth with the fabric of the black mask a ghost of his past once gave him. The imprints of the nightmares hold no candle to the horror that had just unfurled before him.

A ticking time bomb. That was what the shattered reflection in the mirror told him. But to you, he was the easing current of passing gentleness; a roof over a flashing storm; man and monster in one.

And like the worst draft of cold, he had stopped your carefree cadence into freezing debilitation.

No matter how much he willed time to consume him, to let him slip past its wicked undertow and back into the hereafter of your arms, it was never a jest companion. And time never gave you back.

Weeks passed without your name on his phone or between his teeth. He barely saw through faded blue lenses, always hoping, yearning, aching—

“Just talk to her.” A voice of reason in his deceitful fugue. Kakucho looked at him with tedious pity and Haruchiyo almost wanted to gouge his good eye out for even bestowing such sympathy onto a wrecked shadow of a man such as himself.

Instead, he held in his anger, clipped steps taking him to the nearest cemetery where he scooped up a burgeoning burst of pink that was left in the memorandum to a lost soul; now meant for his debasing exoneration from your harsh silence.

He had no excuse to return to your apartment; a no man's land that had a wider choice of directions to which his stumbling lost could never find a foot in. The knocks echoed—boom, boom, boom. But, no other breathing could be uncovered beyond his own.

Haruchiyo slammed his fist onto the hard barrier, hoping that by some miracle, you would be appeased and recall his presence and he would be graced by your smile. Your touch, your sweet scent.

(Has it all been a nightmare?)

Nothing brought you back to him. A blank end where every flitting burst of light from the overhead fluorescent lamp showed him the scars to his future. A coming of time where the seed of eloquence and warmth he planted in your hearth, mind, and body would wither and he would be faced with the deadened fields of his own misdoing.

His one chance to reach out to you was bleeding, as was his heart and eyes when he came to terms that you had meant what you said. That you wanted him gone.

It would’ve been better had you not been born. The voices flashed in his mind with a desolate timber, one that reeked of cigarette smoke and sanguine liquid dripping from the gunshot lodged almost tenderly into his sister’s chest.

The monsters loomed, not from the corridors of this low-cost hole but in the recesses of his mind; taunting and teasing him with all the sharpness of a broken toy’s wing.

“Y/N! Please, open the door,” he begged and pleaded, the flowers withering in his hands kindling a flame to his roaring, flayed soul. “Y/N! I’m sorry, okay? Please let me in. I don’t want to fight anymore. I need you. I… I miss you.”

The door cracked open and he was ready to fall onto his knees, every neuron in his addled brain rejoicing when the figure he so desperately craved to set his eyes on was smaller and stared up at him with wide open curiosity.

“Can I help you, mister?”

A boy—not much older than ten—gazed up at him with perturbed green eyes. Eyes he had never seen in his life. Anger coursed through him, hot and fresh and he almost lunged at the door, the betrayal coating his chest like a second skin yearning to be set aflame. Did you have a son and did not tell him? Did you lie to him?

But, all that came out from his ruptured throat was, “Y/N?”

“Miss Y/N?” the boy confirmed and gestured to the other door next to his. “She lives there.”

A ring of light reignited back in his soul and he thought he would have known where to find you just from thinking it over, but the drugs were a powerful persuasive force that was hellbent on barring him from you.

“Did you make her mad?”

Haruchiyo stopped in his tracks and bestowed his icy blue eyes onto a pair of curious, world-less ones. “Hey, kid. Let me tell you something.” A deep inhale. “Don’t ever do drugs in your life, okay? And don’t ever hurt a woman. S’not fucking worth it.” He doesn’t know why, but the words he yearned to hang upon your wall became a performer for this child instead, flowing outward with the ease of an unblocked current. “When you find someone worthy to keep in your life, make sure you hold onto them tightly and never let go, ‘kay? Don’t make the same fucking mistakes I did, kid.”

“You know, you’re not supposed to swear in front of children.”

His heart that had been dyed a monotone neutral lept into a universe of multi-colors at the cadence of your tone and he chanced upon your silhouette, a ghost of a smile tugging the corners of your lips.

He had longed to look at you, a lone key waiting for the lock to turn. Sanzu always sensed that tenderness and rot shared a border, the former a decaying force whose iridescence marked every chapter of his life. Despite how intimately he was acquainted with both of them, one was the corruption of everything he held holy and the other was his salvation in the form of your sparkling eyes.

Sanzu picked himself from the cold ground, a lump in his throat. You said no more and allowed him to enter your home, departing a friendly wave to the boy next door and closing the world off from the firm tension in this apartment.

You don’t get a chance to speak when his knees hit the ground and he shuffles over to you, arms wrapping around your waist and face pressed to the softness of your belly. All the mistakes he had made turned over in his muddled mind till he could no longer poke his eyes open to unearth the bitter taste of injustices that have been a constant companion to his weary soul since he was a young boy.

“I’m so sorry.” In this instance, he can’t even recall how those looming, gigantic judges appear, only cognizant of the film of tears in your eyes. Nothing seemed to bring back to him the throbbing memories of the past beyond the present and his future standing before him, silent and unmoving.

Like nails to a chalkboard, he expected you to devour him apart with your fury, but your hands burned away the flood that was threatening to swallow him; it would’ve been easy—like the same film over and over again—to evoke the rushing resentment.

But, you did neither of that.

“Don’t hurt me again.”

“Promise,” a scratchy ache redolent of a time when he was younger and had sworn to keep his severed lips shut to avoid a place between regret and warning. “I promise I will never hurt you again.”

Trembling fingers lifted the hem of your shirt where cold lips pressed to the disgustingly yellow bruise, kissing it down to the last of his digit’s imprints on the marred skin and he wept; wishing that the reel of his memories would cease and nothing could make them come to light ever again.

Your touch was gentle and almost careful, carding through his hair, glittering with forgiveness.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

You picked up the shambled remnants of a lost little boy that merged together with the outline of a man who thought himself to be unsalvageable and glued his jagged ends together again.

All with a sweet smile and a honeyed voice. “Let’s put this behind us, Haruchiyo.”

The thick smog clinging around his throat from the 120 hours you had spent away from him gave way and he choked out, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Haru.”

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost

[watching-pictures-move]

Put On Your Raincoats | Between the Cheeks 2 (Dark, 1990)

In my review of the first Between the Cheeks, I noted that while objectification of women is unavoidable in straight pornography, I was put off by that movie’s refusal to define its female characters by anything other than the acts they performed in their sex scenes. This one is similarly objectifying, but at least it gives actual speaking parts to women outside the sex scenes. Maybe this speaks to my low standards for the genre in this respect, especially a production from the ‘90s when porn was getting a lot pornier, but I think that element goes a long way in alleviating my issues with the first movie. In both movies, the sex scenes are connected with goofy overarching framing devices, but the vibe here is a less demeaning towards the women, and more self-deprecating. We get a pimp telling us about his pimping philosophy ( "If you can't marry big money, this is the next best thing", "All I know is there's a lot of money to be made, and what better person to make it than me?"), only for him to be revealed as a mental patient convinced that the anus is where the soul lives. (He tells another patient played by Tom Byron not to go to the bathroom because his soul will leak out.)

Naturally what follows are a bunch of scenes that, as you can guess from the title, emphasize the “soul”, by which I mean anal sex. Now, without getting too graphic, I must note that there are two instances where, how do I say, the geography of the scene doesn’t make sense. In both scenes, let’s say that one thing is happening near the woman’s head, and another thing is happening near her waist, and the way the movie cuts between both occurrences suggests that they did not happen to her at the same time, despite them being presented as such. In most other pornos, I would chalk this up to technical sloppiness, but as this is a Gregory Dark movie, I suspect it might have been deliberate, a way to rub it in our face that people are watching this for one reason (except me, I’m watching it for intellectual reasons, I swear), and that logic or realism don’t matter, just keep the close-ups flowing. And I must concede that he probably has a point with this, given that the sex scenes here are consistently energetic and nicely complemented by the hard rock soundtrack. Given that the first one starred Ginger Lynn, it might be blasphemy to say this, but I thought the sex scenes in this one were way hotter across the board. (I should note that I’ve yet to be sold on Ginger Lynn, but have positive feelings about a few of the performers here, like Tianna, Bionca and Nikki Wilde, whose involvement in Party Doll A Go-Go! will always give them a place in my heart.)

I also think Dark’s deliberately cheap production design works a lot better here, as it allows the mise en scene to feel abstracted and stylish in ways that mesh nicely with the intensity of the action. (A frantic lesbian scene set on a pile of garbage feels anything but grimy.) I suspect the more purposeful use of lighting and colour play a role, as I recall the original had a consistently unappealing colour scheme. Dark also repurposes the interview framing device from his Devil in Miss Jones movies, but the effect is more obviously comedic, with characters offering alternating assessments of the hero’s character.

"I always thought he'd be a great science fiction writer"

"He was a real pervert, a sicko."

"He was a really nice guy. Warm, kind, loving"

Add to that a bunch of psychotronic montages, a steady stream of psychobabble and some amusingly daffy sex scenes (a guy dressed as a duck making quacking noises, a gangbang with aliens in tinfoil hats, bibs and speedos), and you have yourself a good time.

And for completist reasons, I also watched Between the Cheeks 3, which sadly was not stylized as B3TW33N TH3 CH33KS (the 3s would denote its place in the series, while also resembling the body part of interest). This one followed in the kooky vein of the second, but with a more repetitive framing device, slacker pacing and more generic soundtrack, I found it a lot less entertaining. I did laugh however when Brittany O’Connell, as the hero’s psychiatrist, diagnoses him with “rectal dementia”, which he imagines she treats with a threesome with two guys who come out of a giant beanbag anus, only for her to inform him that he had “a dream within a dream”. So there’s at least one good scene.

[adelar-ward]

I recreated the dorm from @hpowellsmith game “Creme de la creme” exactly as it looks in my head, and i’m very pleased with myself, yay! Locations i read about are never abstract for me, i always have a strong and consistent visual in my head, and i'm always happy to share it. It was before i realized that the bedroom is actually upstairs, oops.

So, each dorm is suited for 6 students. Six beds, six night lamps over them, six wardrobes (sorry for weird shadows, they're of the same color i swear). But either other dorms were full, or they were too empty, or lady R thought “oh well, it’s just for a few days anyway”, and they brought the 7th bed, placed it near the door, and assigned it to Blaise.

Beds assignment:

1. The one by the window is Saeran’s (my MC). What a pity that Blaise didn't want to share it, Saeran totally would. They don’t have many things in the open (also i couldn’t find anything fitting) but they do have a locket that has a sentimental value.

2. Beds that were pushed together are Delacroix’s (closest to MC) and Max’s. They gave one nightstand to Blaise and are using another one together. A lot of Delacroix’s magicional mysterical spellthingies on it, and they left a voodoo doll on the bed. Max’s things are disorderly stuffed inside the nightstand, also she smuggled a bottle of wine into the room and hid it from Hartmann behind Delacroix’s bed. When they'll empty it, they'll play spin the bottle.

3. The next one is Hartmann’s. His things are neatly packed in baskets under his bed and inside the nightstand, and an open journal that is perfectly lined up with the tabletop is the biggest mess he can afford. As a prefect, he should probably argue about Max and Delacroix pushing their beds together, but he doesn’t press the matter because he actually appreciates a little more distance from others, with all this stressed crying that he tries to pretend isn’t happening. Also, it’s probably pointless.

4. Poor Blaise who has nightmares didn’t even get a night lamp. I wanna throw fists for my baby. Also after Saeran shared their bed with Hartmann on winter holidays and woke up with numb limbs because these beds are too tiny for two people, they said "i think Max was onto something here, let's do the same and make ourselves comfortable" and pushed the spare bed to Hartmann's.

5. The bed by the second window is Freddie’s. He has cute postcards from younger siblings, a letter from moms, and a bottle of cough medicine sent by moms just in case. And a teddy bear because he’s a pure cinnamon roll. He does have a lot of books, but they’re inside the nightstand.

6. The utter mess and chaos next to Freddie belong to Gonzalez. She has Everything Everywhere, driving everyone in the room mad. A medal and cups for lacrosse, a picture of a team together, and a lot of stuff she only bothers tidying when others start yelling.

I’m painfully limited by sims furniture that is mostly modern and i can’t take decent interior pictures for the life of me, but i’m still happy because i looove creating visuals for characters and locations and sharing them with others.

I wasn't able to take a photo of a common room that will show the layout, so here's a pic from the ceiling.

If someone sees this, how did you imagine the dorm?

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Fire n Gold

Fire n Gold by allnamesitriedweretaken

The wall immediately to his right may as well be a giant bookshelf, with dozens of titles in just as many languages. They walk past short aisles filled with everything one could think of in terms of vintage items, photographs, dolls, postcards, jewelry, and one-of-a-kind oddities, reaching the cashier counter near the glass doors of the entrance, which was obscured from outside by a pretty, abstract noren he could swear looked hand-painted. The wall behind the counter was filled with an assortment of masks, intricate mirrors, and paintings, and Izuku would be almost tempted to say the shop looks like one of the tourist traps he'd seen before in Tokyo if it wasn't for the feeling of other that hung around the room from the moment he walked into it.

A chance encounter with a kind stranger tilts two destinies slightly to the left, maybe just enough that their paths are fated to intertwine, and there are more kinds of power on earth than those you can be born with.

Words: 4927, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Merlin (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko, Bakugou Katsuki, Original Characters

Relationships: Merlin (Merlin) & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, Minor or Background Relationship(s)

Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, Bullied Midoriya Izuku, Bully Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, He doesn't get one, but he does get something, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Aliases, Minor Injuries, Izuku's Elementary School Sucks Just as Much as Aldera, Minor Original Character(s), they're not even fully original, I just stole some kids from his middle school, but they're barely relevant anyway, Worldbuilding, just a little bit, One Shot, Concept Story, Quirkless Discrimination, implied, Neglected Midoriya Izuku, Magic Is a Thing, Work Up For Adoption

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43700992

[paneerlajwanti]

please rant about your characters

i often think about how i came to create my characters. we call them original characters, but this originality, what makes it one of a kind? arent we all just blenders and mosaics of what we want and who we could be? of the people we loved and the places we found home? its in there. its all just lives woven together to form a being.

a heart too big that wants to be loved, or a heart that just pumps blood pretty regularly. palms with lines taking you some place, ornate rings on a finger that probably mean something, or hands that are just waiting to be held.

i think about how seemingly trivial details like a spiral bound notebook, reruns of an old show, an abandoned gmail account, a broken earring, and a shared waffle, and a beautiful nightmare could be the first domino to create these characters in my head who (obviously live rent free) let me love more, let me learn more, let me accept myself more, and understand myself more. its wonderful.

actual rant below. its going to be a long one. sorry. you dont have to read if you dont want to.

_____________________________________________________________

im just using this as an opportunity to actually do something about these characters, because a google doc scares me. i will actually rant about them here. that above was like the summary and abstract that you find on a back cover of a book that convinces you to buy the book and now this is the part where you read and are like confused about the iq of the author because how can someone yearn so hard but also have like half a braincell. hmm lets begin. god bless. xoxo.

ahaana & ashok:

author's note: well they are my first two characters were created as pure coping mechanism, i swear to god. its insane about how stupid how they came to be. ahaana and ashok (along with my online friends and fandom) were the only things that helped me get through 2017-19. they're like pretty close to my heart. i don't actually end up writing much, i don't need to, but in my head, im like a three year old in a play area. im in a doll house. ahaana and ashok are having the time of their lives with the kitchen set and they're playing doctor doctor. i don't need to write about them. i find comfort when im in that zone with them. that's cool.

description, stories and character studies:

ahaana is passionate, determined, and she is tough. she adapts to what life throws at her and it only makes her kind. she's my baddie. i loved how i fell in love with her character over the years, or her personality. she's my strongest babygirl. she dances. she is powerful with her speech. ahaana is my type. i shall not elaborate.

ashok, on the other hand, little shit, was literally created only to love ahaana. like ahaana was my first character ever. and then poof ashok popped up. i didn't even deal with him for months. for like the longest time, his designated role and duties were literally hashtag love ahaana. but oh oh oh my god, the way i projected on this lil shit. creating ashok has been the most healing thing ever. i was able to find comfort in myself when i thought of ashok. whenever i went story mode, ashok is whom i identify with, the character i root for and the person i relate to. he's precious. ashok is me. ashok is the character i project on.

ashika & lover boi (advait):

author's note: the second two characters were half loosely based on this insane beautiful/ish nightmare i had over a year ago. i woke up at 4:45 AM and had to rush to the phone and record it or talk to someone about it before it all flew away. it actually was insane. and i think its the only dream i have so much memory of. even now. i remember sending @cynicalities and @dragonwillow twenty two minute voicenotes talking about it. i do realize this is all an unintentional alliteration. i didn't choose their names to begin from the same letter lmaoo, but i guess i do have a story for choosing every name and its pretty sweet.

description, stories and character studies:

ashika feels like home. the kind of person who you would end up talking to on your bus ride home. im just gonna give you vibes. crayon drawings on the fridge magnet. a cup of hot chocolate and a hug from a friend. she loves to create ashika is the kind of person i want to be.

advait is the person whom i would fall in love with.

dakshayani & ratna:

author's note: they're pretty sweet. i don't do much about them, i just open their closets (pun intended) and add in some trauma and shake the box for better results. i don't choose the tragic backstory for them, the thug life writes itself lmaooo. theyre my regular rivals to enemies to reluctant allies to friends to lovers. its set in a fictional universe a few centuries ago. because swords and stuff. i got my priorities sorted like that hehehehe.

description, stories and character studies:

eh theyre pretty cool sword wise. earthy and water tones. i created them for pure indulgent purposes. and angst.

my characters are like dabbas i can put in my unresolved stuff on, or are like characters i possess to figure myself out, or are just like my guinea pigs to shower all my love onto. they're my characters. i put pieces of myself into creating them. i find long lost pieces of myself in them. its a long journey. it feels like coming back home.

[thesarcasticside]

Anything-$00000DDD

Summary

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

Janus is a cyborg who works for the Dragon Witch, a criminal mastermind who runs a company that designs cybernetics.

He meets Remus, a self-taught biomedical engineer, and a variety of other robotic and alien characters, all of whom are trying to convince him that he is more than just a cybernetic puppet.

But who is “Dee” if not an empty husk created only to be controlled?

General warnings

Psychological horror, body horror, cybernetics, missing limbs, artificial limbs, Non-consensual forced medical treatment, physical abuse, blood, violence, guns, mind control, permanent amnesia, manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, nightmares, streams of consciousness, unreliable narration. Content that resembles depersonalization, derealization, or dissociation

More notes, links, and chapter text under the cut

AO3 Anything, AO3 series, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18

This is my story for the 2021 Storytime! Big Bang! @ts-storytime Thank you to @ben-phantomhive-trash, who is the artist I was partnered with for the event! They created this fantastic art!!!! I love it so much I can't even.

Thank you to PunkRock for helping me figure out the shorts characters and other plot things. Also thank you to AryaSkywalker, Thembo, and Carrotflowerking17 and the Big Bang 2021 discord for additional help!!!!

This fic is an alternative entry point to my (In Other Worlds) Series. This fic happens at the same time roughly as Millennia, a companion novel. You can read this fic and then check out the rest of the series, or check out the series and then read this.

Also, I don't use Janus's actual name throughout the fic for thematic and narrative reasons. You'll see. I hope that does not put you off too much. Consider it part of the angst.

Clarification of general warnings and pairings, minor spoilers

I added the tag unreliable narrator, but I will clarify that the narrator is not actively lying to the audience. This tag relates to Janus's memory issues and the uncertainty resulting from that. tbh I would not worry too much about the events being untrue, and more be concerned about these being Janus's imperfect recollection of events.

I think this fic is a bit more violent than Millennia at times, hence I added the archive warning for violence. I still feel like a teen would be fine reading this, so I am keeping the rating Teen and Up. This fic focuses the most on what I dub psychological horror (angst, mind control, memory issues, consciousness, nightmares, etc.). I also tagged this story with disassociation, and content in this fic may resemble derealization and depersonalization.

If you think I should warn/rate this fic differently, I am happy to hear feedback and reconsider.

I tagged this as Remus/Janus, but like, ya gotta squint. Mostly banter and being soft. I love romance, but I have a hard time writing it. Could be seen as platonic too.

HINT 1: KEY.

HINT 2: "kind of" not "kinda"

CHAPTER START

NAME J. D. Dedrick ID 25:35--25:44 / 51:09 ALIENRACE Dūcesnaca OCCUPATION Robotics Researcher

Chapter Warnings cybernetics, missing/artificial limbs (eye, legs), forced medical treatment/experimentation, amnesia, depersonalization/derealization/dissociation, unreliable narration, psychological horror, swearing Chapter Characters Janus, the Dragon Witch, Virgil (not by name)

He could have been anything. When he looked inside his own mind, he dug through darkness. Memories like ashes, the particles filling his lungs were all that were familiar to him—and those only felt like nothing. No fragments, just a fine powder.

He woke up to yellow in his eyes, stinging and unfocused. Lights beyond the veil flickered. He saw a figure move; he looked small. After a brief glance into the world, he began to drown. He threw everything into the yellow encasement, and after an agonizing struggle, the rush of acceleration threw him to the ground.

When the air touched his face, black fireworks exploded in his hazy vision, and the first memory he had was gone.

He woke up again, like a corpse left in the stale air for vultures: beaks plucking out his skin piece by piece. His vision blurry and halved, he stared up at the birds breaking his body into bits.

Reports say he was involved in a huge space crash. DRACANA has generously sponsored his artificiality.

That sounded like a lie. That sort of blatant untruth where there was no connection to reality tied to it. Everything his senses told him felt unreal, everything except the pain that grounded him like a shot duck.

Whispers like gossip broke into his mind between droughts of consciousness. His senses were pieced together and broken apart, like pieces of clay in a kiln shattering. Memories of vultures and lab coats glued together by agony floated through space until eventually he was awake.

Probably just one of her business rivals

Dei’dra—he knew her name—loomed over him, to his right. He could see nothing to his left. The light stung, he squinted and blinked his eye. He could feel nothing on the left side of his face. Dei’dra smiled at him.

“Wake up, dollface. Didn’t think you’d make it, but you pulled through.”

He did not know where he was. He did not know who he was. All he knew was that this woman was Dei’dra, the Dragon Witch, and he hated her.

“Well, he seems to be doing well. Might as well put him under and move onto the next stage.”

He lived out his days creating sand sculptures in his mind. He saw himself running in place, downloading skills and targets and concepts. The sand would blow away each day, leaving him with nothing to remember them by.

Between bouts of black unconsciousness, he saw grey, and white, and pale pink, brown, and blue. Abstract shapes morphing into creatures that prodded at him. Cold metal seething, machines twisting his body together like crochet. He gave nonsense names for some, not even names consisting of words, just pure thoughts.

Slowly, he lost sight of the sand in his brain, yet the grains still dripped from his ears when he shook his head. He became a part of reality. Or perhaps he became part of a hellish dream.

Darkness huddled in the damp sides of his eyes, danger snapping at his bruised joints and soles. Deep inside his chest, his heart damned, words mixed with intuitive instincts, daring his body to live beyond the yellow veil.

Stage One of Project $DEE has been completed.

$DEE was not his name. It was what he was called. One of the words that would echo in his brain. Dee. Dee. Dee. Like a rhythm, like the beeping machines. Like the ringing of the heart monitor. It was embedded in his ears. Baby words jumping around, forming pictures, babbling him into nothing.

Dee, his brain still a desert, started to make better sense of this reality he lived in. He could control his body sometimes. He could move his arms. Or what was left of his limbs. Or what they had lent him.

The second picture in his brain, the one after the yellow veil: it was the artificial lights on Lab C’s ceiling. Grey illuminated by white, he stared up at the square tiles and textured glass, like undulating waves of melted sand.

With how long he was locked in place staring up at this picture, he memorized it. He could close his eyes at any moment and picture it in its exact detail again.

“Time to get up, Doll-face. It’s time for your first mission.”

He saw Dei’dra’s face again. He felt his restraints loosen and break away.

His first mission was not all that glorious. He was lanky, unused to moving in his body. He was a wall of meat. Disposable. He followed a trail like a zombie. He barely spoke to the team he was placed in. He remembered their orders regarding him.

“He’s still pretty out of it. Give him some good experience, but we’d like to keep working on him so bring him back in one piece.”

Dee felt like a puppet, simply put. Some machine inside him aimed his cannons and lasers. He stood in place, shooting at targets. He was guided by an invisible leash by the team he was assigned to. He saw sepia shapes. Blurs of bodies. All he could feel was the emotions in his gut telling him, repeatedly:

Youaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieyouaregoingtodieagainyouaregoingtodiestoppleasestoppleaseyouaregoingtodiestopstopstopstopstop.

He was kept suspended in place while his body completed the mission. And then he was back in Lab C, mind clearer.

He was thinking in sentences now. He could monologue, like any great villain. That is what he had become, hadn’t he? Why a villain? Where had he learned that word? The more he sifted through the sand, the more words he could find he no longer remembered learning. They were just there, connected to nothing. No memory. No past life.

He kept thinking these words. And then he decided that since his jaw was not glued shut, he would give speaking a try. Garbled and slurred at first, he kept talking as much as they let him.

They made him run between ceilings of grey. They made him speak between illuminated square tiles. He practiced lines of a script. Subterfuge settled in his brain like a mirage in the distance between the settled sand.

He could walk on the unsteady ground once again. He could see. He could hear. He could experience the world around him. He gazed up at the ceiling but was interrupted by a splotch of dark violet.

Another blot. Another vulture. He stood there out of the corner of his artificial eye.

“What are you waiting for? Get on with the tests.” His voice sharp, cutting through his tongue.

This was an unusual time of day for tests. To say it was a time of day was generous. It was more like he would be experimented on for hours upon hours and then suddenly they would stop. Nothing to do but bask in the nothingness it brought.

At this point, Dee thought that he was done with most of the tests. He had his limbs. He had an eye, which he opened wider to get a better look at the violet blotch. Something about the blotch was connected to something else in his brain, but he could not quite place it.

“Well, whatever it is, get on with it, it certainly could not have waited until morning.”

It shuffled closer to him. Less of a blotch now. He could make out shapes. He could recognize his face now if he saw him again.

Air escaped his lungs, and then he said again, asking, “Whatever might you need from me today, doctor?”

The blotch was shaking. “If you are just here to sight-see, I am going back to sleep.” His eyes weighed heavily on his face, eyelids falling through his willpower.

“Are you… okay?”

No, I am not ‘okay’. I am ‘$DEE.’

“Do I LOOK okay? Yeah sure, I am right as rain, having a grand old time—feeling peachy, even.” At this point, the words just spiraled off his tongue and through his teeth. The blotch made a sound, and Dee’s frustration grew, the pain of today’s tests ricocheting in his body.

“If you aren’t here to run another one of your little tests, then just get out. Go tell your superior, or better yet, go tell Dei’dra to go fuck herself and leave me alone.”

And he left him alone. He wondered vaguely what that was all about. He then fell asleep.

[greenninjagal-blog]

Let Me Hear You Scream pt2

Ready for more spooky vibes? If you missed the first part you can find it [here!]

Summary: Upon waking up in a forest he doesn't recognize, Roman vs a Bear Trap goes almost exactly how you would think it goes.

Words: 6374

TW: Bear traps, blood, violence,

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Roman has always had an unusually high pain tolerance. He had to, being twin brothers with Remus and all that. The sheer amount of danger the two of them got into as kids delegated that if he was anything less than completely indestructible, he’d be dead the next time Remus started a conversation with “I bet you won’t…”

He remembers that summer when Remus dared him to ride his bike down the concrete stairs, and he remembers how the wheels pitched him forward and his helmet cracked on the sidewalk, his knee skidded on the concrete, and his arm went snap with pain so white hot that Roman actually thought that the whole thing had popped right off his body entirely.

He remembers lying on the ground so shocked that he couldn’t even breathe, much less cry, and he remembers Remus laughing in the background, “I didn’t think you were going to actually do it! Oh shit, Ro? Roman! ROMAN!”

He remembers it so clearly.

“REMUS!” Roman shrieks into the forest, with tears rolling down his cheeks. “THIS ISN’T FUNNY, YOU FUCKER!”

His ankle burns. He can’t feel his toes, he can’t feel his ankle, he can’t feel anything, but there’s blood all over his hands and he can’t look down in case he faints.

His hands are trembling as they blindly work over whatever the fuck he stepped on. He can feel the slushie that he last ate, swirling in his stomach, boiling and bubbling until he feels it corroding his back molars. His fingers fumble around the… the metal teeth, oh god he’s going to vomit. His ankle screams in pain when his fingers prod too close to his actual limb. His ears echo with the painful awful SNAP of the jaw mechanism like its seared right into his soul.

“Remus,” He sobs, “I’m going to fucking kill you--”

Because there was a line here; Yeah, Remus dared him into a prank war with one of his stupid “I bet you wont, you prissy goody two shoes…” and Roman poured glitter into Remus’s laundry once, then Remus replaced Roman’s toothpaste with mayo, then Roman put white hair dye in Remus’s shampoo, and Remus swore he would get some type of revenge, even though he loved that look so much that he kept a stupid white streak in his hair. At least Roman thought he did-- He did, right?

Remus wasn’t the type to keep it to himself if he was upset. Neither of them were: Roman had perfected the art of loud sighs and dramatic monologues into a microphone and Remus had set things on fire to make people pay attention.

He didn’t-- wouldn’t--

He wouldn’t drag Roman into the middle of nowhere and make him walk into a bear trap for hair dye that would come out in another few weeks.

((Wouldn’t he?))

Everyone said Remus was insane, through whispered rumors and gossip that dissipated the moment that Roman walked into the room. Roman hadn’t ever seen the insanity himself; he grew up with Remus chasing squirrels in the park and diving into dumpsters for cool treasures and it was normal. Remus had always found humor in strange and weird things and as they had grown up those things had become less real and more abstract and Roman still didn’t think it meant that Remus would do this.

The forest is dense around him, stupid, dark; Roman isn’t sure he could recognize it even if he had a map in front of him, but then again Remus was always the more environmentally aware person of the two of them. He doesn’t know where Remus went the fuck off to either-- he’s brain is fuzzy at everything more than a few seconds ago when he blinked opened his eyes and took one step forward into a metal death trap, but he… he thought Remus had been right beside him, so close that… that…. His head is singing with pain and the backs of his eyes are melting.

“Hey!” A voice calls out and Roman flinches so hard that the metal spikes dig into his ankle and his scream strangles him.

Roman blinks back his tears just in time to see a figure stumble right out the thickets nearby, with the grace of a new born fucking dear. Roman swears in every language he knows and then some he doesn’t as the person scrambles back to their feet and zeroes in on him with an expression that Roman usually associates with the memory of his science teacher right before she demonstrated how to break a frog's ribcage for their dissection.

“No,” Roman says, “No, back off--”

He tries to scoot back and agony shoots up his leg so bright and violent that his vision whites out.

“Don’t move,” the person says, holding up their palms up suddenly to show they were unarmed or something. Roman isn’t sure what that’s supposed to do when he knows that Remus himself has never needed a weapon to be a lunatic. “I’m going to try to help.”

“Do not fucking come near me,” Roman snarls. “Who are you? One of Remus’s fucking little friends--”

“I assure you I don’t know a Remus, but you are in pain and believe I am qualified to help.”

“Fuck off!”

Roman swears that the pain is getting to his head, meddling with his thoughts like alcohol except not fun and Roman would not suggest anyone repeat this experience. The stranger-- Remus’s friend or whatever-- is staring at him with a patient impatience: like his mother waiting for him to finish his story before she runs off to answer a call on her work phone. They’re older than Roman, by a year or two, with sharp cheekbones and back framed glasses of a stereotypical nerd but a height that makes it hard to even imagine anyone looking down on them. Their eyes are colder than ice, and frost wafts off their breath. They’ve got a sweater vest on, with a tie, and converse dotted with glow in the dark paint in the shape of space nebulas.

Between his teary eye lashes Roman thinks that this guy looks incredibly tame for someone who associates with Remus and he fights the urge to vomit.

Is his leg supposed to be feeling cold?

Oh god, was he going to lose his foot? His breath swells up in his lungs, like a balloon pressing against his ribs. He wouldn’t be able to walk without a foot-- He wouldn’t be able to move or leave these woods or get help-- Remus and his psycho friends could easily cut up the rest of his body and let the wolves get him and then at school when someone would ask what happened to that dumbass who used to make dumb jokes on air during the football games, everyone will be like “Who?” and “didn’t Remus used to have an annoying twin? What happened to that guy?” and no one will ever find him because no one would car--

“Please,” The Doctor Who-ever says, in a faux calm tone as Roman nearly swallows his tongue. “I have medical knowledge, and you are clearly in distress.”

Agony races up his leg and Roman whimpers again. He swears he can hear the sound of metal grinding against his ankle bones, biting in deep and forcing the marrow to crack and shatter and explode until it's just a bunch of broken glass-like fragments under his skin. His head feels light and he frantically breathes deeply because he is not going to pass out, he is not going to make it that eas--

He’s cut off by a sudden crashing from behind behind himself: snapping of branches like a wild animal is tearing through them, the crunch of dead leaves steadily getting louder and heavy and deadlier, the swearing that are all tell-tale sounds of Remus crashing directly into someone and both of them eating the dirt as they barrel through the thickets and roll to a stop a few feet away.

Nerdicus jerks back like they were expecting anything less of Remus’s spectacular grand entrance.

Roman bites down on his tongue to stop himself from outright whimpering. Remus, his twin, his mirror image, rolls back to a sitting position like a possessed doll coming to life, untangling his limbs from another crumpled, groaning form that must be some other friend of his, and snapping them back in place because what are limbs to a maniac like him? The setting sun paints him in an eerie light and Roman’s skin itches with equal parts rage and terror at him, for dragging them out there, for putting out bear traps, for doing all this as pay back for a stupid little prank in a prank war he fucking started--

Remus’s laughter is obnoxious as always and Roman tries not to flinch at the sound of it alone, holding back a white wash of fear with just his force of will.

His other friend is another person that Roman hasn’t seen before-- not that he spends a lot of time getting to know the faces of the delinquents that his brother hangs out with. They’ve got on black jeans and a black T-shirt with one of those reversible sequin designs in the shape of a skull. Their blond hair dances in the last dregs of the evening, even as they pull a leaf from their bangs and yanks their dirty yellow beanie back over their head.

“Holy shit!” Remus says, spitting out dirt from his mouth. “Is that a bear trap?”

“Remus!” Roman whimpers with a tight throat. “This isn’t funny!”

“Au contraire! I left you alone for like five seconds and now you’re in a bear trap!” There’s a glint in Remus’s eyes and Roman recognizes it from those times when Remus climbed too high in the trees back at home, when he stared at a growing flame of a match too long, when he reached across the console and yanked on the steering wheel, screaming Roman’s name--

Roman brain pulses to the point where he can feel it knock against his skull and that hurts almost as much as ankle and he swears he sees stars on the backs of his eyelids and he does not want those to be the last stars he ever sees.

Remus swoops towards him and Roman flinches back, nearly screaming when his leg jostles.

“Chill out, Prince Charmless,” his twin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m gonna get it off. What’s your range of movement?”

“Do not come any closer to me, you asshole!”

“You can’t get that thing off yourself,” Remus says.

“And whose fault is that?” Roman snaps.

Remus freezes, tilting his head slightly to the side. His rat's nest of hair creates an unearthly silhouette as he looks down at Roman, something straight out his Halloween horror films, and Roman bares his teeth in warning. He’s not thinking about how Remus’s foot can stomp down on his injured, trapped leg, he’s not thinking about how there’s no one around for miles, he’s not thinking about how there’s nothing and no one to stop him from straight out fratricide--

“Why am I suddenly getting the feeling you think I know what the flying fuck is going on here?” Remus asks.

“Don’t you?”

“No!” Remus says, delightedly, happily, cheerfully and his voice makes some distant bird caw. “I thought you snapped and took me to the woods to kill me yourself! This is much more boring now that I know I haven’t managed to break your last shreds of sanity.”

“Why would I--”

“This is ridiculous,” Glasses McGee cuts in sharply, adjusting said glasses with their index finger. “We need to remove your foot from that trap now.” They look at Remus and the other person. “Are either of you knowledgeable about the mechanics of bear traps?”

Remus throws two thumbs up, and Roman remembers vaguely a rant from a year or two ago about unethical bear hunting and steel jaw traps and how animals would step in and then lay there for days suffering as their mangled limb held them captive regardless of them trying to chew it off for freedom and oh god he’s going to be sick--

“Roman,” Remus says somewhere beyond the screaming in his head. “Oh shit.” It sounds like he’s far away and distant, or maybe underwater and Roman is drowning. He can’t seem to breathe anymore, like the teeth biting into his ankles had wrapped around his chest and was slowly crushing him.

People are moving around him, faint voices talking and then suddenly burning blinding white hot pain that shoots all the way up to the back of his eyes.

He screams and bites down only to find there’s something in his mouth-- fibers and the unmistakable taste of wool and Roman nearly gags on it. He blinks back the foggy pain and finds that he’s leaning on Remus and Webster Dick-tionary is pressing a multicolored sweatshirt to his leg delicately with the bear trap fully closed a few feet away, tethered to the ground with a heavy metal chain coated in a red paint that makes Roman’s vision sway all over again. The slushie claws back up his throat and he gags.

There’s someone new standing just behind the nerd: a very pretty person in a pretty skirt and headphones with cat ears on them around his neck. The splash of freckles and the round glasses makes them look a bit younger than the rest of them, but that could also be Roman’s brain twisting things around the moment that they wince in sympathy as the nerd prods part of his ankle.

They’re magnificent, Roman decides with a dizzying certainty. They’re the sun in the middle of this dark and dreadful forest, the stars in the night sky, the lighthouse in the storm guiding Roman back from complete devastation with just those shiny eyes behind cracked lens.

The other person, the one in the black skull shirt, Sid from Toy Story come to life, is standing just behind him and Remus, looking on distastefully from a good distance away. It takes Roman a moment to realize he’s biting down on the guy’s beanie, and gross. He spits it out at the same time as the nerd presses too close to where the trap had caught him.

“Son of a Witch!” He hisses. “A dragon witch, a fucking---”

“Oh, boo,” Remus says. “He’s alive.”

“He was not in any immediate danger of dying,” Space Case says firmly. “And isn’t he your brother?”

“Looks like someone is an only child,” Remus says. The person in black reaches out and snatches back his beanie, his entire face curling into some disgusted expression as they hold the part with Roman’s saliva away from themself.

“Wonderful,” they say in deadpan and stuff the beanie in their back pocket.

Roman blinks, struggling to sit up by himself. He scrubs his face trying to get rid of his tears, and buries that boiling humiliation being the center of attention like this. Of course, he has to be grievously injured for anyone to care about him, for anyone to take a moment to look at him, for anything--

Remus lets him go, stretching up and yawning like nothing about this is weird or strange or scary to him.

Part of Roman is reassured by that. Like, of course Remus isn’t terrified out of his mind; what is there to be scared of when he’s the most terrifying thing in a 100 mile radius? When he handcuffed himself to the doors of the city history museum to protest its demolishment even though the wrecking ball was right there, when he wore a mini skirt to school to protest the dress code even though he’d been beat up for less before, when he marched into the Governor’s office when he was refused a meeting about the rescinding of the pollution standards in the the county and laughed in the face of the armed guards that told him to leave.

Remus had an endless supply of guts and determination and Roman had wished for so long that his reckless bravery could be contained, controlled and banished, but now it kinda felt like Remus slipping a familiar jacket over Roman’s shoulders and telling him to relax.

Google.com-- Roman is seriously running out of names for them-- leans in and tears the new holes in Roman’s jeans further-- Roman grimaces at the thought of having to buy another pair to make up for this, but the nerd expertly uses the excess fabric to tie up his wound with a professional precision.

“Alright, Doc Oct,” Remus says while they work. “What is the diagnosis? Amputation? Do I need a body bag?”

“I just said that he was not in danger of dying,” they say, finishing the knot which only causes Roman to grunt a little bit. “And my name is Logan, if you must know. I am not a full medical doctor by any means, but I believe that he will recover fully; the trap broke skin and there will likely be a nasty amount of bruising deep in the muscle tissue, but he will recover in a few weeks of rest. It will probably be best to keep weight off your foot as much as possible.”

“See, drama queen?” Remus says to Roman, shoving his shoulder. “You’re fine.”

Roman gives him double middle fingers for his trouble and tries not to shake too hard with relief. He stares down at his leg, forcing a steady breath through his lungs and out his nose, and wonders with a dizzying amazement how his leg was not only in one piece but recoverable, after all the pain. He isn’t sure that it’s not just the placebo effect of someone saying that everything’s going to be okay, but he wiggles his toes and swears that the pain only wracks his limb moderately this time.

Even closed, the bear trap looked menacingly at them: Roman’s blood on the jaws that were curled into a ghoulish grin, just waiting for someone to get close enough to open and bite down on. He’s not sure how Remus and the Doctor Doolittle-- Logan-- managed to get it off him.

Logan turns and offers the sweater to the person in the skirt. “Ah, sorry, I’m afraid the blood has…”

Roman sucks in another breath at the sight of it: the bright splotchy blobs of red that bled through the pastel tye dye design that would likely never come out and eternally remain a reminder of how Roman put his foot directly in a bear trap like an idiot-- What would he have done if there was no one around? Died? His own stupidity had ruined such a nice piece of clothing and--

“It’s okay!” The angel says with a somewhat cartoonish voice. Roman blinks in surprise at the sweetness of it, tasting sugar even as the words hold over the air. He swears he can envision their I’s dotted with hearts; a soft and kind tone despite the fact that Roman had ruined their sweater. “I’m much more relieved he’s going to be okay!”

“Let’s not get too excited,” Doctor Doom says, causing Roman to stiffen and Remus to glance back curiously towards them. They’re turned away from the rest of the mismatched, miscellaneous group, looking into the trees with a gaze that makes Roman’s stomach roll over and not in any way that is even remotely good.

“What?”

They glance back at them with an expression something that Roman can only call shifty. Like a snake before it strikes, they’re poised on the balls of their feet, coiled with the power to move at a seconds decision. Untrustable, Undependable, Unkind-- and Roman squares his shoulders just to prove to himself that there isn’t actually a dagger point about to plunge into his back.

The person’s voice is silky smooth, but Roman can’t find it in himself to be jealous when the meaning of the next words hit. “I don’t suppose any of you remember just exactly how we came to be here, do you?”

The woods echo with a strange emptiness, like the trees themselves are holding their breaths. The silence is eerie-- Roman’s never been a forest this quiet. He’s never been anywhere this quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck raise up.

Logan and the shining, shimmering, lovely vision share a look and the former shrugs, occupying their hands with tying their sweater around their waist.

“It’s fuzzy,” they admit, thoughtfully. “I was leaving my dorm...and then…” They grimace, which is downright awful to witness: Roman doesn't think anyone deserves to look so uncomfortable, and certainly not a beauty like them. “...then I was here.”

Logan makes a sour face like he managed to misplace a decimal twenty seven steps back in his math equations. “I was uncharacteristically late to class, but I seem to have some form of amnesia surrounding the hours since then as well; It was just past two.”

Dr. Facilier-turned-teenager turns to Roman, their eyes asking a question they already know the answer to. And part of Roman wants to snarl at them, tell them to knock it off with the creepy aura and better-than-you-expression, explain to them exactly how they ended up all here together because there’s a logical, causal explanation.

But Remus is already laughing. “Oh come on! We were…. What were we doing again?” Remus freezes for a moment, some of the smile leaving his face. “Ro? Where were we…?”

Remus is dressed in another one of his ripped T-shirts, the Save the Turtles one that he wore to that protest a few months ago and when he volunteered to clean up beaches for the weekend. His sleeves are ripped off to show off the endangered Tiger tattoo on his shoulder up to his neck, and his jeans are the recycled ones that he bought second hand and begged Roman to repair rather than buy a new pair and “give his money to the capitalists that are trying to kill us all”.

In comparison, Roman is wearing his letterman jacket, with his name engraved on it that he got for being the announcer for the football team three years in a row. He’s wearing his announcer uniform too-- his hair is styled and his colors are coordinated to the white and red of their school, but Remus never comes to the football games anymore.

Or well, he’s not allowed to come to the games anymore after he stole the tuba from the band players and charged into the field during the game back in their freshman year.

Still he-- remembers… he thinks he remembers... They were in the car together, Remus needed to go somewhere and Roman had to drop him off and then speed off to the game, right? Remus' feet were up on his dashboard, mud flaking off into his freshly cleaned car, his air fresheners weren’t working, they were fighting over the radio, Remus’s hand reached out, latching on to the wheel and a scream--

“Fuck,” Remus says, rubbing the side of his head like Roman had slapped him. “Did you crash our car out here?”

“Me?” Roman says, incredulously.

“Yeah!” Remus says. “Did you get brain damage in the crash too? Are your brains going to fall out? You were the one driving, dumbass.”

“You grabbed my steering wheel!”

Remus snorts. “What? No, I didn’t?”

“Yes you did!”

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“I wouldn’t get anything out of--”

“Boys!” Skeletar says, clapping to get their attention. “Less arguing, more answering the question.”

Remus looks at Roman and Roman glares right back because he did not crash the car. Between the two of them Remus was more likely to crash a car-- proven from how he totaled their green Ford Fiesta nine months ago and now even around the pounding headache he can still remember the feeling of surprise as Remus’s sporadic movement jumbled through his own, the yank that caused him to lose control, the-- the--

He doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he knows that then Roman had opened his eyes out here, taken a step forward, and nearly lost his foot to a bear trap.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Logan says. “Even if perhaps you happened to have a car around here, that does not explain how the rest of us came to be here. And likely from the events that you are describing the car is not in functional condition-- although I’m unsure how your persons would have come out of such a thing without a few visible injuries…”

“I didn’t crash the car,” Roman says firmly.

“Oh, like you didn’t step into a bear trap?” Remus asks innocently antagonistically.

“Why are there bear traps out here anyway!” Roman hisses. “Isn’t bear hunting or whatever illeg--”

Roman almost doesn’t hear it: it starts so softly and then it raises in pitch and suddenly it's ringing in the air like cracks in the fragile glass silence. He feels his breath disappear right out of his chest, his body tensing and everyone jerks towards the direction the sound comes from, like they’re expecting to see something out there.

Roman remembers hearing people yell at Remus to get out of the way of the wrecking ball, remembers hearing the teachers snap at him to go change into his gym clothes, remembers the armed guard spitting on Remus’s face, his own shouts turning to something just above an animalistic growl when he told Remus to knock it off, you’re making me look bad.

And still he doesn’t remember hearing anything sound so horrified. So desperate. So despondent.

It is the noise that causes Roman to break out in goosebumps, electricity dancing along his skin causing all of his hairs to raise, and himself to find it suddenly very hard to swallow. Roman is scrambling back before he can remember that his foot should not be moving and he bumps into Logan as he does.

It cuts off short and disappears like someone took a pair of scissors to the sound itself, snipping the scream for help away before it reaches the end.

And Roman doesn’t think anyone is breathing anymore. His heart pounds in his chest, waiting for the rest of it.

The trees cast shadows so deep and dark that not even the moonlight will touch them. Somehow without Roman noticing, the temperature had dropped until the air feels like frostbite licking his exposed skin. Roman doesn’t dare move another inch-- doesn’t like the idea of what might happen if he reminds the rest of the world that time is still passing.

“I…” the person in the skull T-shirt says, in a very low, strangled tone. “I don’t think bears are what's being hunted.”

“No,” Roman says, “No.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna be sick,” the person in the skirt says.

“No!” Roman says, throwing out his arms before his thoughts can catch up. “This is not--”

“We need to leave,” Logan says, face pale. “Now.”

“I think I saw a gate,” Remus said, no hint of his unhinged grin. He thumbs the direction that he and Kaa came from. “I pulled the switch but it didn’t open. I thought about climbing but there are no holds and barbed wire around the top--”

“It’s likely lacking a power source then,” Logan says steadily calm and Roman feels like he’s losing his whole goddamned mind. “Let me take a look at--”

“We are not being hunted right now!” Roman blurts out.

The others stare at him for a solid, endless second and Roman’s stomach threatens to crawl up his throat. He waits for them to agree with him, waits for them to laugh and call it a joke, waits for Remus to tell him he’s so easy to scare, come on Ro, did you really think there was a murderer in these woods? This is grade school level effort!

Roman gets the feeling that he’s going to be waiting a very long time.

“Guys,” Roman says, slightly more wobbly than he means it to, slightly more softer than he means it to, slightly more terrified than he means it to. “We aren’t being hunted for sport, right?”

Because-- Because he’s seen horror movies. And he remembers once how Remus poured a bag of popcorn over his head and said that if they were ever in that situation, he’d leave Roman to rot, maybe even toss him to the killer himself, laugh as Roman screamed and begged and cried.

He doesn’t look at his foot. He doesn’t look at his foot and think about how he can’t run. He doesn't look at his foot and realize that they’re going to leave him behind and no one will ever know what happened to him and no one will care--

Remus is suddenly right in front of him, offering a hand right into Romans face. Roman blinks back the burning tears on his cheeks and looks at the limb with a trembling lip.

“Come on,” Remus says. “You’re a little bitch when you ruin your mascara, Ro.”

And Roman tries to articulate the billions of insults he has in his brain, but all that comes out is a whimper as Remus latches on to his wrist and pulls him to his feet. He stumbles the moment that he tries to put weight on his foot, flickers of pain echoing in his brain although it's not nearly as bad as he was expecting. Remus pulls Roman over his shoulder with his injured leg raised between them and all of his weight on Remus’s shoulders.

“I’m not leaving you behind, dumbass,” Remus says.

((Why wouldn’t he?))

“We need to help them,” the person in the skirt, the good and just and wonderful person in a skirt, says suddenly.

“I don’t think they need our help,” Hans Gruber-minus-the-German-accent says. “In fact, I don’t think they need anything, anymore.”

“How could you say that?!”

“Easily,” they respond, shortly.

The person in the skirt is shaking, Roman realizes. They’re shaking and hugging themself and they look slightly green in the face.

“I came from over there,” they say from behind trembling hands. “I-- I didn’t hear anyone else over there but they must have been there and I-- I can’t--”

“They’re dead,” Dr. Jerkyll says clinically, like a surgeon with a knife. “Us rushing towards that area is only going to get us attacked next. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to die, thank you very much.”

“We can’t leave them!” The other argues.

The person in the skull shirt steps towards the other and grabs their upper arm to spin them back to the direction the scream came from. Then with a derisive and terrible sneer, they shove. The cutie in the skirt stumbles forward, nearly face planting on the uneven ground.

“Then you go help them,” they say, with streaks of faint and awful moonlight painting them in a pale halo. They wave back to Logan, Remus and Roman, and Roman feels very much like he doesn’t want to be included in this group all of a sudden. “Don’t drag the rest of us into it.”

“Hey, don’t be a dick!” Roman says, stepping forward and hissing when he places a slight weight on his foot. “What if it were you out there?”

They scoff. “Me? I would never let myself get caught by a psycho murderer in the woods. But if I did, the last thing I would want is my valiant savior to come charging to my rescue and then get slaughtered right beside me like an idiot!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, you slimy snake,” Roman says.

“I bet you will, Hiccup,” they shoot back. “The gate is this way. Try not to step in another bear trap, won’t you?”

“Damn!” Remus says, “You’re a bitch! What’s your opinion on plastic in the sea?”

Roman slaps Remus’s arm and gives him a glare because really? Right now? They’re in the woods, someone just screamed and probably got murdered, they don’t know how to get out, Roman’s injured, and Remus is doing one of his weird flirting attempts.

Great.

The person in the skull shirt at least looks slightly thrown by the question, narrowing their eyes and shaking their head as they turn away as if they can brush off the rest of the group. “The sea turtles are dying.” They say blandly, without a hint of actual emotion. “Oh no. Next time I see one I will give my condolences about it’s mother.”

Remus’s mouth pops open for a retort that Roman knows is going to be bad, but before he can get the words out, there’s a loud sound of cracking branches from behind them. Remus drags Roman back from the area, planting himself in front of Roman like some kind of human shield and Roman wobbles, without anything to put his injured leg on.

“Jesus Christ!” A new voice screams, as they trip over a thicket and fall into the clearing.

They move like a blur; barely more than a shadow with the ungodly amount of black they’re wearing. Roman can make out a pale face, dark bangs and terrified eyes, before the scramble back in the ground leaving… leaving smears of deep red on the ground in front of them. Their flashlight goes flying off to Logan’s feet, but they don’t seem to care as much about that as moving away from whatever is behind them.

The air tastes like metal, like copper, and Roman swears the world sways under him. His heartbeat blares in his ears almost louder than the newcomer’s hysterical sobs.

There’s a thud. And another.

And the trees themselves seem to shake and draw from the shadow that takes form. It peels away from the others, massive, hulking and distorted in all the wrong ways: at some point it must have been human, Roman thinks hysterically. It has two legs and two arms and a torso and a head, but it's elongated towering over even Logan at his ridiculous height. Its skin is covered in soot and dirt, layers upon layers to the point where Roman almost thought that it was wearing some kind of leather armor. It has rubber overalls on, strapped...strapped to its body with metal hooks that catch the thin moonlight peeking out of its bulging bare shoulders in a way that looks…looks self mutilated. The patchy ugly skin is healed around the metal, molded to it, absorbing it. In one hand is a cleaver, cobbled together from various metals with an unfinished touch and dripping scarlet all the way down the handle to its massive hands. Roman thinks that with one hand it could easily crush one of their skulls.

But worse than that, than the blood, than the stench coming from the thing, than the bloodlust that's echoing out of it: worse than all that is the mask welded to its face. A pale white skin that nearly glows in the darkness, framed with jagged sharp edges of bladed teeth in a terror inducing smile. Soulless orbs exist where eyes might have once been: now there are empty voids without a human behind them.

In a slow, almost robotic motion, it raises the cleaver in its hand. Blood rolls down the handle onto it’s hand and Roman watches the bulb of red drip down into the grass right between the newcomer’s sneakers.

Oh, Roman thinks suddenly very clearly without any room for a single doubt, This is what death looks like.

“NO!” The person in the skirt screams and suddenly they shove forward and throw themselves in front of the swing of the cleaver. Roman isn’t sure who screams louder at that: him, the person in the skirt, or the person on the ground bleeding out.

His brain is on fire, every atom in him is screaming so loud that he can’t hear his thoughts. His own breath flees his lungs with abandon that Roman’s brain somehow hadn’t gotten because instead of running away he’s running towards the monster. His blood boils in his veins and he pushes through Remus with the sort of reckless abandonment of sanity he never would have thought he’d ever make.

His vision locks onto the kid on the ground and his fingers latch on their left shoulder and he hauls them back.

The air next to his ear whistles as the cleaver misses them by centimeters and the person in the skirt screams as they fall to the side, and specks of something wet and warm and sticky flings through the air like its a water fountain; Roman feels it splatter across his face and his brain heart thuds in his chest.

Remus appears on his other side, grabbing Roman’s hostage by their other arm and they both pull them to their feet, ignoring the way they scream in pain. Their torso drips ruby into the dead grass at their feet and Roman-- Roman--

The hulking monster in front of them gives his cleaver a shake and drags it over its own arm to wipe away the blood, like it's nothing more than a hindrance. It turns its entire body towards the person in the skirt, the gorgeous selfless angel of a person that Roman hasn’t gotten the name of-- of someone he isn't going to get the same of because the abomination raises the cleaver again.

Roman screams because he does not want to watch someone die, please he doesn’t want to be in this nightmare anymore, wake up wake up wakeup--

There’s a brilliant white light that explodes at the last second. Roman himself jerks away from it, but that’s nothing compared to the inhuman howl that the creature makes as it stumbles back to the edge of the forest, covering its beady eyes with its massive hands.

Logan flicks the flashlight off and grabs the person in the skirt by their uninjured arm and looks back at them only briefly with an air of finality.

“RUN!” He says.

And Roman does.

[floatingcatacombs]

annual music post

12 Days of Aniblogging 2021, Day 7

i swear I listen to plenty of happy stuff too but it’s been a rough year so let me have this.

If 2020 was the apocalypse, then 2021 has rather been defined by collapse. These two concepts may seem similar enough, but in practice they feel very different to live through. At least with an apocalypse, everyone understands the stakes and how bad things are. But collapse forces you to contend with things you once took for granted crumbling around you, both slowly and in big bursts. It can lead to a pretty bleak mindstate, especially if you were raised with the expectation of infallible incremental progress on the global scale. So, without further ado,

damn the supply chains, my health problems, this fucking pandemic, the doomsday cult minority rule political party doubling down on insanity, and the capacity for things to always get worse.

The best album for these feelings of abstract hopelessness is Palimpsest by Lauren Bousfield. It’s a little hard to describe genre-wise (glitchy breakcore??), but rest assured it sounds exactly like how the song titles read. It’s easily my favorite album that came out in 2020 and got me through a lot of this year in particular.

Otherwise, Spotify told me that I mostly listened to Depeche Mode and Soft Cell this year before clinically diagnosing me with horny depression. There’s just something about grimy 80’s British synthpop that hits right during bad times. Probably because it was all written under the shadow of Thatcher, providing a snapshot of a long and unglamorous time period that is nonetheless way different than the one we’re currently stuck in. I want to use this post to talk more about Soft Cell, who had no right making music as good as they did.

Soft Cell was a synthpop duo act consisting of vocalist Marc Almond and David Ball on synths. Though mostly known as a one-hit wonder with Tainted Love, the two of them left behind an impressive catalogue in their three short years of putting out albums. Their first release is 1981’s Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret and it fully lives up to its name as the sleaziest thing you’ve ever heard. “The creators must have been on drugs” is frequently thrown around as a way out of engaging more deeply with weird art, but in this case, you can just feel from the production that this was made by the band locking themselves in the studio with a synthesizer, a TR-808 drum machine, and a shitload of speed. The instrumentation is simple but aggressive, and most songs flow right into the next, making it truly non-stop. Lyrically, the album aims for transgressive sex, seedy urban life, and the sense of wasted life. These are the thematic bread and butter of Soft Cell, and they pull it all off with aplomb.

What a vibe of a cover too

Just 14 months later, Soft Cell delivered their second full album, The Art of Falling Apart. True to its name, this is a collection of songs about people on the verge of a breakdown, trying to hold it together. As such, it leans very heavily on the anger and despair of feeling like you’re wasting your life away, which makes this album a hard listen at times for me. That being said, it’s still great stuff, and the album’s standout songs, “Heat” and “Baby Doll”, combine this feeling with the band’s usual sex depravity to great effect. The Art of Falling Apart has the richest production of all the Soft Cell releases, which makes it a smooth listen, but some tracks feel like they’ve lost their edge compared to the stripped-down rawness of their first and final albums.

fairly obvious mask imagery on the album art

Unfortunately, The Art of Falling Apart was seemingly autobiographical in nature. By 1984, the two members of Soft Cell were crashing and burning from their constant concerts and drug use. One month after dissolving the band, they released their final album: This Last Night in Sodom. Damn, they were good with the titles!

This Last Night in Sodom is a pretty substantial break from their previous albums. It’s far more guitar-driven than their synths-only prior works, and makes no efforts to be club-friendly listening. After the absolutely explosive start that is “Mr Self Destruct” (no relation to the Nine Inch Nails song), the album churns through an eclectic mix of styles, newly drawing from post-punk, rockabilly, and Latin soul. “Slave to This” is more of a wall of noise with stream of consciousness rambling about the dregs of society than it is a melodic song. Hell, some of the tracks are even in mono. Lyrically, the album dives into places that are dark even by Soft Cell standards. Murder, suicide, rape, and soul-destroying loneliness are all on the table, painting a desperate picture of the world befitting of the title.

I’m convinced this album bombed not because of its experimental nature but the borderline unreadable cover art. Contrast ratios matter!

This probably sounds like a dreadful listen from how I’m describing it, but it’s become the Soft Cell album that I return to the most. It’s got so much going on that it’s never a stale listen, and its specific flavor of anger has been just what I’ve needed for the final months of 2021 in the wake of health problems, a depressive spell in the fall, and a world that refuses to get better.

Towards the end of “Slave to This”, Marc Almond cries out “Hey, is this the last night in Sodom?”, phrasing it is a question. One song ends with the speaker begging for God’s help, another has them wishing for annihilation. But no matter what we pray for, this is not the last night in Sodom. Nobody’s coming, and we’re stuck with ourselves, no matter how bad things get. Better find a way to hold it together.

[bastardtetsu]

haikyuu + musical theatre boys

hq characters & what they’d be like as musical theatre boys - what they’re good at, what kind of shows they book, how they are to work with, roles they’d play, etc. | starring: sugawara, oikawa, bokuto, kuroo, tendou (+ tsukishima, kenma, akaashi)

for weeks my head has been full of hq!MT boys, inspired by over a decade of being a theatre kid, and @karasimpno has only enabled my debauchery. these are just a few of my faves, but i have more theatre boys where this came from so if this doesn’t flop maybe i will post more hehe

PART 2 

tw swearing, musical theatre references, oikawa slander

SUGAWARA [tenor] this bitch is SO talented it should be illegal and he books like crazy. nothing like a pretty soft boi with the voice of an angel in musical theatre <3 not really a dancer but moves very well, also can act the house down like you think he’s this basic MT boy but then it turns out this mf has range and is not afraid to use it. will go from playing the sweetest, most charming leading man to a complex, terrifying villain, and the whiplash will make you fall in love with him. a dream to work with, obviously. very strong with classical text as well. his ability is frankly terrifying and far too powerful. the type of boy you cold read with once at a callback and never see again, but playing opposite him for those 2 minutes is enough to make you think about him for the rest of your life

lucas in the addams family, anthony in sweeney todd, the princeton/rod or nicky/trekkie/bad idea bear track in avenue Q, the emcee in cabaret PLS

OIKAWA [tenor] let’s be real oikawa already has an MT personality and it’s the worst kind. he thinks he’s rachel berry but really he’s kurt. he still books though bc he’s pretty and sings like an angel~ he can move really well and his jazz/MT style dancing is very strong, can also tap a little but it’s like barely enough to get by. his acting is kinda mediocre but his stage presence is out of this world and he’s hot so it doesn’t rlly matter, he stays booking leading men & disney princes left and right. truly is very talented at what he does, he’s just so annoying about it and constantly fronting all these skills he does not have, like he keeps trying to put leading lady songs in his book in their original key which is just.... not what those pipes are built for girl. bringing a whole new meaning to the nickname “flattykawa”

fiyero in wicked, pippin in pippin, conrad in bye bye birdie, aaron samuels in mean girls, joseph in joseph & the amazing technicolor dreamcoat, just all the basic mt boy shit

BOKUTO [baritone, tenor, everything in between, HIS RANGE] an absolute star. all-around amazing dancer (those muscles aren’t just for show babyyy) but especially tap and partnering (imagine him just lifting u.. god) powerhouse vocals across the board, his diaphragm is insane. he’s the type of MT who is always yelling even when they aren’t on stage, not even aware of it he’s just loud asf. always spitting everywhere too. no one is safe. acting is probably his weakest point just bc he doesn’t have a lot of versatility style-wise, but in no way is he bad at it i meannnnn have u seen how expressive and energetic that man is?? he does literally any golden age musical comedy leading man soooo well and is a blast to work with, such posi vibes & the character choices his himbo brain comes up with are so silly they’re genius

don lockwood in singin in the rain, gabey in on the town, bobby in crazy for you, jimmy in nice work if you can get it, robert in drowsy chaperone, will in oklahoma!

KUROO [baritenor] one of those fuckers who started doing theatre by accident, and immediately started booking out the wazoo with no training because he’s naturally talented and hot. i hate him so much. has that “idgaf i don’t have to try” aura about him, but his work ethic is actually?? really good??? once he starts learning more he really does put the work in. has that feeling of ease in his stage presence & good instincts that make up for his lack of training, plus his vocals have no right sounding that good on their own wtf. fucker thinks he’s frank sinatra, and honestly, it’s criminal how good he is at golden age material when most of what he books is contemporary bc of his dumb hair he’s not exactly a dancer but like…. bitch can move. plus he’s got body so that helps him a lot. mostly books leads anyway because that’s just how it goes when ur a hotboy with charm and talent. also he can fieRCE classical text??!?? (hint: it’s bc he’s a nerd) just stop being talented already jesus

melchior in spring awakening, sky masterson in guys & dolls, demetrius in midsummer, BENEDICK IN MUCH ADO PLS I NEED IT FOR MY HEALTH

TENDOU [countertenor] kicks ass at everything like he’s so talented and so versatile. vocals are insane, he has mad range and can do any number of character voices/impressions/dialects/what have you. his falsetto is unmatched (nice try flattykawa). we been knew his instincts are killer - character acting, comedy, improv, clown, mime, devised/alt theatre, contemporary MT, golden age MT, classical text you name it he can slay it all. his resume is so chaotic. he can body a super intense scene too, i feel like he trained in meisner & got traumatized from it and for a while he had an issue with getting too into character & doing crazy shit bc it was “method,” but eventually learned better<3 excellent mover, used to be a trina ballerina so his technique always shocks people even though he’s been out of practice for a long time (the dance world can be toxic and he was over it, so he yeeted all the way out of there a while ago). all around a wild human being with the ability to transform into numerous other wild human beings, creatures, abstract concepts, etc.

beetlejuice in beetlejuice, almost any track in cats but especially mungojerrie, mary sunshine in chicago, the porter in macbeth, CALIBAN IN THE TEMPEST PLEASEPLEASRPKEASE

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

+BONUS: NOT MTs

characters who have zero MT energy but still fit elsewhere in the theatre world:

TSUKKI is a sound tech who is mean to performers esp during sound check, has a particular vitriol against MTs (except yamaguchi)

KENMA is an ASM who rarely gives a fuck, also does lighting & projection design. doesn’t hate MTs like tsukki, but their energy is usually a lot for him so he tends to avoid

AKAASHI is a playwright & dramaturg, but he used to act and can recite shakespeare on a dime, sonnets, soliloquys, whatever ur heart desires <3 may also play an instrument and sometimes writes lil songs but he doesn’t flex them bc he’s shy bby

[sinner-as-saint]

Ardor.

Artist! Seb AU.

Requested.

 Run-through: You’re a struggling model who is ready to accept any work. In your time of need, an unusual offer comes your way. You accept it without giving it a second thought; and you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

Themes: SMUT, fluff, artist! Seb

AN: This is a long fic, grab your food, drinks and blankets.

You were sure that if you weren’t ready and out of the door in less than a minute, Natasha – your agent, was going to murder you in cold blood.

 “Y/N, I swear to God if you’re not ready and out of this door in a minute I will-,”

 “Jesus! Calm down, I’m ready Nat. Let’s go,” you opened the door to your apartment, cutting her off and giving her the brightest smile you could.

Nat was standing outside, wearing a dark red dress. Her face showed her annoyance and you knew you were the cause for it.

 “We were supposed to be there already, what took you so long?” she chided as she dragged you all the way down the hallway to the elevator.

You sighed.

 “The people from earlier did a horrible job on my hair, so I needed to wash it. Sorry, Nat I know I’m not doing good right now, but I’m gonna do my best at the casting tomorrow. I won’t let you down,” you spoke sheepishly as the elevator descended.

It was true, you had hit rock bottom recently. You barely had enough money in your bank account for this month’s rent, and nothing was working out recently.

All the casting directors were turning you down, telling you that you should try your luck elsewhere. You had left your parent’s home 2 years ago, in rage – because they didn’t support your dream of being a model. According to them, it’s not a real job. And that exposing your body for money didn’t make you any different than the women in the streets.

You were on your own, until you met Natasha. She was your agent, manager of your life, friend, big sister; everything.

She had put in a word for you and you had a few shoots with a couple of well-known brands during the past year, but as of right now – nothing was working out, and you could tell it was stressing her out.

 Nat looked up at you and smiled.

 “I know you won’t, I believe in you, Y/N. However, if tonight works out like I want it to, you might not even need to go to that casting tomorrow,” she finished with a wink, and a smirk.

Oh boy. You knew that look.

 “What does that mean? And why are we even going to that stupid art exhibition anyways?” you asked as the two of you stepped out of the elevator and walked out of the apartment building.

You tried your best not to trip on the fabric of your burgundy dress. It was a lovely evening gown, flowy and light; a satin so smooth that you could help but touch the fabric occasionally. It was definitely the kind of dress you couldn’t afford if it weren’t for Nat.

She knew designers who set you up with the outfit, and the jewelry.

 Catching a quick glimpse at yourself in the glass door of the building, you got in the passenger seat of Nat’s car.

 “It’s not just any art exhibition, its Sebastian Stan’s latest pieces. And rumor has it, he’s looking for an art model for his next project. And if you’re lucky enough, he might choose you,” Nat explained and you nodded.

“Where did you hear that rumor? Dude’s a millionaire, why would he need me? I’m sure he’ll go after one of the famous faces,” you spoke in a dull tone, your tiredness getting the best of you.

You had barely slept the night before.

 Nat took a sharp turn which startled you, causing you to glare at her playfully.

“He’s looking for a fresh face, someone who’s not all over the city. You might have a chance, just look interested and compliment his work if you ever see him,” Nat spoke, glancing over at you.

 You gave her a puzzled look.

You had heard about how good if an artist Sebastian Stan was, and you had heard the prices at which his pieces sold. But you had never seen him. There were no pictures of him anywhere, and you weren’t famous enough to personally mingle with a man of his caliber.

 “How would I recognize him? I’ve never seen him before, have you?”

 “Nope, but they say he’s very handsome, and charming,” Nat replied.

 You nodded and the rest of the car ride was silent. You got busy on your phone, or pretended to be busy rather. This industry was ruthless, everyone was fake. Natasha was your only friend at the moment.

 Minutes later, Nat parked outside a grandiose gallery and handed the key to the valet outside as the two of you made your way inside.

Nat held the two invites close to her and finally handed it over at the reception. The lady smiled and pointed you towards the entrance of the hall.

 “Everything and everyone here are so…expensive. How did you even get the invite?” you questioned, looking around, yet avoiding eye contact with everyone.

Your heels clicked against the marble floor as you walked behind Nat. She turned around and smirked at you.

 “I have connections, baby,” she winked again and paused in her tracks.

You stopped as well, and looked around, suddenly feeling very out of place.

 “Okay, I’m gonna to put a word in for you with a few people. I’m gonna need you to cooperate, alright? Straighten those shoulders, chin up, grab a wine, look pretty and talk to people, okay? Text me if there’s anything and remember, men like to be praised. If you run into Stan, work your magic,”

 Nat walked away quickly, swaying her hips on purpose and making every men, and women, in the room stare after her. You chuckled at her words and followed her instructions.

You grabbed a glass of white, sparkling wine, and walked around lazily, earning a few looks and smiles from men. You wondered if anyone of them was Sebastian Stan.

You looked at the art pieces and found that you actually enjoyed them. They were all painting of flowers, some were abstract even and the mess of colors were comforting in a sense. Chaos could be beautiful, right?

 You noticed that all of them were colored, except for the largest painting in the room. A rather large black and white sunflower in the furthest corner of the room; almost as if placed there so that no one would pay attention to it.

Colorless, but it was beautiful. Surprisingly, no one paid much attention to it, except for one man. You noticed a tall man, with his hand in his pocket and a wine glass in the other, just staring up at the canvas. He was standing there alone while everyone else was socializing.

Must be a fan, you thought.

 You felt naturally gravitated towards the man. You hadn’t seen his face yet, but his stance gave away a lot. As you walked over to him, you noticed the very expensive watch on his wrist as he raised his glass to his lips. His well-tailored, light grey suit added to his valor.

Just for a moment, you felt inferior. But Natasha’s words echoed in your head and it pushed you forward.

You walked up to him and stood right a few feet away, and noticed that his gaze were fixated on the painting.

 “Pretty, isn’t it?” you spoke, trying to incite a conversation.

The man finally turned his head to look at you, and just for a moment, he looked at you as if he had found the answer to each and every question he ever had. Wide-eyed and he looked as though he had been dreaming of this moment.  

You were immediately captivated by his dreamy, blue eyes. He was indeed, dreamy. His hair was messy, yet well groomed at the same time. A well-kept beard, he looked like your typical ladies’ man.

He broke out of whatever reverie he was caught up in and blinked, smiled and nodded.

 “You think?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. What a weird response.

 “Yeah, I mean I don’t understand art that much, but I think it stands out. I think it’s beautiful. Don’t you, I mean you’ve been admiring it for quite a while,” you spoke and smiled at him.

You didn’t miss the way he shamelessly eyed your body, his eyes lingering around the risqué slit of your gown which showed your legs. You looked down for a moment and then looked back at him as soon as he spoke up again.

 “An artist never admires his own work, doll. He looks for the flaws no one else can see,” as soon as those words left his mouth, you froze.

Fuck.

 “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were- I don’t -,”

He cut off your rambling by taking a couple of steps towards you.

 “It’s okay. What’s your name, doll?” he asked, his words carried a playful tone. His blue eyes bore into yours, making it very difficult for you to focus on anything else.

 “I… I’m-,”

 “Sebastian Stan, it’s lovely to meet you finally. I see you’ve met Y/N already,” Natasha spoke up from behind you and you mentally thanked God she was here.

 “Miss Romanoff, it’s a pleasure. Y/N is delightful,” he spoke, taking Nat’s hand and shaking it gently.

Natasha gave you a sly smirk which spoke volumes.

 “I’m sure you will consider her while making a choice for your next project, correct? Y/N will be in town, contact us whenever,” Nat, always so confident, spoke and gave Sebastian one of her very business-y smiles.

 Sebastian smiled back and glanced at you.

 “I assure you, I won’t forget her,” he said, his voice was velvety and soothing.

Those words repeated themselves in your mind all night.

After your brief interaction with the man of the hour, you and Nat walked around and talked to a few more people and she introduced you to people whose names you forgot almost instantly.

All night, you could shake off the fact that you felt as though you were being watched. A burning stare on your face or your back. And each time you turned around, you would find Sebastian eyeing you.

 You were okay with being watched, it formed part of your job to catch one’s attention, but there was something different about the way he was looking at you.

He wasn’t just looking, he was… studying almost; memorizing each curve and each feature. You wondered why.

 However, you very quickly got your answer.

  “Oh my god!” Nat exclaimed as soon as the two of you stepped into your apartment.

You sighed and took your heels off, throwing them carelessly onto the floor.

 “What now? Which lousy photographer needs a lingerie model right now?” you spoke from past experience. You had been there, and done that. And it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

 “It’s not- fuck! It’s Stan’s people! He wants to meet up with you tomorrow! Y/N, do you have any idea how big this is? This is amazing!” Nat was genuinely happy for you.

You were too, as this was probably the big break you needed.

 Nat went on and on about how this was good for your career and how lucky you are. She gave you all the details; time, address, along with some advice and left at around 2 a.m. As you laid in bed that night, you found yourself unable to fall asleep as the image of a certain blue-eyed handsome man kept resurfacing in your head.

  ---

  The next morning, Nat was at your door at 9 a.m. sharp. After a quick breakfast, the two of you set out.

She dropped you at Sebastian’s place an hour later, and you were a nervous wreck by the time you got there.

 “What if he makes me sit naked in front of him for hours? What if-,”

 “Y/N, don’t over think, please. Artists employ models privately all the time. He’s a decent man, don’t worry. Now go,” she urged you to step out of the car.

 “He could’ve asked for pictures, I- Nat, I’m scared, what if-,”

 “He’s an old soul, Y/N. The guy’s old-fashioned, you’ll be fine honey. Now get the fuck out, walk in there and everything will be fine, babe. Call me if there’s anything,”

You clutched your bag close to you and reluctantly stepped out of the car.

 Nat drove away as soon as you were out of the car, and it was just little you facing the lavish apartment building. Nat told you that he owned the penthouse on top. And that’s where you found yourself just minutes later.

Your heart pounded for some weird reasons, as you knocked on the wooden door. You heard footsteps approaching and you immediately started channeling your alter ego; the more confident, bubbly one.

 The door flew open, revealing a very handsome, blue eyed man.

Sebastian Stan.

Dressed in a simple white t-shirt, and black sweatpants, he looked much different than the night before. A bit more relaxed and casual if you will, but just as handsome.

 “Hi,” you chirped, smiling as bright as you could. He returned the smile.

 “Y/N, come on in. Oh and, excuse the mess,” he warned as he let you in. You chuckled as you walked in. Being who he is, the place was a true mess.

He had very minimal furniture, a couple of couches maybe and that was it. The walls looked like a child was given the freedom to do whatever he willed with it; paint and sketches adorned the cream walls.

The floor was tainted as well; stained with spilled paint. Crumbled newspapers, broken canvas, and paint brushes littered the entirety of the room.

He laughed nervously as you took in the room more and more.

 “I don’t live here by the way, I’m not an animal I promise. This is more like a workshop,” he explained, standing right behind you as you stopped briefly and stared at one of the unfinished painting on a canvas on the floor.

 “Why didn’t you complete that one?” you asked, curious as to why he left the artwork unfinished.

 He chuckled.

 “Couldn’t find the right inspiration, that’s been happening a lot lately,” he spoke, and you caught the despair in his voice.

 “Oh, I’m sorry,” you involuntarily took a step towards him. He stayed put and allowed you to approach him.

 “It’s alright, doll. That’s why you’re here today. If you’re good, can we start?” he asked, with excitement in his eyes.

 You smiled and nodded. He immediately rushed to grab his stuff; an easel, a blank canvas and he picked up a few brushes along the way. He was such a mess it was adorable. And you had to refrain yourself from laughing as you watched him avoid the empty paint cans and broken canvas on the floor.

He set everything up in front of a couch and grabbed a stool.

 “Come here, doll,” he called out to you, grabbing a couple of pencils off the ground. The endearing nickname he gave you made you feel a certain ways. And the way he said it, the way his voice got softer and how his eyes sparkled had you feeling tingly everywhere.

 You walked over to where he was and stood on front of his canvas. You dropped your bag and waited for his instructions.

He eyed you and the corners of his mouth lifted again; smiling softly at you.

 “Take your clothes off,” he spoke softly. His voice was smooth, and velvety, yet – something changed in him.

He seemed more observant, and more focused once you took your white top off; revealing your lacy, nude bra.

Nat had chosen it, and you couldn’t tell whether it was a preference or a requirement which came from Sebastian.

Either way, it seemed to work as he had a pleasant smile on his face as you stripped.

 Next were your pants, taking them off revealed your nude thong and your bare legs.

 “Perfect,” he spoke, standing up and walking towards you. You were fine with being in very little clothing, but there was something about the way he looked at you which made you feel a certain way.

 He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the black couch. He sat you down and eyed your body again; observing, studying, and thinking – all while twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers.

You looked up at him; and he was majestic. There was an innocence in his eyes, yet, a mischief.

 “Lose the bra,” he spoke and your face burned red as soon as the words escaped his mouth.

 “Pardon?” you asked, almost out of instinct. Well, it wasn’t everyday a famous painter had you in his place, sat you down on his couch and asked you to strip.

 “It’s alright, doll. We’re gonna do some sketches today, we’ll try different poses and props and then you can be back tomorrow so we can work some more. Sound good?” his voice was calming, and comforting.

Honestly, if felt as though he had you under his spell. You would follow him anywhere if he simply asked you to.

 “Okay,” you whispered and he smiled and left temporarily.

 You stood up and unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall down carelessly. Right as it did, you felt a presence behind you.

Keeping your shyness under control, you lifted your chin up and faced him with fake confidence. He eyed you for a second and then looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hands.

Sunflowers.

 You smiled at the irony, temporarily forgetting that you were standing in front of him in nothing but a nude colored thong.

 “I couldn’t color the sunflower last time. I have a feeling I will this time, because I have my muse now. Here you go, doll,” he smiled and handed you the flowers, and you understood that that would be your first prop.

 Sebastian sat on his stool and observed you for another minute while you settled among the pillows of the couch, bending your leg under you.

You held the sunflowers in front of you as a means to hide your chest but also showing enough to keep someone guessing.

Sebastian gave you a smile, and began working on the canvas. You heard his grunts, and sighs and the strokes of his pencil against the canvas. You had to stay still, so you admired the flowers in your hand.

He worked quickly, and made rough sketches as much as he could, and then gave you another prop. Next was a clean, white bed sheet; which you wrapped sensually around you – barely covering anything as you looked directly at him.

You watched how he chewed on the top of a pencil while another one was in his hand, making rapid movements against the canvas. He had nothing but determination in his eyes each time he looked at you and then back at the canvas.

 2 hours later, you were done for the day. He showed you the canvas he used and laughed when you told him all you saw was a mess of lines and curves.

“It’ll make more sense when it’s done. You were so good today, doll. Thank you,” he smiled as you got dressed.

 You were having trouble putting on your bra again so he hooked it for you. The two of you seemed much more comfortable with one another, and nudity was no longer a problem on your part. You trusted him, and he made you feel safe, in some ways you couldn’t explain.

His warm fingers brushed against your back as he adjusted the straps of your bra and allowed his fingers to linger around the back of your neck; making you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he whispered under his breath and you turned around to face him. He was standing so close that your faces were merely inches away from one another.

 “Thank you, Sebastian,” you whispered, and for a very brief moment, your eyes flicked to his lips. Parted, pink and sinful – they were tempting. He was tempting.

It felt as though he inched forward for a quick second, but he caught himself before he did something unexpected.

He cleared his throat as he backed away and gave you space to put your shirt back on.

 “I texted Miss Romanoff, she’s waiting for you downstairs,” he spoke, as he had to force himself to keep his hands from touching you.

He was utterly under your spell. He felt as though he would take any leap of faith if you just asked him too. He was whipped ever since he first saw you that night at his exhibition.

 You exchanged a brief goodbye and he watched you as you left. He mentally cursed at how gracefully you walked out of his messy penthouse.

Your hips swaying; teasing the living shit out of him.

 The past few hours with you had been a blessing and a curse. He knew he did many double takes while drawing because he was so easily distracted by you. As if your face wasn’t pretty enough, you absolutely had to have a body which could make a man lose his mind. And your eyes… oh your eyes.

They had a playfulness in them, but they also held a mischievous promise.

Sebastian was never one who would get so attached to someone so fast, but damn did he feel all the butterflies in the world whenever he thought about you.

Earlier, he had to refrain himself from walking over to where you were and have his way with way with you on the couch itself. But he knew he couldn’t. You trusted him, and he had to be careful.

What he could do though, is elongate the process. He could stretch it so you spend more time with him than needed. It was selfish and unprofessional, but he had to.

 Sebastian stood in the middle of his messy room and took his phone out, naming the amount he needed to pay you to his people. His assistant was shocked for a moment, and asked him to confirm. He repeated it.

Five grands. He thought you deserved it.

 ---

 When Nat called you later that night to tell you about the payment, you were shocked.

“Nat, something must be wrong. Most art models make under a hundred dollars an hour! Five fucking thousand, are you sure?” you asked, yelling into the phone.

Nat was sure.

Good God.

 -

  You were to meet up with him the next day as well, and you thought you should bring it up.

 For today’s session he had you in a very expensive looking, red gown made of pure silk. You had a deep, deep cleavage, and the back of the dress was practically non-existent. But it was beautiful. And looked like it cost a fortune.

 Sebastian drew you at a different location, and a different angle. He was closer now, and you were on the floor, amongst the crumpled newspapers and paint brushes and broken canvas; sat on a pillow.

You pointed out the evident mess and Sebastian called it his organized chaos.

You laughed.

A few moments of silence later, you believed you should bring up the payment.

 “So, um, Sebastian?”

 “Yes, doll?” he replied from behind the canvas, which was so large that it hide his body entirely.

 “About yesterday’s payment… uh, I think there might’ve been a mistake while they were writing the check given to Nat,” you spoke, trying your best not to move while you spoke.

He lowered his hand and moved aside to face you; a puzzled look on his face.

“Why would you say that?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

 You shrugged.

 “I don’t – its just, that’s a lot more money than I was expecting and-,”

 Sebastian stood up, and started walking over to where you sat. Your words cut short. You watched him as he carefully avoided the mess on the floor and squatted down in front of you.

His hand reached out and touched your face. He was silent, as his fingers caressed your cheek, and you had to resist the urge to lean into the warmth of his hand.

 “You’re not just any art model, doll. You’re my muse. You’re what I need, okay? You deserve it,” he spoke and leaned forward again, but quickly stood up.

 Sebastian suggested you should take a break.

 Minutes later, you finished that day’s session.

   ---

 A week had passed, and you had visited Sebastian every day, and spent hours with him. It might sound boring, but he was an amazing company. He had travelled the world, so he often told you stories which made you laugh.

You told him the story of your life, and how your parents did not support your dreams. And how it sucked.

And he told you about how he came from a modest family, and how he initially started painting to earn extra money to contribute to his family’s income; and how he fell in love with art and made a successful career out of it.

He was an interesting man, a little old fashioned like Nat had pointed out; but interesting nonetheless. You learned that he was much older than you were, and he pretended he was 70 and had funny ‘opinions’ on today’s youth.

He was a good company.

 Yet, you were still shocked with each check he sent with Nat, they were hefty.

 On Sunday, he had something urgent to attend to, so your session was at night. He had contacted Nat and had asked her to let you know that he would be waiting for you at around 8 30 p.m.

And there you were, always punctual whenever he called.

When you reached his door however, something was different. There was a scent which lingered around. It smelt like peaches and vanilla. Smelt like summer, and happiness.

 You frowned and knocked on the door. Sebastian was at the door almost immediately; smiling and looking good as ever in his grey t-shirt and black sweatpants – covered in spots of paint.

You smiled back, and noticed that the room behind him was darker. Much darker than normal.

 He invited you in and the scene did surprise you a bit. The lights were off, and there were at least a hundred candles lit – everywhere.

And it all smelt divine. You smiled as you looked around, and Sebastian watched you intently.

 “I wanted to change things up a little. I hope that’s okay,” he asked, biting his lower lip.

Oh fuck.

 “Oh- yeah, I- I mean, it’s so beautiful. I guess I didn’t know artists paint at night, in dimmed lights but oh well,” you added, making him chuckled.

 He stared into your eyes for a while, and you did the same.

 You wondered if he was silently trying to convey something, or was he just doing his job and studying you in this light.

While he wondered what Sunday nights would be like if you were his. Would it be like this? Would there be scented candles, and wine maybe?

Maybe he’d have you in his lap, both of you wearing nothing while he painted, or teach you how to draw and watch you fail because you simply cannot do it.

Perhaps you’d fuck on the couch, or the floor. Or maybe you’d like his real home better than the workshop.

 He broke out of the reverie and cleared his throat.

 You lowered your gaze as well. You didn’t know how else to describe, but there was this pull. This invisible thread which connected the two of you. None of you saw it, but both of you felt it.

 “We should get to work, yeah?” he spoke, avoided eye contact and walked past you.

 You sighed, trying you best to ignore the sudden tension in the room.

 “Yeah, what do you want me to wear today?” you asked, smiling; just like you did every other day. Some days he had gowns, other days he had other props, or even flowers.

 He picked up a pencil from the ground, a few feet away from you and stood up straight to meet your eyes again.

 “Nothing,” he replied, his eyes soft and shiny in the candle light. The blue in his eyes were enchanting.

 You didn’t question his decision, Nat had told you not to. And given he paid you way more than he needed to, you agreed immediately.

Sebastian smirked initially, but his smirk disappeared as soon as you took your top off, then your skirt. You wore a matching set of red underwear that day, and you took that off as well; letting it fall soundlessly on the floor.

Shoulders straight, chin up, you faced him with confidence, and a polite smile. After all, you were only doing your job.

 It was your turn to smirk as he allowed his eyes to shamelessly take in your bare appearance. His soft, pink lips parted as you took a step forward.

 “Where do you want me?” you asked, in your ‘I-mean-business’ voice. You could tell that the question took him off guard, perhaps it was the way you had phrased it. Both of you caught the subtle naughtiness in your words.

 “I- yeah… the couch. The couch, first,” he stuttered. And your smirk grew wider as you walked past him, avoiding the candles and making your way towards the brown couch.

As you walked by him, you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter ‘Holy fucking shit’ under his breath. Whatever, you looked good and you knew it.

  Making your way on the couch, you settled down and waited for his instructions. He handed you a red, silky fabric, which you carelessly threw around your waist; hiding your private parts even though he had already seen every inch of your skin.

Sebastian settled behind the canvas which he already had set up and picked up his pencils. He looked back at you and started drawing and the lines on his forehead appeared again. He looked so adorable when he was focused on something.

Then you noticed things about him which you didn’t before; the bags under his eyes, the little grey patch in his full beard, the way he raised his eyebrow occasionally, and the little smirk after he did something right, or the little frown when he messed up.

You admired him.

 He did too.

He knew your body by heart, each curve and each feature. He knew the exact color he would use to paint your lips, and your eyes.

He knew exactly how to draw your hair, on some days it was messy, some days it was pin straight, and his personal favorite was when you let it down in soft curls.

He found himself fantasizing about you right in front of you. Whenever you left, he often laid on the couch and dreamed about what it would be like to have you on top of him.

He felt the tension in between you too, and he didn’t know what to do about it. All he could focus on was the canvas; luckily it hid the hard on in his pants.

 “Are you alright, Sebastian?” you asked out of nowhere. Hidden behind the canvas, Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment. Your voice did things to him.

 “Yeah, I’m fine, doll. Why?”

 “It’s just, you’ve been very silent,” you replied. He smirked, loving how well you observed him.

 He peeked from behind the canvas, the smirk still very visible on his face. His eyes momentarily flicked to your exposed breasts and then back to your face.

You had red lipstick on today, he liked it. And desperately wanted to ruin it with his own lips.

 Mindlessly, he stood up and approached you. You thought it was time to change the location or grab another prop but instead, he knelt in front of you.

His eyes sparkled in the dimmed lights; soft yet hungry. His hair was messy, and his shirt was covered in paint still, he looked good.

You leaned forward and looked down at him, neither of you minding that your breasts were right in his face.

His eyes never left yours as his hand reached out and cupped your face. You let him.

His thumb caressed your cheek, and this time, you did lean into his touch and felt the warmth of his hand against your skin.

 Nothing had to be said, you both knew what the other wanted. Like earlier, you felt the pull again.

 Sebastian pulled you towards him and connected his lips to yours in no time. His soft lips moved perfectly along with yours.

Your hands left the satin sheet and cupped his face, his beard soft against the palm of your hands.

His hunger could be felt through the kiss; tongue slipping into your mouth without any warning. And you returned the ardor he felt for you.

He kissed you feverishly, scared to let go of you just yet. He wanted more, and so did you.

 He pulled away for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath. He panted against your lips, and so did you.

 “I want you, so fucking bad,” he whispered, blue eyes scanning your face for any objection. And when he didn’t find any, he smirked again.

 “I want you too,” you whispered, looking into his clear, blue eyes which you loved so much.

 He pecked your lips again and pushed you back into the couch, your back against the messily thrown cushions.

You sighed as he slowly removed the satin sheet off your body, and placed it side carefully. His hands ran down your thighs and reached your knees. His eyes remained focused on your face as he parted your legs; inching forward and settling in between them.

His hand ran down your legs and your skin felt tingly at his touch. He bit his lip as he noticed that your folds were damp already.

His hand reached out and he ran his knuckles along your wet folds, making you shudder at his mere touch.

 “All that for me?” he teased, and you nodded, giggling at how the two of you were casually getting cozy in the middle of a messy workshop.

Sebastian placed an innocent kiss on your inner thigh and you gasped.

 “I deserve to get a taste then,” he whispered, face dangerously close to your core. You bit your lip and nodded, anticipating what he had in store for you.

 He placed his hands on your thighs and spread your legs further apart and attached his lips to your core without a second thought; the lower half of his face completely submerged into your dripping core.

You moaned out loud involuntarily as you felt his warm mouth on top of your dripping core. His tongue slipped past your folds and teased your entrance; occasionally flicking your sensitive bud mercilessly.

 Your hands immediately gripped his hair and tugged gently at his roots. Wet sounds erupted from where his mouth latched on to your core, and the sight was just as sinful.

 A man of his caliber, on his knees in front of you, his head in between your legs and his mouth touching your body in the most intimate way possible. Pleasure and an unusual power washed over you.

You whimpered under his touch, feeling his beard rubbing against your soft skin; it burned a little, but you enjoyed each and every second of it and craved for more.

 Sebastian’s beard glistened in the candlelight; your arousal drenching the lower half of his face as he ate you out relentlessly until you were nothing but a moaning, hot mess, squirming on the couch.

“Fuck…” you moaned out loud as your back arched off the couch for just a moment, your eyes closing and your head leaning back as you felt a wave of intense pleasure wash over you.

 “Fuck! Come on, baby, come for me,” he whispered and got back to assault your sensitive spot with his warm and wet tongue; relishing your taste.

You didn’t have to be told twice, and the pressure was building up nicely as well. So with a few more strokes of his skilled tongue, you let go and gushed out all over his face.

He didn’t stop even then, he kept at it while your orgasm washed over you; lapping up whatever you gave him. He couldn’t get enough of you.

 You chanted his name, moaning at how good he made you feel. That boosted his pride immensely.

 He licked you clean and kissed your thighs a few more times before finally standing up, admiring how much of a mess you were; panting, and trembling just with his tongue.

 “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, looking down at you.

 You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, and sat up on your knees. Your heels pressing on your ass cheeks and you pulled him closer by the waistband of his sweats.

He smirked, and let you, stepping closer to your face.

You lowered down his pants, and bit your lip when you saw that he wore nothing underneath. You looked up at him and wondered if he had this all planned. Either way, you were in way too deep now. And you wanted him so bad it actually hurts.

You ignored your throbbing clit as you held his member gently in your hand. Feeling the velvety skin which made your mouth water.

You gently stroked his cock, and noticed that his tip was leaking already. You brushed your thumb across his tip and heard him groan.

 “May I?” you asked, looking up at him; knowing perfectly well that he wouldn’t even dream about refusing you.

 “I’m all yours, doll. Do with me as you please,” he whispered, his hand cupping your face as the other one brushed your hair gently. His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

 Without wasting a second, you took him into your mouth; pushing him in further inch by inch while he groaned about how good you felt.

Your hand reached down and toyed with his balls while you slowly took him out and pushed him back into your mouth again, bobbing your head around his tip.

He gripped your hair gently and told you how much of a good girl you were.

 His taste and scent was all you could focus on; his strong body wash and his raw taste, the occasional saltiness of his cum and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth. You felt the veins, and his firm cock ramming in and out of your mouth.

He bucked his hips forward very gently into your mouth, and loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked magnificent on your knees, taking him perfectly.

 You felt his muscles tightened under your touch, and you knew he wouldn’t last much longer. So you quickened your pace, and he moaned your name over and over again as he reached his high.

With one rough push into your mouth, you felt him come undone. His cum trickled down your throat and you swallowed him obediently.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth and bent down to look at you from up close. You lips were swollen, and spit ran down your chin along with his cum. You were panting; an overall mess. Yet, he believed you were beautiful. Magnificent.

 His eyes were darker, and he was silent again; just observing you while you caught your breath. He pressed his lips to yours and slipped his tongue back into your mouth, eagerly.

You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could; your breasts, your waist – leaving trails of goose bumps wherever his fingers touched your skin.

 Removing his mouth from yours, he stood up again and took his shirt off, and his pants; leaving him just as bare as you were.

And God, he was beautiful. Perfect.

 He climbed onto the couch and lowered his body until he hovered just inches above you. His strong arms supported him above you and your hands gripped onto his broad shoulders.

 He looked into your eyes for a brief moment then his head dipped into the crook of your neck; biting your skin and making you squirm and giggle under him.

You felt his body heat around you, and everything was right in the world.

 “Fuck… do you have any fucking idea what you do to me? Do you know how hard it was getting through this week? With you sat there naked in front of me the whole time, doll, I was losing my fucking mind,” he whispered along your skin. His hair tickled your skin and you smiled, closing your eyes and relishing his touch.

The tip of his nose ran along your throat and right to your ear, where he whispered all his obscene thoughts, making you blush.

While he did so, you felt something firm press against your thigh, and you smirked at the effect you had on him.

 “Well, I’m here now. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and he lifted his head and stared into your eyes again.

Fuck, he was beautiful from up close.

 Without another word said, he pressed his lips to yours and lifted his hips to align his cock to your entrance. You spread your legs apart to give him more room.

His hand reached down and he pumped his cock, rubbing it all over your dripping core in the process.

 “I know you will, doll. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re shaking under me,” he whispered a promise in your ear; one which caused the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. A promise you hoped he’d keep.

 With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. You shuddered as you felt all of him, his beard tickled your skin as he kissed your lips repeatedly and told you how good you were.

You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again.

You moaned out loud, unable to hold back the sound which escaped your lips. You blushed right after, and he noticed.

 “No one’s up here, babe. Let me hear you,” he whispered into your ear and kissed the skin beneath your jaw.

You let out a moan as he found your sweet spot, and felt him smirk against your skin.

 You moaned again and again as he bit and licked the skin beneath your jaw, all while slamming into you relentlessly; stretching you and pounding into you like his life depended on it.

Your nails sank into his skin as you felt a pressure forming around your lower region. Sebastian quickened his pace and pounded into you harder than before; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the empty room.

The candlelight made his skin seem golden and you mentally admitted that he was more beautiful than any artwork ever made.

He thought the same about you.

 Your legs trembled as you wrapped them around his waist. The new position was much more pleasurable for the two of you; the tip of his cock touched your most sensitive spots and your back arched off the couch – your chest pressing against his.

 “Fuck…” his voice cracked as he whimpered in your ear. He somehow sounded vulnerable and dominant at the same time, and it messed you up in a good way.

 You felt your walls clench around him, and tightening around his thick member; making him swear out loud.

 “Shit! I’m gonna need you to come for me, doll. Come on,” he panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand.

 He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out his name as you came – hard.

You whimpered at how he kept slamming into you even after you came, and your face burned as you felt the knot forming again right at your core.

Sebastian fucked you relentlessly; not even stopping even for a second. He panted and groaned at how good you felt and wished for this moment to last forever.

 Unable to form coherent sentences, you moaned as you felt your second release approaching. Your legs were numb, and your body moved along with his like a rag doll; yet, you wanted more of what he had to give. You craved him.

A rush coursed through your veins as you felt your mind clouding with lust again.

 A series of cuss words left your lips as you came for the second time in a row, walls tightening around his length.

He bit down on your shoulder as you lifted your hips to meet his thrust; chasing your release. Your body trembled under him as you came again; gushing out around his cock while he still pounded into you. This man had a stamina you weren’t sure you could match.

 “Fuck! You okay, doll?” he asked, worry all over his face as he looked down at you; his cock still buried deep in you.

You nodded, and focused on calming down your breathing while your heartbeats rang in your ear. His blue eyes made you feel safe.

You knew he hadn’t cum yet, and the look in his eyes gave away that he was far from being done.

 “That was… amazing,” you panted and he bent down to kiss your forehead, chuckling.

 “Sure was, doll. But I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his warm breath fanning your face.

You noticed the thin layer of sweat which formed on his skin, and how he slowly removed his still erected cock out of you.

You whimpered as you felt a void where he had been, snug into you just moments before. He was right there, and yet, you missed him.

 He sat back on his heels, and pulled you up along with him. Trembling, you sat up in front of him and he smiled softly down at you.

His hand reached out and tugged on your swollen lower lip.

 “You’re fucking beautiful,” he spoke as he got off the couch and asked you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

You knelt in front of him on the couch, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch while your back faced him. You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was there – right behind you.

His hand gripped your hair gently, and pulled back just enough so you saw part of him.

 His lips hovered over the side of your throat and his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously rubbed the skin around your clit and making you tremble.

You were worn out, and you weren’t sure you would last very long. But he was seductively persuasive.

“Just one more time, baby. One more,” his voice was deep and gravelly when he spoke in your ear, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds.

 His hand gripped your hair and tugged on it, harsher than earlier and his action elicited an involuntary moan out of you.

 Once you nodded, frowning at how you wanted him to completely ruin you.

He pulled back from your neck and kissed along your shoulders. He pushed you forward, making your ass stick out against him.

His hand left your hair and he gripped each side of your hips, tightly. He pushed into you without a word said; earning a sinful moan out of you.

He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you – this time chasing his own release along with yours.

Your knuckles gripped the back of the couch tightly, and your head lowered as your felt the familiar pressure forming again in no time, given you were already so sensitive from before.

You were barely able to keep yourself up, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you would’ve collapsed on the couch long ago.

 “So fucking good to me, so fucking good…” Sebastian spoke in a haze, and you barely heard him as the only thing you focused on was the sounds your bodies made when in contact with one another; along with your whimpers and his incoherent words.

The air around you smelt of sex, sweat, the scent of the candles and Sebastian’s cologne.

 You moaned, worn-out and still craving more and more of him.

You could feel the soreness his touch would leave behind, and the bite on your neck, and all of the other marks he left on your skin. You knew you would wear them all proudly.

 With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls.

You tightened around him, and he groaned and whispered your name quite a few times before coming undone; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

He panted as he threw himself on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you.

You felt his cum flowing out of you and onto the couch, but none of you minded it in the least. Sebastian was happy with you in his arms; messy, and covered with marks he left behind on your skin – you were the most beautiful thing he had seen.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, and smiled. You had met him just over a week ago, yet it seemed like your heart knew him since forever.

He traced imaginary shapes on your skin, and when you looked down, you noticed that his fingers ran along the stretch marks on your waist and your thighs. You smiled up at him and he gave you the most charming smile you had ever seen.

 “Be mine,” he simply whispered, kissing your damp forehead.

You giggled and kissed his cheek.

 “Sorry, I don’t date messy men,” you joked, your hand reaching out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch.

He chuckled and looked around. The place was a mess, most candles were melted, paint was everywhere, and he had countless of unfinished work. Yet, even the chaos made sense when you were in his arms.

 “I adore you, doll. And I’ll do anything for you. Just, be mine. I really love having you around,” he picked your hand and brought your knuckles up to his lips, peppering your fingertips with kisses.

 You smiled at the sweet gesture. You were already his the moment he touched you.

 “Think about it, I won’t roam around naked all the time,” you joked again, and sat up straighter in his arms; placing your trembling legs on either side of his lap and straddling his thighs. While you faced him, his hands grabbed your ass and pushed you against him even more.

 “I’m totally fine with that, doll. Just fucking say yes already!” he pushed his face into the crook of your neck and kissed your skin repeatedly, making you giggle again.

 You said yes.

And he made love to you again that night; in the shower, against your front door when he went to drop you home, in your bed where he stayed until the morning.

Eventually, Sebastian showed you the pieces he made, and you were in awe. All of them were black and white, yet all the props were in color. The red gown was painted, and the sunflowers were as well. And he ended up using the one with the sunflowers as his main piece at his next exhibition.

Surprisingly, none of the pieces which involved you were up for sale, as he said he didn’t want people gawking at ‘his girl’.

He kept all of it as a private collection after the exhibition.

 Life with him was blissful, and you loved all of it. The highs and the lows, and laughter and tears, the fights and the make-up – all of it.

 ---

A/N: A happy ending?! OMG who is she?

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