#mandatory security cameras

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Mandates CCTV Installation Across Key Establishments

SDO Parul Singh issues directive for citywide surveillance; 60-day compliance period Jamshedpur to enhance security with mandatory CCTV installation at various establishments, as ordered by SDO Parul Singh. JAMSHEDPUR – SDO Parul Singh has issued a directive that mandates the implementation of CCTV in critical establishments throughout Jamshedpur in order to enhance the city’s security and…

[deafsignifcantother]

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

.

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remote down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

.

.

.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, party scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

.

.

.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.” 

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before). 

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame. 

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips. 

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.” 

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

[chlorinecake]

❝ TADAIMA ❞ ✦ — 𝐎.𝐒𝐓 🍙

PAIRING: Pervy Homestay Roommate Shotaro x F. Reader

GENRE: Smut, Enemies to Fuckers, Set in Japan

SYNOPSIS: While on a 2-week trip in Japan for a cultural research project, you end up boarding with the strangest man imaginable: He’s dirt rich, unemployed, and triples as a pervert…

WARNINGS: KINKTOBER SPECIAL, swearing, mentions of EJ from &TEAM, voyeurism kink, mutual masturbation, shotaro gets drunk at a restaurant once, use of sex toys (a vibrating dildo), handjob, clit play, kissing, switch!taro x switch!reader, minor use of the japanese language (sorry if its cringe or inaccurate lol)

WORD COUNT: 7.5k (I still don't know how that happened) — DAY 3

COLLEGE: A JOURNEY that most folks, including yourself, viewed as a grueling scam that ironically accessorized an equally crooked work-system proceeding the four mandatory years of academic suffrage.

But at the end of the day, every scam succeeded on the back of fraud, and if you were gonna get something worthwhile from your college experience, that is, beyond just a fancy diploma to hang on a wall, you’d have to adapt the same dirty playbook...

Skipping over some boring ass details here, but you decided to become a cultural studies major at your university for the sole benefit of being able to jet off around the globe once every autumn for free, and it was honestly the best.

Taking free trips so long as you tackle some pointless academic assignment almost felt like cheating... or better yet, like living life on easy mode...

Your current voyage was set to explore a place in Asia, specifically the humble city of Tokyo, Japan.

You’d be traveling alone for 2 weeks alongside a homestay family that your academic advisor arranged for you to stay with.

Brimming with excitement, you remember promptly leaving the airport with your bags secured and a camera in hand, eager to begin your overseas adventure in a foreign land!

Unfortunately though, your enthusiasm quickly waned the moment you arrived at your homestay host's doorstep, which brings me to introduce your internal eyeroll as provoked by the one and only Shotaro Osaki, a.k.a. the menacing man in his early twenties that you'd be sharing a home with until you returned back home 14 days later...

TIMESTAMP: 1日目

“Not to sound rude or anything, but I was expecting a host family...” you specified at the front door while kicking off your shoes, shocked to only find two young men occupying the large home.

“And that’s exactly what we are, silly!... Me, plus my friend Shotaro here, plus you equalsss... well, one big happy family!” Euijoo Byeon, the taller and younger of the two, chirped reassuringly, but his efforts still didn't aid your confusion.

“Correction: "Host family" is just a mainstream term, and doesn't strictly refer to full families only... kinda like in this case where I'm the actual homeowner and EJ's just a friendly freeloader,” Shotaro clarified, but you found yourself focusing on his facial features more than any of the words that came out of his mouth so far...

His pearly doe-eyes, button nose, heart-shaped lips, thick hair, and even his angular jawline... it all garnered your attention—

“Heyyy, I'm not a freeloader!” Euijoo defended himself with a forced pout, “I contribute around here pretty often with the homestay students, in case you forgot...”

“Please, you already know that everyone who steps foot under my roof is obligated to serve me in one way or another... including you, ____-chan.”

He smiled as he said those words, looking you dead in the eye with his hands in his pockets.

“Excuse me?” You asked in utter shock at his bold statement.

“Oh, c'mon... acts of service are my love language... that is... right after physical touch...” Shotaro said with a deep sigh, right before taking a few lazy steps until there was no more than a gentle push separating you two.

A brief silence filled the room until EJ helped himself to moving your suitcases from the front door, and off to another room as the sudden business reminded Shotaro to stay on track with you.

“Follow me as I take you on a brief tour of the house, please...”

His home was adorned with beautiful Japanese calligraphy paintings, elegant Shoji screens, and a stunning view of cherry blossoms in the living room. The scent of green tea roamed the halls, but the room you’d be staying in had its own scent… similar to that of cardboard… and grass...

It was like its own little secluded hideaway from the rest of the home, and you felt honored to have such a nice space all to yourself.

“I recently added this extra room to the place after my last homestay student trashed the first space… that’s why it still smells a little… earthy in here,” Shotaro said as if he'd just read your mind.

“Oh, I don’t mind the scent at all!” You replied, hoping that your gratitude was evident. “I really appreciate you even giving me this room...” your voice trailed off, but only because you noticed that Euijoo had helped himself to fully UNLOAD your luggage items now...

“Euijoo-san, thank you for carrying all of this for me, but I can take care of my belongings myself from here,” you said in the most patient tone you could muster.

“Oh, that's nonsense…” he responded with a swatting hand, “you just got off an exhausting plane ride and deserve a break... Besides, it's a joy for me to help homestay students, anyway...”

“Euijoo-san, seriously, I’ve got it,” you said more casually this time, and in a failed effort to hide the anxiety and frustration growing within you.

The tension was almost unbearable for you in this moment—

“You’ve got some pretty nice clothes, by the way, ____-chan,” the young man went on, flipping through your clothes as if they were pages in a comic book.

“T-thank you,” you said shyly, really feeling your face burn up as he slowly started to put your items into the bedroom dresser one by one.

And his hands were so meticulous, too... carefully refolding any pieces that got jumbled up on the way here... you'd otherwise be exceedingly grateful for Euijoo's help if it weren't for the eight-inch secret you were hiding in one of your suitcase compartments—

“Wait, what’s this?” Shotaro asked with raised brows, his otter-like features causing a pit to form in your stomach as he reached over EJ’s shoulder, grabbing the cylindrically wrapped up scarf from your exposed luggage.

Similarly to Euijoo's movements, Shotaro's hands began to slowly unwrap the item, and at this point, you couldn't hold yourself back anymore.

“Shotaro-san, don’t touch that please!” You yelped, snatching the cloth from his hand as both confused and intrigued faces surrounded you now.

Shotaro, being the menace that he was, shook his head in response, almost as if judging you for reading in such a way,,, “You know what they say about secrets, ____-chan… it’s only a matter of time before they come to light…”

His voice held a cheeky undertone that made you internally wanna kick him in his gonads, but instead, those instincts were cut off by a faint buzzing sound.

It was coming from behind the cloth you held securely in your hands, and perhaps almost too securely given how you’d just accidentally triggered the ON-button on the damned thing...

“Is that a..?” Euijoo began to ask with his own puppy-like eyes rounding innocently, but Shotaro nudged his friend's leg.

“Can you go check the mailbox? I think the package I order just arrived a few minutes ago…”

“But the mailbox is so far from here... plus, you don’t even order stuff online these days—”

“Euijoo, do as I say…” Shotaro said more sternly this time, and EJ simply chuckled awkwardly before bowing his head slightly to display apology,

“Sorry, Oniisan,” he smiled facetiously, right before standing up from where he sat and stammering out of the room.

Shotaro waited until he heard Euijoo open and close the front door of the house before saying anything else to you, which only led to you saying something first.

“NOW do you see why I said I could handle my own belongings?” You asked rhetorically, just as you turned off the toy by pressing the OFF-button through the fabric, ceasing the vibration sound that once filled the entire room.

“Yup... I see it crystal clear,” Shotaro smirked to himself before continuing, “I’ll give you your space though after you let me see what you're hiding first… promise...”

And with that, you had more than enough verbal evidence from Shotaro to confirm that he was a raging pervert...

“You... you wanna see my toy?” You asked again despite how obvious the answer was, but only because you were in utter disbelief of his shameless offer.

“Yes,” he clarified with a plain expression, poking his lips out slightly, “and then I’ll leave you alone right after I get what I want... It’s a simple condition, really…”

You flashed him a dead-pan look to which he simply shrugged, right before leaning down to dig inside your suitcase once again.

“Alright, let’s seeee… what other surprises do you have in here?… ooo, I think I feel something—”

“Okay, enough!” You said in a raised tone, making the strange man smile for reasons you didn't understand, “I’ll let you see it, okay? Just... get your hands outta there immediately!”

“No problem, missy...” he practically whispered, standing up from the ground with a proud look plastered across his now irritating face, making you feel all the more embarrassed...

Still, there was something about the awkwardness that made you feel hot all over, and you were hoping it was just because there wasn't a ceiling fan in the room..

With slow movements and a deeply exasperated exhale, you finally pulling back the cloth encasing the item, just enough for him to get a fair peak.

And to your surprise, you almost hurled with his eyes sparkling with yet another glint of excitement...

“So... you’re a dildo kinda girl, huh? A vibrating one must've been pretty pricey, though... how’d you even get past security with this thing?”

“Luck, I guess…” you muttered awkwardly, right before abruptly swatting his hand away as he reached to pull back more fabric. “Hey! You look with your eyes, mister, not your hands…”

“My apologies,” he chuckled once again, both at your words and the way your palms felt a bit clammy when you touched him...

He couldn't help himself from having dirty thoughts about you, either... your nervousness from simply showing him your sex toy was just too adorable to ignore… he wondered how nervous you’d get if you ever let him use it on you one day—

“Shotaro-san, you can leave now,” you said plainly, reminding him of his part of the deal as he clearly got lost in his thoughts on the accident...

“Okay okay, I’m going…” he said, stepping over a few clothing pieces that EJ had left scattered across the room floor while making his way to the door.

“Oh, and I thought I should mention, there’s a convenience store a few blocks from here that sells sex toys, too… specifically from the more portable variety, though…”

SHOTARO WAS QUICK to establish a list of “house rules” for you to abide by the very next day of your stay.

Needless to add, but yes, you were a stranger in his home, so of course you expected him to set boundaries for you to follow, and you respected that for the most part… or at least, that was until his proposals started to get a bit over-the-top for your taste...

TIMESTAMP: 2日目

“Anyways, curfew is 8 p.m.,” Shotaro stated while leaning against a wall in his kitchen, arms crossed over his chest as if the pose would make you take him more—

“Seriously?” You asked in utter shock, though, as per usual, he obviously wasn’t joking.

“Yes, seriously… and if any instances arise where you find yourself struggling to comply with the set curfew, you will promptly be asked to turn over your spare key privileges…”

Euijoo was once again stuck in the middle of all of this, awkwardly sipping from a bowl of soup as the tension between you grew so thick, he could cut it with a knife.

“Fine,” you shrugged, already having had enough of going back in forth with him, as this wasn’t even the first disagreement y’all had had that morning…

TIMESTAMP: 3日目

The days were flying by fast, and you hadn’t even put a dent in your list of activity plans for the trip.

You couldn’t exactly put a finger on where all your time was going, but you knew you had to get out of the house soon so you could take some photos and write about your experiences for the project.

In the meantime, you simply decided to push out a few words about your homestay living experience so far, just as Shotaro, of all people, took his daily stroll through the living room, wearing nothing but a body towel that lazily sat around his waist.

It was evident that he’d just gotten out of the shower, too, especially with the way his bare feet were tracking water all over the house.

What made the whole thing even more annoying though is that you could hardly keep your eyes off of his bloody abs—

“Sorry if I’m distracting you, ____-chan,” he said in a muffled voice, standing a few feet away from you now as he made his way into the laundry room before letting the towel around his waist drop to the floor with a heavy thud, “I’ll be outta your hair in a minute…”

You almost gasped out loud at the sight of him in his squeaky clean birthday suit, lifting your laptop high enough to cover your eyes… anddd to cover your clearly flustered face, too.

“Y-yea, no worries,” you replied with a tinge of discomfort in your voice as the tiny grunts left his lips echoed off of the walls, and you assumed it was because he was doing a heavy load of laundry, “take your time…”

SHOTARO WAS SUCH a shameless weirdo, and that’s a heavy statement coming from someone like you…

Admittedly, you’ve met your fair share of odd people in the past, but never someone like this… never a person who was so strict to their own rules, but completely ignorant of other people's boundaries…

And to top it all off, he went as far as to task you with mopping the floor up after his promiscuous little water mess, dubbing it your “reasonable service” to assist him as a guest under his roof…

TIMESTAMP: 4日目

Knock, knock, knock.

With loud pounds, Shotaro’s balled fist clashed from behind your sliding bedroom door.

“____-chan? It’s almost 9:00am, aren’t you awake yet?”

“Uh… y-yea, just give me a sec!” You called out, only having gotten up about five minutes ago to brush your teeth and change out of your pajamas.

“I’m sorry? I can’t hear you very well…”

“I said just give me a sec, sir, I’m almost done!”

“Okay, I’m coming in—”

“Shotaro-san, no!” Your voice blared from where you stood, but it was already too late… Shotaro was slowly sliding the door open, and a pang of embarrassment overcame you for a plethora of reasons…

(1) Your bed was unmade, (2) the floor was decorated with stuff that should’ve been neatly tucked away in either your drawer, closet, or suitcase by now, and (3) you were only wearing pants at this point, having to cover your bare chest with your forearms to hopefully avoid flashing him.

“Did you run out of clean bras to wear or something?” Is the first thing he asks you, and you internally face-palmed yourself.

“W-what? No, I’m just gonna wear this one again, it’s fine—”

“Nonsense,” he interrupted you, “I’ll start a fresh load of laundry for you right away…”

“Shotaro-san, I sincerely appreciate your kindness, but I don’t mind bringing my clothes to the laundromat down the street…” you clarified as he had his back turned to you, and you took this as an opportunity to throw on a baggy T-shirt real quick.

“Look, I’m unemployed for the season, so helping with house chores is the least I can do to stay busy…” he replied, making you roll your eyes in memory of the stunt he pulled yesterday, “oh, and are your tits still hanging out or can I turn around now?”

“Oh- right… yea, you’re all good,” you stammered as he turned around to see your face as he spoke, and you helped him by picking up some of your clothes from off the ground, too.

“But uh… I also wanted to apologize for disrespecting your home recently, sir… I’m not usually this disorganized, though… I guess I’ve just been a little tired…”

“Oh, I can tell…” he replies in a voice that makes you quirk a brow at him.

“Wait… you can?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “your face looks bloated, your eyes are all puffy, and you walk around as if you’re six months pregnant… it’s honestly pretty depressing to witness…”

“Oh…” is all you managed to say.

Usually, you’d be a bit offended if someone said you looked tired, but from Shotaro’s perspective, it seemed like he expressed those thoughts out of concern.

“Y’know, the best part about not having a demanding job or being in college is that you have more time to take care of yourself… both outside and within…”

“Okay?” You replied redundantly, not sure on where he was going with his “Shotaro Wisdom.”

“I just think that you need a traditionally cooked Japanese meal to soothe your jet-lagged bones... it’ll be my treat…”

“Shotaro-san, my diet is just fine… and I get that you’re concerned, but you really don’t have to do all of that for me…”

“Well I insist... You spend all day and night either bound to your bed or roaming my kitchen, anyways, and that’s no way to fully experience the beauty of this city. You’ve gotta be more adventurous, ____-chan… otherwise, what’re you gonna write about in your cultural project, huh? Your adorable homestay host? My cherry blossom garden?”

Slam.

He dropped the dirty clothes basket on the hard wooden floor, and you’re just now realizing that you’d followed him all the way from your bedroom and into the infamous washing room.

Though, Shotaro in all his oddness was right about you… about you not being adventurous enough on this once in a lifetime opportunity to travel… and you know it was only out of shyness that you’d been hermiting for the past few days, but you really did need to get out more if you wanted any chance at writing a good paper—

“Can you pass me the detergent from up there please?”

“Sure,” you chirped, standing up on your tippy toes to reach the top shelf, and Shotaro couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“Thanks, pretty,” he said, and you fight with a bull’s strength to not make a face at the random pet name.

“N-no problem,” you finally replied, resting your hands at your hips as you watched him load the washing machine.

“So, what color are you wearing later?” He asked, and the question reminds you of his offer to take you out to eat.

“Ugh, I’ll let you know when I decide, but right now I’m thinking something either black or grey… what made you ask?”

“Because I wanna match with you,” he responded shamelessly, “That way, if we cross paths with any weirdos while we’re out, they won’t approach us because they’ll assume I’m your boyfriend...”

“Righttt…” you went on, thinking to yourself how weird these people must be if even HE’S calling them weird… “anything else you wanna say before I go and get dressed though?”

“Yes, actually... try to be ready by 14:00 p.m… my favorite chef’s on duty during mid-evening’s and you must try his dumpling soup recipe!…”

A few hours later, you found yourself on a tour of Tokyo beside Shotaro, taking photos of local shrines, indulging in delicious street food, and just simply enjoying the aura of the vibrant city together.

And as on par with his plans, you and Shotaro arrived at the traditional Japanese restaurant just in time to be served by his favorite chef.

Though, it's not like effort went very far once Shotaro got to drinking, which left you thoroughly entertained by his tipsy charisma.

“Heyy, these chopsticks are almost as big as your dildo back home,” Shotaro giggled while eating beside you, cheeks a flushed hue from the warmth radiating throughout his entire body...

I wonder how useful he’d be in this state if any alleged weirdo's approached us later on, you thought to yourself...

“Mhm… looks about seven inches to me,” you responded plainly, right before stuffing your mouth full with another flavorful soup dumpling.

“Wanna see how many I can stuff inside you before it doesn’t fit?” He went on to ask, eyes widening as if he just suggested something totally normal.

“Maybe another time,” you smiled half-heartedly, patting him gently on his head, “when you’re less drunk on… well, whatever the name of that drink you just had was…”

“It’s called shōchū, ____… say it with me!” He chirped with a raised hand to the sky.

“Shōchū,” you repeated again with him, a small smile creeping up your face.

“Yikes, your pronunciation needs a little work…”

“My apologies, Taro… I’ll make sure I work on that for you…”

“Aww… you’re giving me a nickname?” He pouted, leaning his head on you. “I had a dream about you the other night and you called me that same name… it was pretty explicit, though…”

“You can tell me about it later…”

“Okay… what do you think of the food?”

“It’s really tasty, actually. Thanks for taking me out, I really needed this…”

“You’re welcome… thanks for letting me lean on you, too… most people push me away when I do that…”

“And by most people, you mean Euijoo-san, right?”

“Yes… he claims to dislike touch with his words, but he genuinely loves it… I remember one time we went clubbing together, and a really hot girl kept trying to dance on him… he awkwardly pushed her away, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it once we got home…”

“Interesting… do you always overshare like this when you’re drunk?”

“Not like I’d remember anyways,” he shrugged, “can you tell me a secret about something, though? To even out the playing field?”

“Huh…. This isn’t really a secret, but I rarely admit this… I have a tendency to judge people before getting to know them…”

He was quiet at first, stirring the foggy broth in his bowl with a chopstick before asking quietly, “Like you judged me?”

��Yes, like I judged you… you seemed… I don’t know… weird at first? And a bit overbearing, too…”

“All those things are true though,” he giggled.

“Sure, but… never mind, you’re right… I still think you’re weird…”

“Oh yeah? Just wait til I tell you about—”

“Later, Taro… I’d love to hear all about it then…”

TIMESTAMP: 8日目

You and Shotaro developed a quirky friendship with each other, and it was quite refreshing in contrast to your initially rocky start with him.

He was a pervert. You caught onto the way his eyes watched you through the cracks of doors, or fell to glance between your legs every time the chance was made available. Always caught him going through your things under the excuse that “if it’s under my roof, it’s under my control.”

So, you made clear to him a few of your own boundaries, and luckily, he agreed to respect them… for the most part…

The rules followed a simple list…

1. “No more sneaking and spying on me.”

2. “No more going through my things.”

3. “No more walking around naked when I’m around.”

4. “No more weird questions about my sex life.”

In the last four days, he followed you to the bathroom three times, asked about your sex toy twice, and walked around the house half-naked only once… you’d say that was a good sign of improvement, honestly…

You kept yourself busy by annotating every relevant detail and observation from your time in Japan this far, and you were slowly starting to gain reassurance in your abilities to produce an excellent cultural project in time for the deadline.

TIMESTAMP: 12日目

One evening, after yet another day full of laughter and cultural escapades alongside Shotaro, you and him found yourselves lounging on the tatami mats in his living room, enjoying a bowl of miso soup, stewed meat, and some of Shotaro’s homemade onigiri.

Earlier that day, you and him were busy cooking in the kitchen together, where he even shared with you a few of his not-so secret secret Osaki family recipes.

He took the honors of playing photographer for you though as you offered to tuck the seaweed wraps around the triangular mounds of sticky rice.

“Look at you, you’re a natural at this, pretty,” Shotaro complimented you while snapping a few more pictures, and you shook your head at the comical tone of his voice, “now all there’s left to work on is pronouncing ‘onigiri’ properly!”

“Ha ha, you’re so hilarious,” you replied sarcastically, making him chuckle slightly at his own sense of humor, or perhaps, the lack thereof.

There was one moment in particular though that really got your heart racing between him… it was when he scooted himself behind you as you stirred the bubbling pot of miso soup, guiding your wrist with his delicate hand.

“You have to stir carefully from the bottom ____-chan, or else you’ll break up the chunks of tofu we just neatly cut up,” Shotaro whispered from above you, given the height difference, and you’ve never heard his voice sound so calm til now.

He let you lead your own hand for a bit just to check that you had the stirring motion down on your own, and he smiled softly once you did it correctly.

“Like this?” You asked, feeling a lot more nervous than expected while he was so close to you, despite how the other night at the restaurant and bar you found it much less nervous inducing when Shotaro kept leaning his head all over you.

“Mhm… just like that,” he hummed, right before his warmth left you as he walked away to return back to cutting up the stew meat…

Since that moment, the air was filled with an electric tension that neither of you had acknowledged yet as the sun began to set, casting its warm glow through the shoji screens.

In the middle of Shotaro telling you a story about his childhood though, the jingle of keys sounded at the front door as EJ invited himself to join you two once his shift at the local bakery ended.

“I come bearing treats!” He smiled vibrantly, right after bowing his head slightly to show his respects.

“Euijoo-san, how nice of you to join us,” Shotaro said in a corny accent, “how was work?”

“Exhausting… especially because I lost track of time and missed my lunch break…”

“Awww, bummer,” you pouted, “I’ll fix you a plate while you wash up then…”

“Ahhh, thanks a billion, ____-chan… since my own best bro doesn’t seem to care about me anymore,” the young man sulked playfully, and Shotaro widened his eyes in confused offense.

“What d’you mean I don’t care about you? I literally made you onigiri with my bare freaking hands, you ungrateful fart—”

“Acts of service may be YOUR love language, but it isn’t mine,” EJ reminded his friend before dramatically crossing his arms and walking out of the room, “remember that the next time you insult me, Shotaro-san… hmph…”

A few more minutes passed before the third member of your uncanny trio settled down to eat with you guys, provoking you to take a deep breath, summoning courage within yourself.

“Euijoo-san, Shotaro-san… you both have truly made my time in Tokyo one to remember,” you began, watching them shyly nod as your words touched the tenderness of their hearts.

“But,” you went on, voice catching slightly as you tried to keep their attention, “my time with you all is dwindling, and by that, I mean tomorrow is my last day here…”

You watched as the expressions on their faces shifted from joyful camaraderie to sudden surprise, and you couldn’t shake the guilt ones bulding up inside you now.

They had made the Japanese lifestyle seem so inviting for you that just acknowledging that you’d be departing soon hurt…

“No way, it’s been two weeks already?” Euijoo exclaimed with shock, his chopsticks paused mid-air. “Can’t your school let you stay a little longer? I’m sure Shotaro doesn’t mind opening his house to you for an extension…”

“I really wish I could take that offer, Euijoo-san,” you replied, offering a soft smile to hopefully ease his emotions, “I just have to get back for school… plus, changing my flight dates so late wouldn’t be a wise move on my part…”

Shotaro looked down for a moment, a flicker of disappointment crossing his sullen, otter-like features. “It’s been so nice having you around here,” he said quietly, his tone laced with something that you couldn’t quite decipher, but you knew it was different from his usual chipper.

After dinner, the three of you tried to shift the energy by sharing a few more stories and cleaning up the kitchen together, your harmonious laughter echoing beneath the dim house lighting.

Excusing yourself, you eventually retreated to your bedroom after everything was tidied up, but your mind remained a swirling sea of freshly acquired memories of the past few days.

You were gonna take a walk to clear your head and sight-see for what might be your last chance, but your plans were cut short once you realized it was past your curfew, the clock reading 8:00pm on the dot, and you respected Taro too much now to disregard his rules…

Sighing, you closed the door to your room, the world outside faded away, leaving you only to your thoughts and the slightly improved clutter of personal items that you’d worry about packing up tomorrow morning.

You were too emotionally drained to do anything in this moment, other than something to take the edge off… and quickly…

Across the hall, Shotaro sat in the living room, wishing he could shake off the heaviness in his chest. He had grown so fond of you over the last days, your laughter, your genuine curiosity about everything around you and your interest in his culture... The sound of the sliding door to your bedroom clicking shut reached his ears.

“No more sneaking around and spying on me,” your voice faintly resounded from a few days ago in the back of his mind, but a certain impulse washed over him, and he couldn’t help but draw himself to your room, once step at a time.

And it came to no surprise that the clicking sound he heard wasn’t even from the door, but better yet, your suitcase latch after your brief search for the infamous cylinder wrapped in cloth.

You still hadn’t learned how to properly lock the doors behind yourself again, which is why you set that no peeking rule down in the first place… you knew secrets enticed Shotaro, but in this moment, you just focused on taking care of yourself… just like Shotaro said, both outside and within…

Kneeling down, Shotaro edged himself towards the door, where a slender crack allowed him a stingy look inside.

The soft glow of your dresser lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows along your bedsheets and your now half-naked body.

You wore nothing but a baggy T-shirt and panties as you got positioned into your back, legs spread just enough for Shotaro to see everything… your graceful and seren silhouette, and your pulsating core… it all caught his attention, and it all made him all the more aroused…

Luckily for the both of you, EJ had locked himself up in his room to wash off his long day of work, and the sound of the water running faintly in the background acted as a timer for you to finish by.

You began to slid your panties down your hips, each motion fluid and unhurried as Shotaro's poor little heart raced, quickening the pace of his breath.

Slowly caressing over your skin with one hand, you reached for the dildo with the other, and unbeknownst to you, Shotaro was just a few feet away from you, untying his pants as his semi-hard dick sprung out, almost hitting the door.

You just hoped that Shotaro had busied himself somewhere in the house so he wouldn’t find you like this… though, once the head of the toy circled your clit before you slowly lined the head up with your entrance, your mind couldn’t shake the thought of him…

The thought of how he’d feel inside you, or the thought of his hands pinning yours over your head and to the mattress…

Finally inserting the toy all the way, you felt your breath hitch as you started sliding the dildo in and out of your cunt, already coating it in your slimy juices.

The room was silent except for the sound of your own soft gasps bouncing off the walls. Shotaro licked a stripe of spit up his hand before cupping the base of his cock with his palm, already too caught up in the private world of his thoughts to care about how perverted of him this was.

The way he stroked himself mirrored the pace that you set for the dildo as you kept fucking yourself, circling your hips against the mattress as you somehow widened your legs even more.

And by now, Shotaro was in visual heaven, despite the fact that he hated how slow you were going with it… he hated that he couldn’t make himself go any faster until you did.

“Nghh~” a needy mewl ripped from under your breath, and Shotaro felt himself shiver at the way you lifted your hips into the toy now, gripping at your tit with your free hand.

Words can’t begin to describe how badly he wished he could cup your breasts in his hands…

Your hole was impressively taking all of the toy’s girth, but from the looks of it, your pussy was still suffocating around it, being stuffed to the brim as your walls quivered in ecstasy.

So that’s how she likes to be fucked, Shotaro thought to himself, and your lips ironically started to cry out yes as he kept his grip firm around his shaft.

A stream of your own arousal dripped unto the sheets, coating the dildo and your pussy lips in a delicious shine, and Shotaro swore he would’ve sold his soul just to get a taste—

“Shit,” he swore, a free hand flying to cover his mouth as he can barely keep his sounds in now.

You picked up the pace, and he pumped his cock even faster, knowing better than anyone that his rough fingers didn’t feel half as good as your pussy probably does.

He watched the way your tightness gripped at the dildo every time it hit that special spot inside you, and at this point, you were too turned on to pretend like you don’t hear him.

When he had cursed, you noticed his boba eyes peeking at you, and although your first instinct was to shut your legs and scold him, you let the moment take its course…

“Taro,” you said in a seductive voice… one that comes out naturally because of the state you’re in, “you’ve never been very sneaky, y’know that?”

His round eyes nearly popped out of his head at your offer, and he was torn between whether he should pretend like this never happened or just adhere to your lust-laced words.

“Q-quit being shy, Taro,” you whined out again, stammering over your own words as the dildo started to vibrate, “just get in here before I- fuck... ch-change my mind...”

Shotaro could hardly believe his own ears once you announced your scandalous invitation to him, and doesn't think he's ever put his dick away so quickly, either...

Carefully sliding the door open, he slipped through the narrow gap he provided for himself before locking the door back behind him and joining you on the bed.

You were definitely feeling a little less bold now that he was barely a few inches away from you, but the ways his eyes flickered between glancing at your face and then your sloppy cunt motivated you somehow—

“Want some help with that?” He offers quietly, and you respond by slipping the thick toy from your hole, a wet pop filling the room as you lazily held it towards him.

And although his face still appears like a cross between shocked and dumbfounded, his body posture is confident as he takes the toy from your grasp, caressing your exposed thigh just to see you shiver.

He give you one more glance for approval as if your consent wasn't already obvious enough before sliding the tip of the toy between your slick folds, but he's applying a lot more pressure than you did when handling it... not that you had a problem with it anyways...

“You're so sensitive,” he chuckled slightly, watching the way your torso clenched as he pressed the dildo against your entrance, and you're suddenly feeling shy yourself now-- “And pretty,” he continued, complimenting the view of your beautiful bare body before him, the purest look of lust upon both your faces, “so, so pretty...”

A soft moan escaped your mouth as he pushed the toy all the way inside you now, and his method of pumping you felt way better than what you usually did for yourself.

“T-Taro,” you whined, watching as he continued to fuck your cunt open with the dildo, fully focused on pleasing you... he was so fascinated by the way your walls clenched around the silicone, lewd noises filling the room as you grew even hazier in your head.

“What is it, ____?” His voice came out deeply as his gaze barely met yours from behind his neatly cut bangs, his cold hand pressing firmly on the bulge in your stomach, as created by the long toy inside you.

“T-touch yourself,” you whimpered, reaching down to grab his wrist as the pressure he applied became too much for you to speak over, “while you keep touching me...”

That's all it took for him to slowly get to work on shimmying down his pants again, and single-handedly at that. The tip of his cock was sore with a throbbing need as he took his shaft in his free palm, stroking it to the same pace that he set for the dildo inside you.

And his moans were joining yours now, his starved out teeth biting at his lower lip as he continued gliding the toy in and out of your pussy, making your eyebrows furrow at the sight before you.

You imagined that the dildo was his cock as you threw your head back against the pillows, closing your eyes while he did the same by imaging you were responding this way from taking his cock, fucking the pathetic silicone into you just like his hips would.

And as badly as the intrusive thoughts were telling him to toss the toy and just fuck you properly himself, he knew there was a better way to help you get past the sexual frustration of not coming... and he didn’t want to pressure you into doing something you weren’t completely down for…

“Play with your clit for me, baby,” Shotaro slurred while speeding up the movements of his hand pumping his length, and you adhered to his words immediately, sliding your hand down to rub at your sensitive spot just like he told you to.

“That's it baby,” he sighed, chest heaving as he felt himself reaching the point of no return, “you're close, aren't you pretty?”

“S-so close,” you winced desperately, and it only takes a few more thrusts of his hand and circles of your own finger before you were falling over the edge, covering your mouth with the back of your hand to keep your moans in.

And your eyes are pricking with tears given how good the stimulation felt, but you knew Shotaro hadn’t reached his climax yet.

With the little energy you had meddling within your system, you sat up to meet him where he sat, the dildo still jammed inside your pussy as you pulled his face to kiss you, and the contact was hungry… Shotaro’s own mouth gaping open to groan as you kept your grip tight around his neck while looking deeply into his eyes.

He was a panting mess now, and you wanted to help him feel just as good as he had made you feel.

“____, you don’t have to—”

“Shhh,” you interrupted his choked out sentence, kissing him once again as you moved your hand to take the place his around his shaft, “let me return the favor, baby…”

Although a bit delayed, Shotaro eventually nodded in compliance, resting one of his free hands behind him to brace his weight on the bed and his other free hand at you ass where he spanked you slightly.

“B-bounce on it,” his voice came out, and a bit strained in tone as he spanked you a little harder this time, reeling a soft whine out of you, “p-please baby, ride that dildo while you jerk my co— holy fuckk…”

You were still so sensitive in this moment, so the overstimulation was insane once you started grinding against the toy, lifting your hips to ride it as he watched with lust-ridden eyes.

And your delicate hands were doing such a good job of pumping him, too, stroking his length at just the right pace while paying extra attention to the head of his cock, the part that you knew would make him feel the best.

“God, you’re so fucking good at that, pretty,” he praised, and you kissed him instead of saying anything, bouncing so hard now that even the bed is starting to squeak beneath you two.

And the sound made Shotaro smirk… the sound of your juices squelching around the toy… of your heart beating fast behind your chest… the gentle meals escaping you, and the sound of your hand stroking him to heaven—

“Fuck!” He suddenly cried out, as quietly as he could as to not alarm EJ, and that’s when you knew he had finally reached his climax.

Breaking from his lips, you reached behind yourself to grab the scarf you used to wrap up the toy and held it over the top of his cock, just in time for his pearly spurts of his release to fill up the cloth.

Your warm hand slowly pumped the girth of his shaft, continuing to milk him dry as his hand gripped your hips tightly at the feeling, and you’re certain you’d have a bruise there later from his force.

And there is was again… Shotaro’s infamous smile as he sighed beneath his breath, releasing his grip on your hip while looking into your eyes now.

“Sorry I messed up your scarf,” he said plainly, and you can’t help but smile at his remark.

“Eh, it’s alright,” you returned, taking the bundle of fabric from his cock and holding it in your hand, “you’re in charge of laundry duty, anyways…”

Both of your cheeks were as warm as fresh baked milk bread now as you awkwardly lifted your hips off the dildo, the slimy object falling from your hole with a gentle pop as you took the cum rag and wrapped the toy in it, too.

“So…,” he began, voice returning to its usual pitch as you helped shimmy his pants back up, “do you always cum that hard, or was that orgasm special just for me?”

“Shut up,” you scorned playfully, nudging his shoulder slightly to which he chuckled alongside you.

But that’s when you both noticed it… the sound of the water running had stopped, and you’re sure it hasn’t been running for a while.

The two of you exchange worried looks as your ears keen in on the sounds behind the door, if any at all…

“Should I just…?” Shotaro started to ask while getting up from the bed, but you placed a hand at his thigh, keeping him in place.

Step, step, step.

Euijoo’s house slippers slid across the floor as he made his way to your bedroom door, the silhouette of his frame being clear as day behind the slightly opaque door, and you wonder just how much he can see from his point of view.

“Hey, is Shotaro-san in there with you?” He asked, visibly tucking his hands in his pajama pants pockets, “I heard the bed creaking, and he has a strict ‘NO-SEX IN THE HOUSE’ policy…”

“Yes, he’s in here—”

“We weren’t having sex.”

You and Shotaro’s of your voices came out at the same time, and by this point, EJ is really confused, even though both of your sentences were 100% the honest truth.

“Right,” is all the poor boy says before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction, “just make sure you end your little sleepover in time for me to get my work clothes washed by tomorrow morning…”

⋆♱✮ Thank you to everyone reading this fic of mine, which actually concludes DAY 3 of my Kinktober Event !! Also, if you're interested in reading more works like this, feel free to check out my main enhypen masterlist or my kinktober masterlist by clicking one of these links !!

⋆♱✮ PERMANANT TAGLIST:

@squoxle, @nishiimuranights, @ashgonedash

@yourmomscuntis2tighy, @wonbinisbabygurl

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⋆♱✮ KINKTOBER TAGLIST:

@pasteltheghost16 @fawnpeaks @melonvrs

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@crownj1min @jay-0n3s @gacktsa @leeknowinggg

[luminalunii97]

saying F U to the regime again and again: a quick update on women vs IR regime

Famous Iranian actresses have been appearing in public without a mandatory hijab. This has been happening since the beginning of the protests. Last month, Kiumars Pourahmad, a well known Iranian screenwriter and director, committed suicide. He had a history of criticizing the regime's political decisions. At his funeral, some of the famous actresses attended without mandatory hijab.

You can see Fateme Motamedarya, Katayoun Riyahi, and Golab Adineh in these pictures from the funeral. Ms. Riyahi was one of the first celebrities who took her hijab off at the start of the Jina (Mahsa) Amini protest and for that she's been the target of IRGC harassment and has been to court.

Last week, in the ceremony of screening of the final episode of Lion's Skin (a persian crime show), actress Pantea Bahram participated without hijab. The manager of Tehran’s Lotus Cinema, where the ceremony was held, was fired for letting her attend without hijab.

Other than prosecution, the regime has blocked these celebrities' bank accounts. Basij and IRGC members have also attacked and harassed these women online and in real life.

Students on university campuses take off their hijabs. There's an installed version of morality police in universities that monitor students' styles. Female students must wear "appropriate" hijab and male students must wear "manly" clothes (one of my guy friends once was asked to go back home and change his shoes because they were red casual loafers. Apparently that's gay!). When you enroll in Iranian universities, the first thing you do is to go to the security office and sign an agreement that says you promise to follow the Islamic dress code. There are posters all over the campus that says things like "hijab is security" "respect the islamic hijab" and "not wearing appropriate hijab (tight short clothes, too much hair, makeup, etc) would result in legal action". So not wearing hijab on campus, where a lot of security cameras are installed and it's easy to identify you, is a big deal.

The regime's response to students taking off their hijabs is sending threatening messages to students' phones and increasing the security people. At the entrance of Universities, these security forces check people's clothes and if it's not proper they won't let you in. Some of the students wear the hijab at the entrance and take it off after they're in. They have warned our professors to not let non hijabi students sit in classes too.

One of my favorite trends in Iran now is when guys wear our hijab. These pictures are from universities. Guys wearing hijab make the security mad. This is a great act of solidarity with women against the obligatory hijab.

Some men have been doing either this or wearing shorts in public. The former is to ridicule the obligatory dress code and the latter is because wearing shorts in public is forbidden for guys too.

And women not wearing hijab in general. Though hijab is not our only issue, we want a whole new political system, one that is not theocratic or terroristic, hijab is something the regime won't back down from because it's one of their strongest oppressing tools. If they let us win the fight against obligatory hijab, I quote from a regime head, "people keep demanding more changes"!

So to put people against people to enforce the hijab law again, the regime has closed down many businesses (hotels, cafes, malls, bookstores, etc) for welcoming non hijabi female costumers. They have also warned taxi and bus drivers to not let non hijabi women in their vehicles.

Although not everyone is disobeying the hijab law (some believe in hijab, some don't want to pay the price), the number of women who take the risk and don't wear hijab in Tehran and many other cities is high enough that you feel encouraged to keep doing it.

[weskie]

Love in The Stars (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

s.t.a.r.s wesker, fluff, wesker being treated softly (like he deserves!!!), wesker treating you softly (like you deserve!!!) | Fic Directory

Sometimes you catch him. 

When he thinks no one's watching, that the attention is elsewhere, Wesker lets his mask slip. That cool, indifferent demeanor fades. His stiff upper lip settles and his eyes soften, often gazing down to the ground. Something within him shifts as if overtaken by a profound sadness. 

It makes you understand why he wears those sunglasses all the time. You just happened to be at the right angle to see it anyway. 

You don't know how to bring it up. How do you tell your Captain such things? That you've caught his sorrow on full display would be a confession that you stare, which would be more than you want to let on. Of course, such musings are short-lived once his eyes suddenly flicker up to meet yours. They widen slightly, as if taken off guard, and then that mask of his returns in a flash. 

Cool, calculating indifference. 

From then on, you find yourself with a drive to interact with him more– anything at all, really, to cheer him up. You bring him his paperwork, his coffee, each one delivered with a warm smile and kind eyes. You stay late, always making small talk with him as you both lock up and head to your respective homes.  It’s awkward at first.

And then it’s not.  

It comes as a shock the first time you see a flicker of happiness in that icy gaze of his. A glimmer that grows, a spark that catches, and a warmth that spreads to both your cheeks and his– becoming more apparent with every interaction. 

Your run ins become less and less like those of a Captain and his subordinate, and more like friends on the verge of something forbidden and beautiful. 

One night, after the rest of the team left from their mandatory overtime, you nudge his office door open, coffee in hand, and find him with his face cushioned on his arms. His glasses lay aloft in his limp grip as if he'd only meant to rest his head momentarily before crashing altogether.  You smile sweetly at the sight.  Though he’s clearly exhausted, he still looks peaceful in his own way.

A glance around the room turns up no sight of anything to drape over his shoulders, but an idea hits you.  You scurry back to your desk to retrieve your jacket.  It’s nothing too thick– just a light knitted fabric.  Just enough to keep him cozy. At least you hope so, anyway.

You hold your breath as you lay it over his back.

He neither shifts nor stirs, so you simply turn off his clunky desktop monitor and office lights.  You leave his door cracked slightly so he’d have at least some light when he wakes.  

You head home that night with a soft smile on your face, giddiness bubbling in your chest at the image of him snoozing all but burned into your mind’s eye.

You’d never seen him look so serene before, and it’s hard to stop the thoughts of him like that.  What you wouldn’t give to be met with such a sight as you lay your head upon your own pillow…  To hear Wesker’s gentle breaths as he slumbers next to you.

You’ve never been a morning person, but you wager you might be if you could wake up to the sight of him.

Alas, you don’t. And that’s why it’s such a chore to drag yourself through your morning routines and back to work the next day.  Things are mundane as ever, though you do lock eyes with your Captain on more than a few occasions.  His smile is soft and warm, a slight quirk of his lips just subtle enough to avoid drawing attention.  In what world does Captain Wesker smile like that, you imagine would be the question that makes the rest of the team suspicious.  All the same, you know he knows exactly who covered him up the night prior. 

Not that it was difficult to figure out.  Even if he didn’t recognize your go-to zip-up, he still had access to the security cameras.  Puzzling, though, is that he doesn’t give it back to you as soon as he sees you, nor does he do so later in the day.  Even as the team leaves, all of them trying so terribly hard to pressure you and Wesker to join them for lunch, he makes no mention of the garment.  

You decide to be a little bit bold and snoop.  There would be no consequences to being caught, and you’re positive you could spin it as trying to see if he was busy before you came in to talk, so you huddle against the wall and lean over to peek through the blinds to his office window.

He’s invested in something on his screen, and you can faintly hear the sporadic clicking of his mouse as he works. Your cheeks go up in flames and a beaming grin makes its way onto your face when you catch the sight of his left hand.  Atop his desk rests your jacket, neatly folded, and on it rests his hand.  You can clearly see Wesker toying with it between his thumb and forefinger, almost as if it were meant to soothe him.  

Perhaps he was waiting for you to retrieve it yourself.  Maybe he felt no obligation at all to give it back.  Either way, it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

As you all but tip-toe back to your desk, you decide it’s his for as long as he wants it.  

It goes unmentioned even as the two of you leave later that night.

Long after you’ve settled into bed, you find yourself wondering what his reaction must have been when he awoke.  You drift off imagining all the different scenarios.

You’ll never know that he pulled the fabric close to his face and nuzzled it, inhaled your scent and committed it to memory as best as humanly possible.  Somehow, even with an aching neck from the odd position he’d drifted off in, he found that morning to have been one of the best he’s had in… a long time.

He plans another Friday for overtime.  He has to know if you’ll do it again.  

And you do.  He leaves your jacket strategically placed on the back of his swivel chair and feigns sleeping.  In you walk, fresh coffee in hand by the scent of it, and he hears you huff a small laugh.  God, he loves the way you think of him.  All your little ways of taking care of him…

The mug settles on his desk with a soft thud.

You admire him for a moment before grabbing your jacket from the back of his chair and draping it over his shoulders.  A thought runs across your mind that’s too good to ignore, and all too dangerous.  Then again, you’ve come to know your big bad Captain for the sweet man he truly is. There is infinite kindness under his stoicism. 

You lean down and press a kiss to his temple, lingering perhaps a second or two longer than you should’ve.  His skin is warm beneath your lips, and the faded aroma of his cologne blends sweetly with his natural scent.  

That warm fuzzy feeling blooms in your chest, only it turns to abject horror when you pull back and find him grinning and peering up at you.  Your eyes go wide and you freeze.

Oh no…

“You sure know how to tuck me in,” he says nonchalantly.

You’re mortified.  Neither of you have ever pushed this boundary before– never discussed it, either.

You watch Wesker raise his head from his arms and reach for the coffee you brought him, sipping at it with that same grin still etched on his face.  An apology stutters off your tongue in disarray as he stands from his seat to loom over you.  With a curled finger, he tilts your face up to look at him.

You can see in his eyes that he’s only half as confident as he seems.  Part of you is relieved.

“Thank you,” he says, thumb brushing over your lower lip, “for being so sweet to me.”  Your heart hammers a million beats in the short time it takes him to lean down and press his lips to yours.  Your breath catches, your head swims– you all but totally malfunction before some degree of sense hits your mind and you lean into it.  He kisses you slow, thumbing at your cheeks as if to soothe all that anxiety he’d struck into you just mere moments before.

You can’t describe it, but there’s a hint of desperation in the way he moves.  Lips pressing hard, hands pulling just a little more than necessary to keep you right where he wants you.

Like he’s afraid letting go will dispel the illusion.

How terribly understandable.  In a way, you yourself fear that you’ll open your eyes and it will all be a dream.  Perhaps, worse yet, you’ll still be standing there, pit forming in your gut, as your Captain lectures you on the importance of boundaries and personal space.  

Thankfully it is your dreams that come true, not your fears.

Even after your lips part, he doesn’t release you.  His hands remain at your cheeks and he presses his forehead to yours, sighing through his nose as a smile wider than any you’d seen before graces his face.

It’s only understandable that you’d want to kiss him again, right?

And again.

And again.

And again…

He’s got you backed against the edge of his desk by the time you both stop to breathe properly. Wesker makes a move you don’t anticipate.  His arms wrap around you, drawing you into a tight hug.  He buries his face against the crook of your neck.

You swear on everything you hear him murmur a thank you.  You may not understand why, but it doesn’t matter right now.

Not when those pretty blue eyes sparkle at you as if you were brighter than all the stars in the sky.

[katsukiizmoon]

Desc: Talkin’ bout Katsuki while you’re pregnant & when you have a daughter

No cause now all I can think about is katsuki with a daughter :( everyone Shutup I’m usually more immune to baby fever but oh god…. >:( katsuki needs to give me a baby girl

I can go into details and I will

Buys a giant wardrobe for her before she’s even born. Has custom made dynamight baby clothes made just for her.

Reads every parenting book known to man and has a binder of development notes!! This man has written down everything from how to cure baby gas to the best learning tools and methods for little ones

Makes freezer prep meals for when you’re post-partum and struggling ! Soup cubes, one pan sheet meals, instant pot dinners, the works. He makes frozen mandu (Korean dumplings) for an easy snack.

SLATHERS you in Shea butter and bio oil throughout your pregnancy, giving you rubs up and down all the time

Begins impulse buying childrens books and toys any time he steps into a store

Your home now has an entire room dedicated to the items he had either BUILT or BOUGHT for your child. Shelves are secured to the wall, filled with every book and pack of flash cards he’s purchased

Lays her down on his chest for quick naps with dragon tales on, humming to soothe her to avoid hics and sniffs from his beloved baby

Calls her “angel” for the longest time but here’s a list of other nicknames he uses: “squirt” , “shithead” , “princess” , “little spark”

Has the baby’s footprints stamped on thick cardstock for every two months she grows, until she hits a year. At a year he begins doing it every 6 months.

Starts teaching her to bake early on, all their favorite treats. They sit afterwards and eat to their hearts content until she inevitably knocks out on his chest watching Disney movies

Let’s her paint his nails as soon as she’s old enough. When she hits an age where it’s appropriate, they begin getting matching pedicures with you every month

Also post partum he spends time fixing you warm baths to soak in and love yourself in, while he holds the little one and makes dinner

Also also when you’re pregnant he literally has a brand new toilet installed to help you so you won’t need a peri bottle as much when you go to the bathroom :(((

Bathroom? Stocked with everything you can imagine. Tiny fridge for your padsicles? Check. Adult diapers? Check. Stool softener? Check. Baby wipes? Check! Anything you need, is stocked to the brim

Makes it mandatory that for the first 7 days of your little one’s life, only you and him will be around the baby. No visitors pressuring you, none of that. He plans the entire week in advance and tries to account for how tired you’ll be. The first thing he tells you to do when you get home is to get some sleep, and you do.

Calls his mom for help when you’re both a little too stressed and has her watch the baby in the play room so the two of you can have an hour nap

Takes you out to different attractions every week and/or has a “mommy day” planned each week to help lessen the chance of post partum depression

I just truly think he’d worship the ground yoj walked on and pave the way for her. He’d tell her how much he loves her every day. I bet he even puts a mild lavender lotion on her before she sleeps to help her rest and relax.

When she’s a newborn and going through the phase of refusing sleep, he gets you in bed and rocks her in the rocking chair until she’s asleep. He also demands the baby SHARE a room with you until she gets to at least 7-8 months. Baby cameras everywhere. Everything is baby proof. If you think it isn’t, it is.

When I die, The first thing I’m doing is having katsuki knock me up so we can live a happy life with a little one.

[goofyspokemonworldbuildingcorner]

It is mandatory in Blueberry Academy for all new students to take a wilderness survival class before entering the terrarium. Even though the terrarium is monitored constantly by security cameras, as well as the school rangers on the ground,and that the terrarium contains shelter for students, the school’s legal team still advised administration to put one more safeguard in place in case of serious injuries.

[seat-safety-switch]

Everyone knows me at the dump. I don’t mean this in a bragging sort of way. In fact, I hate this fact. The reason why everyone knows me at the dump is that Mr. Jones, the dump operator, has posted the CCTV footage and blurry cell-phone camera pictures of my face on the break room wall. Even the youngest probie at the dump will look at me, every morning, while they wait for the coffee machine to dispense their mandatory cup of black joy.

You can probably guess why this has happened to me. I love junk, and the dump has a lot of that junk. To me, it is offensive that the dump hoards that junk. They keep it from me, using excuses like “sanitation” and “safety,” but safety is my middle name. If they would just give me a chance, then I would be the best they’ve ever seen. I’d even remove and sort the little lithium-ion vape batteries that haven’t exploded yet, out of gratitude.

Of course, we both know why I’m digging through trash at the dump. I don’t want old Betamax VCRs, or mouldy cardboard boxes heralding products from a bygone era. Well, I do, but I don’t want them more than I want a two-stroke dirt bike, and I’ve seen tons of those over the years get callously tossed into the debris pile by the great unwashed. They’re always getting thrown out for little reasons, like “carb jet plugged,” or “caught on fire,” or “couldn’t get anyone to buy it on Craigslist for septuple the market value so I threw it away out of spite.” I could save these bikes, and to be not allowed to save them is literal torture.

Just like anyone else would in my shoes, I started wearing elaborate disguises to the dump. Sometimes I could loot one, and throw it into the back of my car, and be gone before the dump operators (there weren’t even security guards yet, back then) could catch up to me. I had enough disguises – and enough cars – that I could pull this off for a little while. Then, used cars got really expensive, and the folks in my neighbourhood started using security fasteners to hold on their license plates. I started to escape by tighter and tighter scrapes, until one fateful day.

That bastard Jones figured me out. He came from Chicago, of all places, a city which I’m pretty sure doesn’t even have a dump. And he knew my kind. He set a trap: an agonizingly pristine, 1989 Yamaha XT225. Sure, it was a four-stroke, but it was still love at first sight. It was planted right on top of one of the big piles of disposable diapers, visible even from the highway. Even knowing it was a trap, I made plans for months to grab it.

The joke’s on him, though. I’ve started my own private dump, and I’ve paid the government to start outsourcing dump operations to me. We’re an extremely efficient operation, much more affordable for the taxpayer than the wasteful public dump. How so, you ask? Well, we are much more selective with what waste we accept, and we wrote one helluva contract, which had a bunch of big words that confused the gin-addled politicos that signed it out of desperation to meet their “lower taxes” pledge.

Here’s how it works. We charge the city hundreds of thousands of dollars a month, and we get first pick of any internal combustion engines that are in the back of the garbage trucks. Everything else goes down the road to the regular dump. We’re making a fortune. If we keep putting out numbers like this, I’m sure there will soon be layoffs over at Jones’ shithole. Hell, maybe I’ll even hire him to manage security around these parts. Can’t have anyone walking off with my good trash.

[izgnanik-a]

MerMay GhostSoap 1

// MDNI // read at your own risk //

The camera flashed in and out of focus; a ship tossing and turning over dangerous waters, fishermen reeling heavy nets full of fish and creatures alike — a whole boil of eels, seaweed, and crab. Scraped from the deepest depths of the shallow water below, they prevailed through the torrents of wind and rain.

The camera fell out of focus with their final lucky pull. And within the confines of their net, held prisoner to human hands — lied a beast no single fisherman would begin to describe that day.

x

John MacTavish was in need of a job, and his resume was lumped full of references; he’d been in the military for the beginning of his legal life. Left before boarding military school, and became a farmhand. From then he became a fisherman, then left the seas to be stranded back on land as a delivery driver soon after.

And now?

“It says here you were in the military?” The interviewer before him was no means young nor spry. He was an older American fellow with a rough personality, one who didn’t crack a smile to a single one of Johnny’s jokes. So he stopped making them.

With his hands tucked between his thighs, he nodded. “Yes sir. I did my obligatory six month boot camp training.”

“Was there a reason you didn’t further pursue that field?”

“Wasn’t cut out for me. Wasn’t,” Johnny couldn’t search for the correct word but all he could think of was ‘volatile’ or ‘stimulating’ enough. “-The right fit.” He said in the end.

The man, who identified himself as Hershel Shepherd at the beginning of the bland interview, flipped through the collected pages of John MacTavish’s life. It seemed, for someone hardly climbing his late 20’s, that there was a lot to flip through.

To be fair, Johnny had been through hell and back with the choices he’d made to be in this exact spot. But that was for God to decide whether it was a good outcome in the end.

Shepherd gave a deep sigh. “This is a demanding job. Long hours of surveillance, as well as high security. I understand you’ve stepped out from being a soldier, but are you willing to take back the responsibility of one?”

When Johnny saw the ad for this job, the original description was vague to say the least. What he had expected of the job was nothing but a security outpost, with no location stated, Johnny was left to imagine a bank, or a hotel security post.

Johnny nodded. “I hope that I can be of service to you. I’m willing to do whatever it is that you need. I’m a quick learner.”

Shepherd gave Johnny a once over before shutting his file. “How quick can you be on the job?”

“As soon as you’d like me.”

“How about tonight?”

Johnny pursed his lips together, somewhat relieved to have a job but unwilling to say that ‘tonight wasn’t going to work because my roommate is making pasta’. “I can do tonight.”

“Uniform is black slacks and a collared shirt. We’ll see about your hair, but usual uniform is a shorter shave.” Shepherd stated. “The shift is 21:00 to 5:00.”

Johnny’s hair hadn’t grown to an unreasonable length, just longer around the neck and ears. He’d been in need of a trim, he thought honestly, but also enjoyed the hair on his head. “I’ll have it situated before tonight, sir.”

Shepherd nodded once before standing, palms pressed into the desk as he stood with a slight grimace. His leg aching. A storm was coming. He could feel it in his joints.

“Come in earlier than 21:00 so we can have you situated and tagged with an ID card.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll be seeing you.” Shepherd held his hand out, the only form of appreciation given the entire interview.

“Thank you sir. I’ll do my absolute best.”

He gave a wry look, a suspicious gaze of distrust. As if he’d been crossed before with those exact words. “We’ll see.”

x

“So, tell me again, why you’re doing this?” Johnny’s roommate, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watched him standing shirtless in front of the mirror, electric clippers in hand.

“The job has a mandatory requirement.” Johnny said, making a pass through his hair, disposing of the hair in the razor, and starting over again.

“Usually jobs require a close shave, not short hair. And your hair was fine before.”

“You should’ve seen the guy who was interviewing me, didn’t even crack, a smile or a single wink. American too.”

“Oh no, no, no, no.” Said his roommate with unexpected discouragement. “The last American to come through here was an absolute dickhead.”

“You can’t base your experience of one person off of a whole group of people. That’s prejudice.” Johnny mocked.

“No. It’s called behavioral learning; you said the guy didn’t even crack a joke or a smile at your jokes, granted your jokes are shit, but someone would at least make a comment about it.“

Johnny wasn’t even going to begin to dissect that comment. Everyone loves his jokes, no matter how horribly rancid they were. “The point is — that I have a job, and you don’t have to be digging into your savings in order to help out the both of us anymore.”

“It’s not like I’m your friend or anything. It kind of comes with the package deal.”

“Which I am eternally grateful for. Speaking of our friendship, I do have some unfortunate news.” Johnny grimaced through the mirror towards his roommate.

“Oh God. What did you do this time?”

“Nothing horrible. I just.. I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight because I actually picked up a shift?”

“You’re starting work tonight?”

“He offered.”

“And you agreed?”

“He asked me when I could start working, and I said that I could start working as soon as possible, and that just so happened to be tonight. So I will be missing out on pasta tonight.” By the time Johnny had finished speaking, his shoulders were up near his ears. “But I’d be more than willing to take a plate to go?“

“So you thought that you could come in here, get dressed and shave your head awfully, can I just say, and then take a plate of my pasta to go to a job that you had an interview today, and start today?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

His roommate stepped out of the doorway and out of sight into the living room, where Johnny was able to track them based on movement of the creaking floorboards. He smiled himself in the bathroom when he could hear the floorboard creek in the kitchen.

“So is that a yes?” Johnny asked, a smirk plastered on his face.

x

Dressed in uniform, and newly shaved with a indistinguishable mohawk, that was scrutinized by his roommate the moment he had showered, Johnny was standing in front of the building, where he was set to work for the unforeseeable future. A container of pasta for his late dinner in hand.

He had been greeted at the end of the road, before the building, by a pair of unfriendly faces that matched those of security guards. They both were equipped with concealed weapons, and walkie-talkies. they had called someone within the main building, confiscating Johnny’s drivers license until he was waved through.

From there, he was escorted into the building by a another security guard with an authorized ID card. The walls and the floors reflected similar brightnesses of the whitewashed marble, both polished and sanitized, while the overhead lights were obnoxious LEDs. there was not a single smell perforating through the hallways, everything felt sterilized and medical.

Johnny felt out of place. He felt the need to run, but he didn’t know what from, not yet. He kept thinking to himself, among the silence and emptiness of each hallway as he navigated behind the security guard, that he should’ve turned away the moment he saw the gates before the building.

He should’ve turned away when he saw the outline of a concealed weapon within the security guard’s belt at the gates. Though he wasn’t a stranger to gun ownership, being a soldier at the beginning of his legal life, it was an uncanny experience to be surrounded by so many armed civilians. And that said a lot as a Scottish Catholic, growing up in the Scottish Highlands, who migrated to the UK.

Johnny was escorted to room that looked more like a medical setting, then an inviting environment where he was supposed to stand guard. The man who’d been guiding him throughout the building turned to him suddenly, giving him a look over, and then spoke.

“This is the temporary personal lounge. This is where you will leave your personal belongings, as well as your phone inside of the lockers, preferably turned off until you leave location. You are responsible for your belongings, as well as the cleanliness of your locker. And if anything is misplaced or left out, we are not liable to replace anything.”

What Johnny had neglected to notice was a row of tall lockers lined against the wall alongside the doorway. Some already had their own combination locks on them, and others were left wide open and empty. Failing to realize the guard before him was actually telling him to empty out his pockets and put everything in a locker led to an awkward stare off before the light clicked on in Johnny’s head.

“All right.” Johnny began patting down his own pockets, emptying them out, as well as setting his container of pasta on the top shelf in the locker before reaching for his phone. He stared at the time before holding the power button, sliding the phone off, and turned back to the guard.

“There’s no refrigeration unit within the building yet, so you can either leave your food in your locker or you can leave it in one of the cabinets.“

Something told Johnny that if he left his container in the cabinet, that it would not be there when he came back. For a place that held no accountability for missing or stolen things, he had a feeling that this would be a whirlwind of a lawsuit. he took his chances and left his container in the locker.

“All right, I believe that’s it.” Johnny clasped his hands together. “I was also told to come in earlier so that I could be able to get my ID? “

The guard gave him a look, as if to say he had no place to say anything, and started for the door. “Follow me.“

Johnny moved in step behind him again. ”This is a big place.” Though he didn’t feel it was necessary to have a conversation, he felt like it would be more inviting if he could connect with at least one person on the job. “I think the only person I’ve seen in these hallways is you,” he joked.

The guard did not laugh. Nor did he entertain Johnny’s boredom.

“I would understand why you need so much security for such a big place.” Johnny remarked.

The guard turned to him, stopping in the hall. “You have no idea what you’re guarding here, do you?”

It should’ve scared him how much information he didn’t know about this place, or about the job, and how desperate Shepherd seem to want to give him the job only that night. But he’d seen horrors on farmland, even while he was at boot camp. This don’t scare him, not one bit.

So he just shook his head at the man before him, and said, “Not a clue.”

That seemed to make him coy. With that motivation, he continue down the hallway with Johnny in tow. As they turned the final corner, up ahead, there stood another guard beside a set of steel double doors, an electronic keycard scanner blinked red parallel to them.

“Who is this?” Asked the guard.

“New overnighter.”

“Johnny MacTavish.” He held out his hand to introduce himself.

They didn’t shake his hand. “Does he have a keycard?”

Revealed from his inner pocket, the guard who had been leading him through the building, held out a day pass. “For now.”

The way they looked at each other when speaking of Johnny made him feel disconnected. He felt singled out, and targeted, and this was his first shift.

The guard stepped aside, revealing a secondary keycard sensor and scanned their own. Their box turned green, while the other scanned Johnny’s temporary pass. The light turned green, and the steel doors gave a wail before an alarm blared from overhead. There was a red circulating siren light within the room they were entering, giving warning that something was wrong.

But the guard waltzed in, and Johnny followed.

The room was the same as the rest that he’d seen; white, bright, and bland. As he entered, to the right the wall had been swapped for a dark glass. It felt cold under Johnny’s palm as he dragged it along.

“This is where you’ll be staying all night. There’s a unit for you to stay and surveillance the room, as well as a security room with an emergency lock down sequence.” Said the guard ahead of him. “There is a list for you to read and study. You follow the rules on it, you get to go home every morning happy. You don’t,” he turned to Johnny, Johnny’s hand straying from the glass, “you can forget this place ever existed.”

Johnny watched him turned and looked to the darkened glass. Within his own reflection, he could see shapes through it. Not common shapes, odd curves and hills. “Is there a room on the other side of this glass?” Johnny asked.

The guard turned to Johnny from a desk, a few feet from the glass wall. Things had been pulled close to it to make it like-able; an orange electrical cable leading up to it, a desk lamp plugged into it, a single serving coffee maker, and nothing else. Two more sockets were left empty.

The pungent smell of something rotten lingered in the air, as well as the sea, where there hadn’t been a single smell outside of cleanliness moments before.

A snotty sneer appeared on the man’s face before him. “Just fyi, you’re not going to make it long here. So, just keep to yourself and remember the way you came so you can leave.”

Johnny furrowed his brow in disgust. Not going to make it long here? Now who the fuck says that to the new guy?

Johnny was left alone soon after. Nothing but an empty wing to survey, two rooms, and no phone. He stared at the glass wall, a sharp corner opened to a long window and then solid wall. It must’ve been massive within. Cupping his hands over his eyes and peering into the glass, he stared into the dark tint.

Johnny felt the coolness of the glass underneath his hands, it was almost shockingly cold. He couldn’t huff a single breath before it would fog up. Glancing to the desk, he turned on the lamp and turned its head towards the glass to shine it over.

What he hadn’t realized is that flecks of debris floated on the other side of the glass. He wiped his thumb along to clear it only to find it still there, the heat of his hands remained. He furrowed his brow in confusion as he brought the lamp closer.

Staring into the dark tint of the glass, smelling the rotten seaside water, he pressed his hand to the glass again to peer through. His thoughts coming in clearly.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He stepped back to gaze up at the tall wall of glass. “It’s a fucking fish tank.”

x

Next chapter

fic masterlist

[ricky-tiki-tah]

Ego Headcanons: The Ipliers

Pt. 2

Iplier Manor is home to most of Mark Fischbach’s egos, the Ipliers.

Part 1

Google Blue(he/him): the head of the android family. Is the one that goes to meetings. Often helps Dark keep the schedule updated and followed.

Google Green-GG(he/him): generally easygoing and helpful. If you need a question answered, he’s the one to go to.

Google Red(he/him): very easily annoyed and tends to avoid Bing for that reason. Is not the one you want to ask for help with anything.

Google Yellow-Oliver(he/him): the most human of the Googles. He suspects it’s because he has a name and he’s tried giving his siblings names but they never stick. Spends most of his time with Bing or Eric (he enjoys the quiet company of the younger ego).

Bing(he/him): your basic skater bro. Enjoys annoying Blue. Is always very happy when Oliver agrees to watch him do tricks on his skateboard.

—The androids are their own family.

Reporter Jim-RJ(he/him): always has a microphone.

Cameraman Jim-CJ(he/him): always has a camera.

Anchorman Jim-AJ(he/him): knows thingsTM.

Weatherman Jim-DubJ(he/him): always has an accurate weather forecast.

—The Jims are clones. No one (besides Dark) knows where they came from but they call each other brothers. If more Jims appear, they will be immediately added to the family. They have some sort of hive mind/telepathy and often talk to each other nonverbally. Dark is strangely protective of them. Apart from the telepathy, they have no known powers.

Sliver Shepherd(he/him): doesn’t live in the Manor. Has a girlfriend. Only visits for mandatory meeting and Christmas. Has beef with his alter ego (nobody knows why, or how). - Powers: super strength/speed.

Dadiplier-Stan(he/him): BiAce but hasn’t really acknowledged it yet. Shares an apartment with Friendly J. Rarely visits, only for mandatory meetings. Generally friendly and easygoing guy. Typical suburban dad. Runs a water business (and is a drug dealer on the side) with Jimmy. Is a grade A criminal but you’d never suspect it. - Power: hydrokinesis.

Ed Edgar(he/him): doesn’t live in the manor. Runs a small illegal adoption agency for kids that have suffered abuse. Is really, really bad at advertising. - Power: unknown.

Captain Magnum(he/him): pirate dad. Doesn’t live at the manor. Very tallTM. - Powers: unknown.

Illinois Smith(he/him): pan adventurer dude. Lives in a separate cabin in the Iplier woods with Camper. The two keep an eye on Heehoo. - Powers: absurdly good luck

Camper Mark-Cam(he/him): lives with Illinois. Has a tent permanently set up beside the cabin for Heehoo when it rains. - Powers: unknown.

Heehoo(???): feral. Loves takis. Lives in the woods surrounding Iplier Manor. Really only interacts with Camper and Illinois. - Powers: unknown.

MerMark(he/him): merman with a rainbow tail. He has an aquarium like room in the manor that connects to the swimming pool and a lake in the woods by the cabin. He’ll see Heehoo every once in a while. - Powers: can talk to any aquatic creature.

King of FNAF-Mike(he/him): isnt actually a security guards for Iplier Manor. (He works at this pizza joint with haunted animatronics). Was later promoted to ceo. Hates his job (but can’t quit because FazEnt somehow basically owns him?? He doesn’t know when that happened either). Is terrified of animatronics and mannequins. Hangs around Dave mostly (he’s the only one awake when he gets off work and Dave is a pretty chill guy. He helps Mike calm down enough to sleep. Yes, Yan thinks they’re dating. Are they? They don’t even know themselves.) - Powers: heightened endurance.

Dave Torres(he/him): has no idea how he got to the manor and at this point is too scared to ask. Keeps to himself mostly but enjoys hanging out with Mike. Doesn’t need much sleep to function, but seems to always have a cup of coffee anyway. - Powers: dream walking.

Annus Memento(he/they/any): agender aroace god of time. Spends most of his time with Unus(possibly in a QPR). Absolutely hates being called “Old Man Time” despite that being his title. Followed constantly by the sound of a ticking clock (Elliot and Unus find it comforting). Is a wacky weirdo but can be serious. - Powers: time(controls the amount of time people have in their life, but can also warp time like if he wanted to run away from Dark after pranking him).

Eboy Mark-Elliot(he/him): gay e-boy and in a relationship with Gothan. One of the physically younger egos (around 20). Sees Annus as a father figure (Annus doesn’t understand how but accepts it as inevitable). Will occasionally call the other young egos his younger siblings. - Powers: unknown.

Convict-Vic(they/he): Largely nonverbal. Severely traumatized. Seems to be the embodiment of a pathetic sad puppy. Surprisingly doesn’t hate water (it’s clear and they can see through it well enough), but will not go in the pool/lake. No one actually knows what crime he committed and they’ve never said. Hangs around Engie the most, often just following him around like an extra shadow (he enjoys their warm hugs and the fact that Engie doesn’t expect them to talk). Will also sometimes hang around Annus, Dark, or Dave as well, seeing as they’re fairly calm egos and they let him just exist nearby and watch them do whatever they might be doing at the moment. Carries around a notebook for if they really need to say something. - Powers: unknown.

The Ipliers are always eager and open to answer questions :)

[zebracakesarecopingmechanisms]

Assigning each ASOUE book a TMA entity (+why)

*Also taking the Netflix show’s portrayal/atmosphere into account.

The Bad Beginning: Web 🕸️

The Baudelaires are beginning to realize that things have been going on behind the scenes that they can’t understand; they are almost completely trapped in Olaf’s scheme til Klaus finds a loophole.

The Reptile Room: Hunt 🦷

The Incredibly Deadly Viper is initially percieved as a threat, if short-lived, and the Baudelaires are surrounded by dangerous creatures. Simultaneously, this is the book in which they truly realize Olaf is determined to keep chasing them.

The Wide Window: Lonely ☁️

Imagery of a large, empty house in a grey, foggy lake setting combined with the theme of grief. They are also without their guardian for a while after she faked suicide and was temporarily presumed dead.

The Miserable Mill: Dark 🌑

The Baudelaires do not know what happened with their parents here; information is being hidden from them. Klaus’ vision is literally impaired at several points in the story due to his glasses being damaged, in addition to the mandatory nightly “lights out” immediately after dinner.

The Austere Academy: Slaughter🔪

Vice Principal Nero’s fixation on the violin provides frenzied music, a common theme of the slaughter. The children are collectively cruel to the Baudelaires via Carmelita’s leadership. They demonstrate moblike behavior at the pep rallies.

The Ersatz Elevator: Spiral 🌀

The penthouse has hundreds of rooms and corridors in which one can easily be lost; there are repeating patterns on walls and furniture as well as the children’s clothing. Proportions seem exaggerated, ie the scale of the house, the limo, Esmé’s hat and fur coat, etc. The elevator is a false door that acts as a deception. Esmé is the first character to convincingly lie to the Baudelaires, and the contradictory rules of the In/Out system are nonsensical and confusing. And, of course, there is literally a Red Herring at the auction.

The Vile Village: Buried ⚰️

The Baudelaires are, in a literal sense, in a dry and dusty desert village full of sand. In addition to this, Duncan and Isadora are trapped together in the cramped, dark space of the fountain for the bulk of the story. In a more figurative sense, the Baudelaires are also buried under extensive suffocating and restrictive laws.

The Hostile Hospital: Eye 👁️

Heimlich Hospital contained files of information on nearly every conceivable subject; a massive gathering of knowledge by a man who ironically has poor vision. Olaf keeps a constant watch through the security cameras, and when Klaus is being forced to operate on his sister, an entire theater is seeing him.

The Carnivorous Carnival: Flesh 🥩

While the “carnival freaks” are of course not actually examples of body horror and are just people with deformities, they are still viewed as such by audiences within the narrative. Additionally, Madame Lulu is literally eaten alive by lions.

The Slippery Slope: Vast 🌊

In this case, the Vast mainly refers to the sky and heights, though the ocean is incorporated at the very end leading into the Grim Grotto. Falling off the mountain is a constant background fear; Sunny’s cage is thrown off the edge, and we see Kit do her little falling-and-flying trick with the dragonfly wings.

The Grim Grotto: Corruption 🪰

I was tempted to put the Vast here, but honestly the ocean itself was more of a unusual setting than a legitimate source of fear. The major conflict of the story was the infection/contamination of the Medusoid Mycelium.

The Penultimate Peril: Stranger 🎭

The Baudelaires do not know whether they anyone are speaking with is trustworthy, especially Ernest vs. Dewey.

The End: Extinction 🏭

The island is partially covered in garbage and debris, and everyone there is poisoned by the Medusoid Mycelium and will presumably be wiped out.

*Honorable mentions to the Desolation (fire, suffering) the Lonely (very few believe or help) and the Hunt (Count Olaf’s constant pursuit) as overtones of the entire series.

[nomsfaultau]

Mandatory Family Reunion excerpt I wanna look at

[Something flickers in the expression Phil wears as he scrutinizes Techno. “I’ve tolerated a lot, believe me Technoblade. But the moment your instincts get my child hurt, you’ll find my patience runs very thin. This is unacceptable. Tommy wouldn’t hurt you, surely you know that. Why can’t you just trust people?”

“Trust? You want me to trust!? The last guy I trusted kidnapped me, and now there’s 8 bazillion cameras on my every move and the first time I tasted fresh air in weeks I got dragged back kicking and screaming because someone can’t accept his kid got murdered eighteen years ago!” It’s stupid. Techno knows that, has known it for years. But his words were all he ever had to fight back with when he was too small to do physical damage. Like all things, it’s lashing out, thoughtless. Isn’t he supposed to be smart? Isn’t that the one good thing about him? He’s always caught in reactions, responding in split seconds. 

It’s useless, anyways, even that bravado dies the moment Phil takes a single step forward, Techno’s jaw clicking shut. He should have known Phil’s earlier mercy was to lull him into false security. That's how it always worked with his parents. “Rave at me all you want, call me a lunatic, I. don’t. care. But the moment you hurt my son there has to be consequences.”

“Alright,” he says evenly, even if dread scrapes out his insides in coiling, asphyxiating knots, the familiar leviathan tumultuous in his gut. Techno shifts back, muscles tense. Judging by the murder in his eyes, Techno is only going to survive this one if he fights back. Like hell does he have a chance against the Angel, especially as battered as he is. But all he has to do is last till it’s out of Phil’s system. Maybe this time he’ll be left to lick his wounds in peace. 

Guess Phil really did mean it when he called them family.]

Do you think. Just for a second. Techno's eyes flickered to Philza's belt? And that's what snapped Phil out of his anger? So jarringly forcefully reminded that his son thinks only in terms of abuse that he's waiting to be hit?

(The violent part of the Angel of Death who delivers all comeuppance ten fold in blood, snarling at the threat to his family, unsoothed by the fact Techno is of his blood. Did part of Philza want to hit Techno, even if he would never? How much did he hate himself when faced with a mirror reflecting the Piglins back at him?)

((How bloody did he beat the Piglins after that encounter?))

[sissy-maid-jasmine]

I figured if i should work late, i need to wear an appropriate outfit doing it. Im pretending my boss is waiting for me to enter my office. She's sitting behind the desk. She will tell me she's done with my tardiness and lazy work ethic.

I need to strip and kneel, thank her for her patience and her appropriate punishment for my work behaviour. She will make me apologize until she feels my apologies are sincere. I then have to beg her profusely to keep me as her humble employee, promising her i'll do anything to keep my job. When she feels my humiliation is enough, she will demand i put on the nipple claps and put on the conplete outfit on the table. First my tiniest cage and shockplug, then the diapers, panties and heels. Then the pvc bodysuit, collar and legcuffs. After that she will ask me to put the dildo gag in until i almost gag and secure it tightly. Finally she will lock my dress, cuffs, gag and collar, make me put on the corset and tie a set of handcuffs to my waist with a chain.

She explains the new outfit is mandatory during all working hours and asks if i understand. I will nod submissively. Then she explains that while i'm dressed in my submissive punishment outfit, i have to adress her as Mistress. I humiliatingly nod again and try to sound out 'Yes Mistress' with the dildogag gagging me with each syllable. Finally she explains i have to obey her every word. I sheepishly look at her with unbelieve and nod quickly. She waves her finger around my office and i notice the newly installed high quality cameras that are everywhere! She explains that every time i'm not working on a level that meets her standard, she will start a video connection with a random contact from my phone. The video of the caller is projected on the wall and the shockplug will react to their voice, giving more intense pulses when they talk louder. If i dare to not obey her or forget to refer to her as Mistress, she explains that she will find the most embarrasing contact on my phone to start a videocall with.

She asks me if i she has been clear and if i am ready to be trained. I nod fearfully and try to say 'Yes Mistress' with the gag forcing the dildo deeper down my throat... She looks me deep in the eyes, smiles at me in a cute, girly way and tells me:

"Lock your hands in your handcuffs and show me your what a well trained worker you are!"

Originally written for @therealbootqueen

[ultramaga]

Lately, the government and the top banks of Australia have been pushing for the eradication of payments by cash, leaving phone apps alone, and possibly a medical implant as well.

I have fought against it as best I can, buy there's not much I can do.

It's illegal to have large amounts of cash, and self defense is a crime, so storing at home is not really an option. Besides, I am a disabled pensioner, and the government decided long ago that going through the bank is mandatory.

Covid was the best opportunity they ever had to eliminate personal freedom - I mean, to force everyone to use insecure apps on insecure phones that had insecure operating systems on insecure hardware.

There were scandal when apps were exposed data harvesting, accessing information they didn't have the rights to, and even hacking the microphone and camera of the phone.

https://www.consumerreports.org/electronics-computers/privacy/how-to-protect-yourself-from-camera-and-microphone-hacking-a1010757171/

But the push to do the thing was relentless. You can't stop progress! Nobody else is complaining, the bank told me.

Except people do complain, helpless and hopeless. I worked in tech support, and would hear all day long the agony of those whose assets were cleaned out, and that was in the days of internet banking, when the scammer call centers of India were just a sparkle in Satan's Eye.

You see, the reason banks existed was that they took money in exchange for the service of PROTECTION.

Now, they take your money, and if you get robbed, that's a YOU problem.

And the government is backing them up. Remember the GFC, when most governments expressed their hatred of capitalism by backing banks no matter how badly they embezzled customers?

The Bank and the State had merged.

Mussolini's vision had succeeded.

Fascism took a century, but it in the end, it won. But I am not sure even the 1930s fascists could see this coming.

[aswrittenbyaj]

dance for you

pairing: riri williams x Black reader (feminine) summary: it's the first home game of the season and majorette dancer riri is excited to hear the roar of the crowd in the stans. too ad her number one fan is stuck working. wordcount: 3.1k warnings: rated 18+. minors dni. cursing. not beta’d (that’s a warning in itself). let me know if i missed any! dedications & credits: originally inspired by dominique getting ready for carnival in a couple videos that @axailslink posted a few months ago. hbcu!shuri and hbcu!riri live rent-free in my mind so i went with it. not gonna lie yall, i'm not the happiest with this, only because it was supposed to be longer. every time i tried to expand on it, it just didn't feel right to me which is why the ended may feel a bit abrupt. there might be a part 2 in the future (or a stand alone that could be read in connection to this), but for now, i hope you enjoy.

gif conversions, divider, and banner by: me

she looked so fucking gorgeous. 

it was a little after five when you arrived to riri william's on-campus apartment, smirking up at the small yet advanced security camera she had rigged in place of a key. though you were a little skeevy about facial recognition and have your face scanned into the ether, you trusted her...and you loved being able to pop in and out of her place whenever the desire was there.

you didn't have much time before your six o'clock shift, this weekend being mandatory for all bartenders and not to brag, but you were one of brimstone's best. hell, you should've been. you had worked there since you were a freshman, unable to drink, but more than capable of keeping the liquor flowing and charming your way into extra tips.

ending the door, you headed towards the open bathroom door, your feet stopping as did your heart the second your gaze landed on the beauty that was your girlfriend in makeup. your approach had gone unnoticed, riri's eyes closed as her best friend viv continued to pat the beauty blender up her cheekbones, across her forehead, her back to you. 

"oooh, bitch, i'm scared of you," viv had said, giggling as she put down the orange sponge egg, grabbing the setting spray.

a fine mist sprayed from the clear matte bottle, giving your girlfriend's skin a dewy cast. white teeth flashed between nude painted lips as she laughed, the sound your favorite melody. 

you shifted in your position, leaning against the door frame content with watching your shawty get pampered in peace. she didn't always do this. between her classes, "side hustle", and working on her inventions, riri rarely had the time to press pause on life that was long enough to take time out for herself. honestly, the only time she really allowed herself to get dolled up, outside of date night with you, was during football season.

as a fly girl, a majorette on your university's dance team, there were certain level of self-maintenance riri was required to sustain and while during the off-season that meant she was focused more staying conditioned for the next season, the end-of-summer through winter window was when your girlfriend spent more time (and your money) getting her face beat, her hair styled and her nails filled in. 

not that you were complaining. you would never complain about doing something that made her so happy, her inner glow was physically visible to the naked eye. you be able to provide that for your girl? it made you feel favored and fortunate. 

except on nights like tonight.

though subtle, your shift in movement caught her best friend's attention, eyes glancing up at you through the mirror before going back to the task at hand, rocking her weight back onto her left leg.

"looks like i ain't gonna be the only one scared tonight," she said, swapping the setting spray for a black and white circular hand fan, viv flicking her wrist back and forth, the gentle flow of air speeding up the makeup application drying time.

"whatchu mean?" riri asked, her head tilting slightly, perfectly scuplted brow quirking in interest.

"'cause with the way your girlfriend is lookin' atchu right now, anybody try to step to you tonight finna be scared for a whole 'nother reason."

you couldn't help, but laugh, throwing your head back; first, because of viv's commentary, but as always, your attention was never too far from riri. she chuckled before her friend's words fully interlocked cohesively in her mind, eyes opening immediately, knowing exactly where to look to connect with your own. your pink tongue dragged across the plump of your bottom lip as you settled into the full intensity of those brown eyes focusing on you. 

"hi baby," she said sweetly, soft smile spreading into a wider grin. 

it was clear from the alertness in her eyes, she hadn't expected you to stop by. honestly you were pushing it pretty close since it was a ten minute drive to brimstone, and you still needed to head back to your apartment to shower and get dressed, but if you were stuck working all night, surrounded but a bunch of horny, drunk, and high people, you damn sure were gonna make sure you saw your baby first.

hopping down off the bathroom sink counter, she side-stepped viv, arms immediately wrapped around your waist. careful not to ruin her best friend's hard work, you nudged her chin up, full lips coming down to press against hers, supple as always. 

"hi beautiful," you said, pulling back just enough to mumble the words against her duo-tone lips before capturing them with your own again.

"uh, yeah, girl, i'll meet you downstairs in like twenty minutes."

you barely heard viv as she grabbed her things and left, your attention solely on the young woman who had captured your heart a year and a semester ago. her hands toyed with the hem of your shirt, fingers brushing against the velvet of your skin as your hands shifted  to the sides of her head, fingers threading themselves in her microbraids. 

you pressed your lips against hers a couple more times before pulling back a few more inches to just look at her, taking her in. she used to hate when you did that, stared at her like she was the most precious thing in the world, as if just having her here proved the existence of magic and miracles. 

these days, things were different, her gaze now a mirror, reflecting back a love so deep you could free fall in it and never touch to bottom.

"you so damn pretty," you said, shaking your head slightly as if her beauty were an insult, lips curling upwards into a smile at the way she beamed at your compliment.

"thank you mami," she said, leaning up to press a kiss to your jaw before letting you go, turning to clean up the leftover mess on the counter. "so...how long are you mine for?"

her tone was played casual, but you knew how to see beyond the dramatic lightness of her words.

"forever and a day, but..."

you approached her from behind, hands brushing the terry fabric of her robe as they wrapped around her waist.  you buried the rest of your statement in the space between her neck and robe collar.

"...unfortunately i have to leave in, like, five minutes ago."

"right now? are you serious?" 

you didn't even need to glance in the mirror to see the downturn of her lips though she revealed it to you, half turning in your arms to meet your gaze.

"you really can't make it tonight?"

you sighed softly, the slump of your shoulders obvious. you hated to disappoint her.

"i wish i could." your bottom lip poked out for a second, mimicking her pouty facial expression. "brian's making everybody touch the clock this weekend and since i didn't work last night..."

your voice trailed off, hand on her hip smoothing down over the curve of her ass as you leaned back in for another kiss, this one searing with memories of just how the two of you spent your night off. you weren't the only one still drunk off recollection, a throaty moan vibrating against your lips the second they touched hers. 

all too soon, you pulled apart, a sigh falling from between her painted pout, and not the kind of sigh you loved to coax out from her.

"but you have to go."

you could see her trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice, the urge to kick yourself growing stronger.

"i have to go," you confirmed, the hand on her chin moving down to mimic your right, ten fingers splayed against the soft cotton covering her ass. "but text me where you end up after the game. i'll come find you after my shift," you promised, eyes staying locked on hers for a moment longer, waiting for her nod in agreement. 

her eyes fluttered closed as you pressed a kiss to her forehead, right hand coming down to slap her left ass cheek, the contrast in action drawing a gasping giggle from her and a smirk from you as you made your way out her dorm apartment's door.

yeah, you made a mistake coming in to work tonight. it wasn't that it was boring, not per sé, but at 7 o'clock, it was still pretty early. the only people at the bar were those who couldn't get tickets to the game and with a stadium who's capacity sat at 20,000 people, that number of fanatics without was relatively low. 

still, you weren't bored. you'd just rather had been somewhere else. 

like at the stadium cheering your hbcu's football team on at its first home game of the season...and watching the love of your life shake her ass with a touch of class in the sexiest uniform you've seen in your four years of attending. 

the worst part about it was that you hadn't even seen riri wearing it in-person, instead only getting 8-second glimpses of it on the social media stories of her dance sisters. the last one had been a casual version of the fly girl sway, complete with attitude poses and your favorite thing to see her wear, a smile.

fuck, you had to get out of here.

it took you two beer replacements and an appetizer sampler platter to come up with an easy, but fail-proof way to get out of a shift with a guy like brian. it wasn't hard to find him, the older man hiding away in his office, no doubt watching the game's live feed on his laptop.

your knuckles rapped sharply against the door twice, your boss' head snapping up immediately as if he had gotten caught doing something forbidden. he was so busted. you coughed once to hide your amusement.

"uh, hey brian, i know i just clocked in like 2 hours ago, but i gotta go home."

if anyone knew how to frown with their entire face, it was brian. even his nostrils seemed to display disappointment in your words. 

"and why exactly is that?"

"it's personal."

"so is having a job and working your intended shift to totality."

how you didn't roll your eyes at his bullshit was beyond you. instead, you looked away, left then right, weight shifting back and forth as your shuffled on your feet. after the moment of awkwardness you purposely created, you peeked up at him, grimacing.

"so my cycle just started and there's bl-

brian's work-weathered hand came up to stop your sentience from continuing to completion, just as you knew it would. this was a fifty-four year old man who took his tmi very seriously, which made it pretty easy for you to exploit in emergencies like this. 

"just go, but i expect you to prepared to pick up some extra hours next weekend."

the not-so-veiled threat barely made it to your ears the way you rushed back down the hallway, feet squeaking against the titled floor as you narrowly missed a busboy in your haste.  you rounded the corner of the small break room, using the term "room" loosely.  deft fingers spun the silver combination lock, the tumbler dropping the base so you could pull open the creaking metal door and grab your backpack from the bottom. yanking at the ties of your waist apron, you pulled out the folded bills from the front pocket, the meager tips you managed to earn in the almost two hours of your shift, before shoving the apron and your lock into your bag. 

a loud clang sounded in the room as you closed the door, your feet already in motion towards the entryway and then out the back door.

you contemplated whether or not you should change before heading to campus, your work uniform of black jeans and a black fitted black t-shirt not the worst fit in world, but still nothing close to your usual style. a glance at the clock on the dash told you that if you wanted to see riri's lithe form dancing her heart out, the outfit change would have to wait.

it was a good thing you decided to skip it, too, since the parking lots were full. the packed side streets and grass lot parking had you wishing you had finally gotten your motorcycle license.

turning the block the stadium was on, you could hear the roar of the crowd. you wanted to believe it was for your school, but since the opposing team's school was only two hours away, it wouldn't have surprised you in they had fans attending by the bus-load as well.

just as you were able to say "fuck it" and risk parking in front of the two-hour meter parking you knew was located a couple streets over, a bright orange sign caught you attention, the word "media/press parking" in bold, black block lettering. a smirk formed on your face as you cut your wheel in the new direction.  

the roar of the crowd near deafening as the home team gained 20 yard, only 10 more yards to go to widen the score gap with less than two minutes on the clock before half time, . squeezing through the slow walking and talking bodies, your hand gripped tighter the canon dslr camera that hung from the leather strap adorning your neck, backpack straps trapping the "campus media" badge and lanyard close to your chest.

you had never been so grateful to have joined the yearbook club a year ago, an extra curricular supplement to your photography minor. the navy blue and platinum silver badge pretty much let you get behind the scenes of any school event, which you used to your advantage, flashing the plastic card at the security guard blocking the tunnel gates before slipped past him.

you carefully maneuvered your way along the sideline towards the home team's side of the stans, grateful the that violence of the game was taking place at the other end of the field. it would be just your luck that you got all the way here just to get tackled by a defensive player trying to take down a running back. 

honestly, you couldn't care less about the game, about the screaming fans and the hyped up players near the bench waiting to take their turn on the turf. your eyes searched the stands, instead, easily landing on the twelve dancers sitting poised, one leg crossed over the other as the band behind them transitioned into a new tune.

holding up the camera, you took a few test shots of the fly girls, thumbing quickly to adjust the settings before bringing the viewfinder back up to your face. you couldn't help but zoom in, catching candids of your girlfriend as she waiting for the dance captain to start her lead-in. 

glancing over your shoulder to be sure you were still in the safety zone, you refocused on the task at hand. since there were already other campus photographers on the sidelines, you technically didn't have to get photos of the game, but you weren't going to break cover now, not after you busted your ass to get where you were standing in the first place.

you snapped another photo, looking down at the digital screen with a frown, not exactly happy with the aperture priority.  fiddling with the dials, you glanced up at the stands again, head bobbing as your eye caught the dancer next to riri giving her a nudge and pointing in your direction. speedily, you lifted the camera back up to your face, index pressing down repeatedly as you captured her reaction to your presence. shifting the weight of the camera to your left hand, you raised the right, returning her enthusiastic wave before catching the kiss she blew at you with a smirk.

riri was literally glowing.

the energy in the air was electrifying, supercharged, after the Bruisers took the W, keeping them undefeated at the start of the season. thankfully the teams, band, and dancers were allowed to clear the stadium before the fans, event staff such as yourself following behind.

leaning back against the sleek black of your audi r7, you settled in to wait for riri to exit the blue double doors. honestly, you didn't mind letting the thousands of people fight their way out of their spots and onto the road. you were in no rush, giving a polite smile or wave as familiar faces as they cleared the press lot.

the slight bite of the cool breeze stroked against the bareness of your arms, your hands sliding back and forth to warm them despite the perfectly working heaters on the other side of the car door. just as you were about to give in and sit inside, the petite woman emerged from the double doors, her eyes scanning the busy lot until she found who she was looking for.

you.

it was as if a switch had turned on, the way riri brightened up the moment her eyes landed on you. a smile stretched wide across her face. legs kicking dramatically behind her, she half-jogged in your direction, both hands tucked into the kangaroo pocket of her oversized h---  wait, that was your hoodie. as well as your sweatpants, tied tight to her waist though still baggy on her hips.

"you missed me that much you had to steal my clothes?" you asked, pulling her into your arms.

leaning into her, riri's back bowed slightly as you pressed your full lips to hers, arms pulling her in closer as your lips traveled to her chee bones, her nose, her forehead. her laughter stole her breath as she gave it to the wind, pearly whites to the sky as she grinned.

"well i didn't know if you were comin' or not so i had to do what i had to do." she shrugged, eyebrow quirking as she stood bold in her truth, in her blatant desire to have you close.

"well, i'm here now so no substitutes needed, aight?" your hands slide away from her as you moved to open the passenger side door for her. "so where we headin'--yours or mine? i know you prolly wanna shower before we hit up some parties and i damn sure ain't wearin' this shit out tonight."

eyes never leaving her frame, you watched riri glide into the front seat with the gracefulness only a dancer could have. 

"we can head to yours. i think my 90's lakers jersey dress is over there and you got the perfect jordans to go right wit em too." 

there wasn't anything to say to that, nothing to do but to chuckle and shake your head as your fingers pushed the door closed. there was security in the way riri was so confident in her ability to just assume your things as hers. pride would swell in your chest seeing her swimming in your clothes, her healthy appetite and habitual exercise routine aiding in the appearance of her natural petiteness. not to mention that shit turned you all the way on.

it never felt unappreciated in the way her presence carried over into your personal space, not with the way the invitation was always mutual.

[v0rd1g4n]

The Thundermans Return - Review

All right, as I already stated in Part 1, I really liked the movie. It was great how fast it got released, after they officially announced it back in 2023, less than a year later. I could even enjoy it with the mexican spanish dub (with the same voice actors and everything), as soon as it was available on Paramount+, which by the way was awesome.

However, I think they had a few problems to work with all these characters in the same story, and this is what I think...

The art of nerfing

From time to time, they seem to be forced to nerf their powers for the story to go on and putting about 15 characters with superpowers in a movie like this, quite frankly, is not an easy task. We would expect to see the twins stronger and experienced than ever and probably they are, but its more likely that they tried to balance things up.

I think this is like creating a Superman game, which by the way, is something people have been discussing for a while. You could try to make it perfectly accurate to how powerful he can get to be, which is practically a god, but this is just a lot to work with and that's why they need to nerf, either his superpowers or the city. Otherwise, the game would be boring.

All right, let's get to it. These are my thoughts...

Losing a lost battle

First of all, when the family go to stop Blue Flame, the Thundertwins didn't even use telekinesis against him. Only close range atacks like heat breath from a long distance, which has no sense. Especially for someone like Phoebe.

What about Max's gadgets? All we saw was the jetpack but none of his new inventions, maybe a repulsor gauntlet or something like that. I know the Thundermans were meant to fail on this save, but I just think it could've been better executed.

A lost opportunity

Also, when Max and Phoebe get caught by the V-Team, I would've liked to see an intense fight between them, maybe not as good as the one they have, later in the movie and then get defeated by a bad decision from one of the twins, for example.

Besides, they could've left a huge mess all around the headquarters, for President Kickbutt and her team to find and start to investigate the V-Team.

A missing fight

During the Thundermans house break in, again, it would have been cool to see a small fight before they show how Max and Phoebe were being tortured. Maybe even turning Dr. Colosso back into a human, to help them out or something.

The amount of destruction inside of the house with all those powers, would've been amazing. By the way, did you notice how Chloe walks out of the scene, right before the V-Team get in the house?

Prison break

Near the end of the movie, we learn that the V-Team had broken their parents out of prison, and again, a security camera shot of them taking a few guards down and breaking out of prison together, would've been enough for me.

We've only seen Metroburg Super Jail from the outside and the cells area, but that building looks massive. Also, did you see they forgot to add the Metrobug Superjail sign at the top of the building? This screenshot is from "Tunder In Paradise".

The band and the mothers hunter

Other things I would've liked to see, is Max and his band playing a song at Splatburger again and not only talking about rejoining the band. Maybe even having Gideon still dating Sarah, instead of trying to become the next Paul Finch, still obsessed with his friend's mother, I mean... come on dude, chill out! 🤣

Weird relationship

And of course, how could this be a Nickelodeon show/movie, without the mandatory awkward scene? Dr. Colosso, a grown ass man turned into a rabbit, had been using Max's old suit as a sooting blanket. It was funny though.

I think sometimes the writers jut forgot that Dr. Colosso was not a talking rabbit. Oh, and by the way... what happened to his son, Balfour? They didn't even mention him.

Interesting origin but bad executed

And last but not least important, I'd like to talk about the reason I said in Part 1, that the Power Plant was a terrible idea.

But don't get me wrong. The origin of superpowers was interesting, but if Hank and Barb had this source of powers at home all along, then why didn't they use the blue seeds to go stop Dark Mayhem after Max took their powers away with the power-sapping orb?

Obviously, this was years before the movie came out, but still, it kind of ruins the moment, now that I look back and know what was really there.

Budget and filming

Now, I don't know if the budget was pretty low for the movie to last only 1 hour and 10 minutes or if it was filmed in a short span, but maybe that's what happened, because I remember people saying the filming was over in less than a month, so that may be the reason we didn't get to see more cool stuff, but I don't know.

I'm just speculating.

Music

As for the music, I gotta say I really liked it, except for the V-Team's song. It was funny, but not my thing. The new version of the theme song played during the closing credits, was so cool and I don't know if you're gonna be with me on this, but the song we could hear during the final battle against Dark Mayhem, was great.

I even turned on the subtitles while writing this and look what it says in the background. Damn! I thought the movie was for kids 🤣

VFX

And finally the VFX. I did have in mind that the movie was family friendly, so the special effects we see during the entire movie, are practically an improved version of the ones we've previously seen on the TV Show, which is cool most of the time, but sometimes... it doesn't.

Thundercest

Did you really think I wasn't gonna talk about Thundercest here? Well, guess again. It would've been awesome to have another big hug between Max and Phoebe, just like the one we saw in "Thunder in Paradise", but we can't have everything, right?

It's weird, because Max and Phoebe share a lot of screen time together, but something feels different than the tv show vibes. Don't you think? Anyway, here's a couple pics of them together.

Errors

I wasn't sure if I should share these two errors I found while writing Part 1 and Part 2 because this is not a movie rant, but it's kind of funny now that I think about it. So here they are:

Did you notice how they changed She-Crab's claw from one arm to the other?

Or how Phoebe's footage was duplicated while blowing freeze breath at Dark Mayhem Jr.?

And as Forrest Gump would say: “That's all I have to say about that”.

Colosso, the skater

Oh, wait. I almost forgot... All of the promos and posters had a small picture of Dr. Colosso on a skateboard. Is a deleted scene or something? I guess we'll never know.

Look at that. I wanna see Dr. Colosso performing a few tricks on a skateboard.

#SpingarnCut

Ranking

All right, I rank this movie 8/10.

And this is it, guys. I hope I'm not forgetting something important. I've been writing Part 2 and this post for the last three days, so please tell me what you think about the movie, about my review and if you'd like to see more of The Thundermans soon.

How would you rank the movie?

Let me know all your comments.