#so that probably helps lower the stakes a lot

[rowanthestrange]

You ever heard of ‘second childing’? That thing where for your first child you read all the books, you hyperfocus on every little thing, plan out their life and time, and rush them to the doctor if they hiccup; but for your second child you just watch casually as Jessica ricochets off the coffee table and you’re like…‘eh, they’re fine’.

Second Childing this puppy hard. Are we fully puppy proofed? Beh, it’s safe. Sure the ground level food cabinet door hasn’t been reattached yet and we’re gonna see him wander in with a packet of instant noodles at some point, but whatever.

[shrimpybbq]

the thought of drew and obx actress!reader sweeping award season with their crime drama😍 maybe it’s about 2/3 seasons too to really get their characters yearning…

Hehe they’re on the red carpet at the Emmy’s with the rest of the cast but they’ve split off together to do interviews. The reporters are ecstatic at getting the main actor and actress of the hottest tv show this year in front of them. Ever the gentleman, Drew has his hand resting on her lower back as he guides them through the interview line ups.

“So Drew! Y/N! How are we feeling? Your show is predicted to sweep the awards tonight - what’s that feeling like?”

Drew looks over and obx actress!reader before smirking cheekily. “I mean… I’m honoured,” he drawled, laughing as he received a playful swat to his chest at the now-famous remark. “No, but really, it’s really rewarding to know that people are liking and appreciating our work. Just a big thank you to everyone who has watched our little show. For letting us put two seasons out as well - it’s amazing to see people have faith in us.”

When the reporter turned to obx!actress reader, she spoke too, “Pretty much just echoing Drew, but it’s been quite intense! You know, you always have hope that your project is going to do well, but seeing the way this has blown up and the love from the fans for us and these characters has been incredible!”

Drew nodded alongside her. The cameras caught the way the pair had subtly begun to lean into each other, though it was clear neither was aware of it.

“And guys, coming from Outer Banks to this kind of show, it must be crazy! You two played an on-off couple before, but now for your characters, the stakes are a lot higher. What would you say has been the most important thing to help you portray this different kind of relationship, especially balancing the really challenging scenes you’re filming?”

Drew reached for the mic first, looking towards obx actress!reader momentarily for approval before speaking. “Yeah, I think knowing each other for so long beforehand was probably the most important thing. We would always debrief after scenes and check in to make sure we were both good, just keeping ourselves in good condition.”

He passed the mic to the shorter woman by his side, turning his attention to her.

“When you’re filming scenes that put you on edge and really push you out of your comfort zone, having people you feel safe with is just so invaluable. Pedro was great with that too, and all the cast on the show really recognised the nature of what we were portraying. Drew and I had a routine that each evening after filming, we would go and get ice cream from this place near the set and just chill. It was really great to just sit silently and eat for a while, you know?”

The interviewer nodded, incredibly pleased with the answers she’d managed to get from the pair so far.

“Ok! So my last question before you go is this - who is the best dancer on the set? Drew, I know you love to show off your dance moves, but there are quite a few great dancers in the cast!”

The pair both thought silently for a moment, before obx actress!reader leaned into the mic, “it has to be Pedro! He loves a quick dance party in between takes.”

“I’m also gonna go with Pedro,” Drew chimed in.

The interviewer grinned widely, thanking them quickly as their publicist began to shuffle the actors over to the next interview stand. The camera caught the pair waving goodbye as they moved over, not failing to capture the way Drew’s hand still rested on obx actress!reader’s back. This time though, her hand was resting on his bicep as she turned to talk to him, their bodies pressed closely together. The interviewer thanked her lucky stars that the pair were so touchy because her editor was going to love this.

[mingi-s-dimples]

Pushed too far - JongJoong

~reader has been thinking about "playing" with Jongho for so long, teasing him around the house and in front of the other members (she’s the group’s submissive that they share). Hongjoong won’t allow it because Jongho is a little more rough than she’s used to. So Jongho shows reader exactly how rough he can be, and Hongjoong can’t help but to participate 🤭~ req. by @miyaluvvsyou

pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader x jongho

genre: 18+, filth

summary: when you tipped the stakes just a little bit higher than you're supposed to.. jongho made sure to let you know just how rough he is.

wc: 4.9k

warnings: rough dom!jongho, softer dom!hongjoong, reader is ateez's fuck toy, neck choking, bulge kink (thru pants and neck/stomach i promise it's nothing too wild), hair pulling, head pushing, double blowjob, multiple orgasms, loooooots of cum, deepthroating, cursing, some pet names, 3some, lots of teasing, manhandling, unprotected (boo use protection irl!), completely consensual!, for sure forgot something, might edit later (probably).

Author's Note: this was hot ngl. tysm sweetie for requesting this... this was truly inspiring LMAO, i wrote it it one day :>. AND I ALSO LOVE HOW IT IS so it's a win win ^^. i hope you like itttttttt if you do plsplspls let me know down below or dm me ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the members.

The penthouse was buzzing with low chatter and the occasional clink of ice against glass, but none of that mattered—not when the real tension in the room was crackling between you and Jongho like a live wire, waiting to snap.  

You had been at this for weeks, pushing, testing, toeing the line Hongjoong had drawn between you and the one man you weren’t allowed to have. Jongho was too rough, he had said. Too intense. He wouldn’t hold back the way the others did, wouldn’t handle you with the same measured control.  

But that was exactly what you wanted. So you pushed.  

Tonight, you were being particularly cruel. Draped lazily over the armrest of Jongho’s chair, your bare legs stretched out across his lap, your silk shorts riding dangerously high. Every few minutes, you shifted—innocently, sweetly—just enough to brush against him. You let your fingers dance along the hard muscle of his arm, traced slow, teasing circles against his bicep, whispering soft, honeyed nothings just to see how long he could take it.  

Jongho had been silent the entire time. His drink sat untouched in his hand, his other arm draped over the back of the chair, muscles flexed so tight you could see the strain in his forearm. His jaw was locked, his throat bobbing with every controlled breath, his legs stiff beneath yours.  

You bit your lip, suppressing a grin. He was close. So close.  

Time to end him.  

You let your foot drop lower, your toes grazing the inside of his thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate, teasing. And then, as if it was the most casual thing in the world, you nudged your foot forward—right against the thick bulge straining beneath his sweatpants.  

Jongho inhaled sharply. His fingers twitched around his glass. But you weren’t done.  

You pressed a little harder, just enough to feel the outline of him through the fabric, your breathy little sigh slipping past your lips like a sweet, wicked confession. “Poor thing,” you murmured, voice laced with faux sympathy. “Bet that’s been aching for me for a while now, huh?”  

Glass shattered.  

You barely had time to process what had happened before Jongho moved. One second, you were smirking, enjoying the control you had over him—the next, you were being yanked off the armrest and into his lap, a sharp gasp escaping you as his hands gripped your thighs with bruising force.  

“Fuckin’ brat,” he muttered, voice low, dark, dangerous. His hands tightened, keeping you pinned against him, the hard length of him pressing against your core through thin layers of fabric. “You have no idea what you just did.”  

Across the room, Hongjoong hummed in amusement, setting his drink down as he stood. “Oh, I think she knows exactly what she did.” His lips curled into a knowing smirk as he watched you squirm in Jongho’s grasp. “She’s been waiting for this.”  

Jongho exhaled through his nose, chest heaving as he stared down at you. His pupils were blown wide, his restraint hanging by a thread.  

You swallowed, lips parting as your breath hitched. “So,” you whispered, voice soft, teasing. “Are you gonna do something about it?” Jongho snapped.  

In a blur of movement, you were hoisted up and thrown over his shoulder, a surprised squeal slipping past your lips as he stormed toward the bedrooms.  

“Hey!” you whined, kicking your legs, but his arm tightened around your waist, holding you in place like a ragdoll.  

Behind you, Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, following close behind. “No point in fighting it now, sweetheart,” he taunted, voice laced with something dark and eager. “You asked for this.”  

As Jongho shoved open the bedroom door, dragging you inside with zero hesitation, one of the other members exhaled heavily from the couch, shaking his head.  

“Well…” he muttered, smirking as he took a sip of his drink. “She’s fucked.”  

And as the door slammed shut behind you, locking you in with two ravenous men who had been waiting for this moment for far too long, you realized—  

He was absolutely right.

The second the door slammed shut behind you, Jongho wasted no time. His hands were on you instantly, rough and possessive, dragging you closer as his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. His shirt had already been discarded, and now his dark eyes raked over you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.  

“You think you’re funny?” His voice was low, dangerous, the calm before the storm.  

Your lips curled into a smirk, tilting your head up at him defiantly. “A little.”  

Wrong answer.  

Jongho scoffed, fingers tightening around the hem of the oversized shirt you had stolen—his shirt, because you liked the way it smelled like him. But right now? He didn’t seem to care about sentimentality.  

“Not anymore, you’re not,” he growled before yanking it off you in one swift motion, leaving you in just your barely-there shorts. His gaze darkened, jaw clenching as he took in the sight of your bare skin. His palm traced the side of your waist, fingers flexing like he was restraining himself from grabbing you too roughly.  

But then his control snapped—because those tiny, teasing shorts were mocking him.  

With one sharp tug, he had them halfway down your thighs before you could protest, his hungry gaze drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself.  

Behind him, Hongjoong let out a low chuckle. “Mind if I join in?”  

Jongho didn’t even hesitate. He glanced back at him, pupils blown wide, and rasped, “You better come here.”  

Hongjoong smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before stepping closer. The two of them towered over you now, chests bare, muscles flexing under the dim lighting.  

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as you knelt at the edge of the bed, looking up at them with wide, innocent eyes—eyes that only made them harder.  

Jongho’s sweatpants did nothing to hide how much he wanted you. The thick, aching outline of his cock pressed tightly against the fabric, straining almost painfully. Hongjoong wasn’t far behind, the bulge in his jeans prominent as he tilted his head, watching you with that ever-calculating gaze.  

“Look at you,” Hongjoong murmured, voice smooth, teasing. “Got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?”  

Jongho let out a slow, shaky exhale, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Not yet,” he muttered. “But she will.”  

And just like that, the last of your teasing had run its course. Jongho reached for his waistband. And you knew—this was only the beginning. 

Jongho smirked down at you, tilting his head slightly, amusement flickering behind his darkened eyes. His hands settled on his hips, his cock still straining against his sweatpants, evident even in the dim lighting of the room.  

“Now what are you gonna do about it, hm?” His voice was deep, slow, condescending.  

You swallowed, heat pooling in your stomach at his tone.  

Hongjoong chuckled, brushing a thumb across his bottom lip as he watched you from the side. “You’ve been begging for this for so long, sweetheart,” he mused. “Are you gonna take us like a good girl? Or are you just all talk?”  

Jongho clicked his tongue. “I think she wants to prove herself,” he drawled, eyes burning into yours. “Wants to show us how desperate she is. Isn’t that right?”  

You couldn’t answer—not with the way they were looking at you, towering over you like they had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. Your body felt hot, heavy, completely under their control without them even touching you.  

So instead of speaking, your hands moved on their own.  

Your fingers ghosted over the thick outline of Jongho’s cock first, pressing lightly through the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling the sheer heat of him underneath. He let out a slow exhale, his jaw tightening at the sensation.  

Then, your other hand found Hongjoong’s jeans, palm smoothing over his length, feeling how hard he was beneath the rough material. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but his lips curled into a knowing smirk, eyes half-lidded as he watched you.  

“You’re trembling,” Jongho murmured. His voice was quieter this time, taunting. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You were so confident earlier.”  

You sucked in a shaky breath, your fingers tightening around the fabric of their pants as if grounding yourself. Then, without another word, you hooked your fingers into the waistbands of their pants and pulled.  

Hongjoong let out a low chuckle. Jongho groaned. And then— Their cocks sprung free.  

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes flickering between them, heat flooding your veins.  

Jongho’s was thick, heavy, the head flushed a deep red from how hard he was. A bead of precum sat at the tip, evidence of just how much you had worked him up. Hongjoong’s was just as impressive, slightly longer, the veins along the shaft prominent as he exhaled slowly, watching your reaction with amusement.  

You barely registered the way your thighs pressed together, how your breathing grew uneven as you stared.  

Jongho let out a breathy laugh, his fingers brushing along your jaw. “Speechless now, are we?”  

Hongjoong leaned in slightly, voice smooth as silk. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, tilting your chin up. “You’ll be using that pretty little mouth soon enough.”  

And from the way their eyes darkened even further, you knew—  

You were in for it.

Your lips parted, tongue darting out instinctively as your eyes flickered between them. The sheer size of them, the heat radiating off their bodies, the way they were both staring down at you with predatory intent—it had you dizzy.  

Hongjoong smirked, brushing a hand through your hair as he nodded toward Jongho. “Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Show him what that mouth of yours can do.”  

Jongho didn’t say a word. He just watched you, eyes dark and burning with expectation. So, you did.  

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock first, warmth pulsing against your palm as you leaned in. You started slow, kitten-licking the tip, feeling the way he tensed under your touch. Then, you parted your lips and took him in, inch by inch, savoring the weight of him on your tongue.  

Jongho inhaled sharply, his head tilting back slightly as his grip tightened at his sides. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice strained.  

You bobbed your head, working him deeper, your tongue swirling around his length as your other hand reached for Hongjoong. Your fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him in tandem with your movements, teasing him even as you focused on Jongho.  

Hongjoong let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Such a good girl for us.”  

You hummed around Jongho in response, the vibrations making his breath hitch. His patience was wearing thin—you could feel it in the way his fingers twitched, his thighs tensed, his chest heaved.  

And then, suddenly, his hand tangled in your hair, tugging you off him with a wet pop.  

“I don’t feel like sharing,” he rasped. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw clenched. “Not like this.”  

Before you could react, he guided your head toward Hongjoong’s cock instead, pushing you to take him next. Your lips barely had time to part before Hongjoong slid in, groaning as he felt the warmth of your mouth around him.  

You tried to pace yourself, but Jongho wasn’t having it. His grip tightened, tilting your head just so before he muttered, “Open wider.” And then—he pushed you back toward his cock, his length brushing against Hongjoong’s as he nudged himself past your lips again. Your eyes widened as you felt them both pressing at your mouth, Jongho’s impatience clear in the way he guided you to take them together.  

“Come on,” he murmured, his voice deep, teasing. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”  

Hongjoong exhaled sharply, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Let’s see how much you can handle, sweetheart.”  

And from the way Jongho smirked down at you, one thing was clear—  You were about to find out.  

Jongho's grip in your hair tightened, a silent warning before he and Hongjoong began moving in tandem, setting a brutal pace.  

Your throat burned, lips stretched wide as they thrust into your mouth, using you just how they wanted. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you gagged around them, but the needy whimpers vibrating in your chest only spurred them on.  

"Look at her," Hongjoong groaned, his fingers tangling deeper in your hair. "So fucking pretty like this—just a little mess between us, yeah?"  

Jongho let out a low chuckle, but his jaw was clenched, his restraint hanging by a thread. His cock twitched every time he felt the tight squeeze of your throat, every time he saw your pretty eyes glass over with need. He wanted to finish—God, he wanted to—but he refused to be the first. His pride wouldn’t allow it.  

So he held back, even as his body screamed for release, watching through half-lidded eyes as Hongjoong fucked into your mouth a little faster, his own control fraying.  

"Fuck," Hongjoong exhaled, his hips stuttering. His fingers tightened in your hair before a sharp inhale hissing escaped through his teeth. "Shit—"  

Hongjoong let out a shuddering breath, his grip in your hair tightening as his hips jerked forward. “Fuck—” he hissed, voice strained. His cock twitched against your tongue, and a second later, he groaned deep, spilling himself inside your mouth.  

The heat of it coated your tongue, the bitter taste making your body tremble. He didn’t pull out right away, his breath uneven as he let the aftershocks of his orgasm ride out. Then, with a sharp inhale, he finally eased back, his release dripping from the corner of your lips.  

You barely had time to process it before Jongho took control. His patience had run out.  

A hand tangled in your hair, forcing you onto his cock with a harsh thrust. The sudden depth made your throat clench around him, your eyes going wide as a strangled sound escaped you.  

Jongho groaned, head tilting back slightly, his other hand pressing against your cheek, feeling the bulge in your throat as he fucked deep into your mouth. His muscles were tight, his control slipping with every drag of your lips around him.  

“Fuck,” he growled. “That’s it—take it all.”  

You tried to breathe, tried to keep up, but he wasn’t letting you go.  

His hips snapped forward one last time, burying himself deep as his cock pulsed. Hot spurts of cum flooded your throat, thick and overwhelming, making you choke around him. Your nails dug into his thighs, your body shaking, but he didn’t move—he held you there, making sure you took every drop.  

Only when your throat convulsed around him did he finally pull out, a thin string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to his tip. Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, dazed and spent, but Jongho wasn’t finished with you just yet. His fingers tilted your chin up, dark eyes locking onto yours.  

“Swallow.”  

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, tongue darting out to catch what lingered on your lips before you swallowed every last drop. Jongho groaned, thumb brushing against your lower lip. “Good girl.” Then, with one firm push, he sent you sprawling onto the bed.  

Your back hit the mattress, your mind still hazy, as the two men finally kicked off the pants that had been pooled at their ankles.  

Your pulse raced, anticipation curling in your stomach as you stared up at them—both fully bare now, standing at the edge of the bed, looking at you like they were ready to devour you whole.  

And from the heat in their eyes, from the way Jongho cracked his neck and Hongjoong smirked down at you— You knew they weren’t anywhere near done.

Jongho ran a hand through his hair, his chest still rising and falling with exertion, but his eyes? His eyes were locked onto you, full of unrestrained hunger.  

“Fuck, look at her,” he muttered, his voice rough, raw. “She’s already ruined, and we haven’t even started.”  

Hongjoong hummed in agreement, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. But then, an idea flickered in his gaze—one that made his cock twitch back to full hardness. He leaned in slightly, voice low, teasing.  

“I think I have an idea,” he murmured, making sure Jongho was paying attention. “You’re gonna love this.”  

Jongho’s jaw flexed as he listened, his dark eyes narrowing, and then— A slow, wicked grin spread across his lips.  

“Perfect.”  

Before you could even catch your breath, they moved.  

Jongho grabbed your legs, lifting you effortlessly as Hongjoong settled himself against the headboard. You let out a soft gasp as your back was pulled flush against his chest, his cock—still sensitive, still dripping from earlier—pressing hot and heavy against your ass.  

His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you snug in place as he leaned down, whispering against your ear.  

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone. “You’re gonna need it.” But Jongho wasn’t in the mood to wait.  

You barely had time to process what was happening before he was there—towering over you, gripping your thighs, spreading you wide for himself. His breath was uneven, his control frayed, and without so much as a warning— He pushed in.  

Your body arched, a choked sound escaping your lips as Jongho buried himself deep in one swift, brutal thrust. No teasing, no slow adjustment—just the sudden, overwhelming stretch of him filling you completely.  

Your fingers dug into Hongjoong’s thighs, your legs trembling as Jongho set a relentless pace, fucking into you hard, fast, possessive. Your head tipped back against Hongjoong’s shoulder, mouth open, breathless.  

“Fucking hell,” Jongho growled, his grip bruising on your thighs. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be ruined?”  

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think—only moan as he fucked you senseless. But then—  Jongho shot Hongjoong a glance. A silent signal. And Hongjoong understood immediately.  The arm around your waist tightened, and suddenly—you felt it. The thick press of his cock nudging at your entrance alongside Jongho’s. A soft, broken sound escaped you. Your body jolted, legs shaking, but Hongjoong just shushed you gently, pressing a kiss to your temple as he started to push in.  

The stretch was unbearable.  

The feeling of them both inside you at once had your mind blanking, your breath hitching into little whimpers as your body struggled to take them.  

But they didn’t care.  

They were focused only on the way you clenched around them, the way your body trembled, the way your nails dug into Hongjoong’s arms as they filled you together, stretching you beyond what you thought you could handle.  

And then— They moved.  

A sharp cry ripped from your throat as Jongho’s hips snapped forward, burying himself deep just as Hongjoong thrust up into you. There was no adjustment period, no easing you into it—they were already ruining you, just like they promised.  

The pace was brutal, overwhelming. Jongho’s grip on your thighs tightened, using them for leverage as he fucked into you hard, deep, his body completely lost to the feeling of you wrapped so tightly around him.  

Hongjoong groaned low against your ear, his fingers trailing down to press against your clit as he rolled his hips up into you, pushing impossibly deeper.  

Your body shook, overstimulated, overwhelmed, tears slipping down your cheeks as they took you together—fucking you open, stretching you beyond anything you’d ever experienced.  

Their pace didn’t slow—it only grew rougher.  

Jongho’s thrusts turned ruthless, his cock slamming into you with deep, unforgiving force, stretching you wide around him. Hongjoong groaned against your neck, his hands gripping your waist tightly, his own thrusts erratic as he drove himself up into you from below.  

You were wrecked between them, their cocks dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, pushing you higher and higher. Your body trembled, your nails digging into Hongjoong’s thighs, your legs barely holding up.  

“Look at you,” Jongho growled, voice wrecked, gripping your waist even tighter. “So fucking desperate, so fucking full.”  

Your breath hitched, tears pricking at your eyes. “Please—”  

Hongjoong chuckled against your skin, pressing a hot kiss to your shoulder. “Please what, sweetheart?”  

A sob tore from your throat. “Let me come—please, I need to—”  

Jongho cursed under his breath, his grip turning bruising. “Fuck—”  

Hongjoong groaned, hips stuttering for a moment. “You gonna come for us, baby?” His voice was dripping with heat. “Gonna let us feel you?”  

That was all it took.  

Your body seized up between them, your head tipping back, a choked cry escaping your lips as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched down hard, milking their cocks, leaving you shaking and gasping.  

That sent them over the edge.  

“Shit—” Jongho lost it first, slamming deep one last time as his cock throbbed inside you, his release spilling hot and thick. The feeling of him filling you up sent Hongjoong right after, his grip on your hips tightening as he groaned into your skin, emptying himself inside you, stuffing you impossibly full with their combined release.  

The overstimulation made your whole body tremble, soft whimpers spilling from your lips as their hips twitched against you, drawing out every last drop.  

Jongho pulled out with a low groan, watching his release leak out of you, mixing with Hongjoong’s. Something dark flashed in his eyes.  

“You’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he murmured.  

Before you could catch your breath, Jongho flipped you over, pressing your face into Hongjoong’s lap. The older man chuckled, brushing damp strands of hair from your face as you blinked up at him, dazed.  

His cock was still hard, slick with release, right in front of your lips.  

“Open up, baby,” Hongjoong murmured, his fingers tracing your jaw. “Let’s see that pretty mouth of yours.”  

Your lips parted instinctively, your tongue darting out to tease his tip.  

Behind you, Jongho was already moving again, gripping your hips and thrusting back inside you without hesitation, filling you up with their combined mess.  

A muffled cry escaped you, your throat tightening around Hongjoong’s cock as Jongho started moving again, his thrusts just as deep, just as brutal.  

“Fuck—” Hongjoong groaned, his head tipping back as you swallowed around him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”  

Jongho’s breath was ragged as he fucked into you, his cock pushing every bit of their release deeper inside you. “You’re taking us so well,” he muttered darkly. “Hope you’re ready, because we’re not stopping yet.”  

And from the way they were both panting, their hands gripping you tighter, their eyes locked onto you with nothing but hunger—  

You knew they were about to ruin you all over again.  

Their pace was merciless.  

Jongho was buried deep inside you, slamming into you with raw, relentless force, hitting every spot that had you seeing stars. His grip on your waist was bruising, holding you in place as he pounded into you, making you take every inch.  

At the same time, Hongjoong had a fist tangled in your hair, guiding your head down onto his cock, forcing you to take him deeper than before. The tip nudged against the back of your throat, making your eyes sting with tears as you swallowed around him.  

“Look at her,” Hongjoong groaned, his free hand cupping your jaw as he watched the tears spill onto his lap. “So fucking pretty like this.”  

Jongho’s breath was ragged behind you, his thrusts only getting rougher. “She wanted to be a tease, huh? Wanted to act like she could handle me?” He let out a low, satisfied chuckle. “Bet you’re regretting it now.”  

Your muffled cries were drowned out by the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin, of your mouth working over Hongjoong’s cock, of the slick mess Jongho was thrusting into. Your body was trembling, overwhelmed, teetering on the edge once again.  

And when they both pushed as deep as they could—  

Hongjoong inching further down your throat, Jongho stretching you wide with one final, brutal thrust—  It hit you like a tidal wave.  

Your body tensed, your back arching as the orgasm crashed over you, your walls clenching around Jongho so hard it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs. But this time— You didn’t just come.  

You squirted.  

A sharp cry was muffled around Hongjoong’s cock as your release gushed out of you, soaking Jongho, the sheets, everything in its path.  

Jongho *froze* for a split second—before a deep, pleased chuckle rumbled from his chest.  

“Fuck—look at this messy little thing,” he said, voice dripping with satisfaction. “She just fucking squirted all over us, Joong.”  

Hongjoong groaned, thrusting harder into your mouth, pushing you right to the brink of overstimulation. “Shit, baby. That was—” His sentence was cut off by his own wrecked moan.  

Jongho smirked, still buried deep inside you. “Come on, Captain. Pick up the pace. Let’s *really* wreck her.”  

And just like that, Hongjoong’s grip on your hair tightened.  

He didn’t hold back.  

He fucked into your mouth with sharp, deep thrusts, making you choke around him, your throat spasming. Your fingers curled into the sheets, your body barely able to hold itself up, completely at their mercy.  

A few more thrusts—Hongjoong gritted his teeth, his hips stuttering—  

“Fuck—”  

With a low groan, he buried himself deep one last time, his cock twitching as he came straight down your throat, hot and thick. The taste of him flooded your mouth, dripping from the corners of your lips, but before you could even think about pulling away—  

Jongho *grabbed* your jaw.  

“Swallow.” His voice was low, commanding.  

You obeyed immediately, the muscles of your throat working as you took every last drop, a soft whimper escaping your lips.  

Jongho *grinned*.  

“Good girl.”  

But he wasn’t done.  

Before you could even process what was happening, he *yanked* your head back by your hair, arching your spine, making your back curve beautifully for him.  

It made you take him even *deeper*.  

You sobbed out his name, hands gripping at anything you could reach, your body trembling. The sheer angle of his cock had you completely wrecked, hitting spots so deep you swore you could *feel* him in your stomach.  

The sounds spilling from you only made him go harder.  

“Not so bratty now, are you?” Jongho growled, his grip tightening as he pounded into you. “Not teasing me now, huh?”  

Your walls clenched desperately around him, squeezing every inch, and that was it— His breath hitched, his hips slamming into you one last time, burying himself deep as he let go.  

“Fuck—”  

His release filled you up once more, hot and overwhelming, stuffing you full until you felt like you couldn’t possibly take anymore.  

He groaned through gritted teeth, thrusting a few more times, making sure every drop stayed inside you, before finally stilling.  

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breaths. Then— Hongjoong chuckled, his fingers tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.  

“Maybe next time you’ll think twice before teasing him like that.”  

Jongho, still panting, smirked as he let your body collapse against the mattress.  

“But honestly?” He exhaled, dragging his fingers down your trembling thighs, admiring the mess they’d made of you.  

“You should do it more often.” 

Your body was spent, trembling from exhaustion as you lay limp against the mattress, your chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.  

Jongho, still hovering over you, watched the way his cum slowly dripped from between your thighs, his expression dark with satisfaction.  

But then, something shifted.  

The intensity in his eyes softened, and his hands—so rough just moments ago—were suddenly gentle as he ran them over your body, soothing the marks he’d left behind.  

Hongjoong chuckled beside you, dragging the pads of his fingers down your arm, his touch featherlight.  

“Look at her,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “Completely ruined.”  

Jongho hummed, leaning in closer, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Mhm… but she’s *ours*, isn’t she?”  

Before you could answer, he *bit down* on your neck, right where everyone would *see*.  

A sharp gasp left your lips as his teeth sank in, not enough to hurt—but enough to mark you. To claim you.  

The sting faded into pleasure as he trailed kisses along your collarbones, biting down again, this time just above your breast.  

Hongjoong exhaled a laugh, watching the possessiveness unfold with a knowing smirk.  

“You just *had* to mark her up, didn’t you?”  

Jongho pulled back slightly, admiring his work. The faint bruises on your skin, the evidence that you *belonged* to them.  

“Damn right,” he muttered.  

You whined softly, your body too exhausted to even pretend to be bratty anymore. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest, his warmth instantly comforting.  

“Mm, let’s get cleaned up,” he murmured against your hair.  

Jongho smirked, brushing his lips over your ear. “Let’s take a shower together.”  

Hongjoong raised a brow, teasing. “What, no *round two*?”  

Jongho rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t waver. “You *wish* she could handle another round right now.”  

You let out a breathless laugh, melting between them as they both chuckled, their bodies surrounding you in warmth.  

And as they carried you off to the shower, you knew one thing for sure—  

You were so in for it next time.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

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[somerunner]

In my high school, all you needed to get a varsity letter in cross country was, I think, to get under 19 minutes on a 5K. Most of the varsity letter requirements for other sports were similarly easy to meet. Our school wasn't known for athletics.

My first race was a little under 22 minutes long, and every year I struggled to get my time lower than 19:50.

My senior year, I had hit puberty, so I had more strength and cardiovascular fitness than before. I figured I would make it this time, and I trained as optimally as I could. I followed the coaches' directions more closely (my brother and I were once told that, given our fitness, we should never run slower than 9 minutes a mile for an easy run; it took until senior year for me to actually follow that advice). I ate well, slept...probably poorly, and I felt pretty fit compared to previous years. My dad bought me and my brothers Garmin Forerunners, which are GPS watches that can tell you your pace in the middle of a race. He came to as many of our races as he could all throughout high school, and our mom did too (she came to our middle school races in addition to high school ones -- it was no fault of our dad's, not to come to our middle school races; I find it impressive and touching that he made it to almost all of my high school ones. In middle school it was always some random distance so we never really had a consistent distance to truly compete against ourselves with. High school had bigger teams and each race always right around five kilometers, with one notable exception).

The watches helped a lot. (I still have mine from back then, but it struggles to hold a charge for a full run unless you've kept it in the charger until the minute you go running. I don't use it quite as much; I've misplaced my charger too often, and I don't want to look for it a day in advance just so my watch can tell me my strides per minute (arguably important, but I digress). I can't pace myself any better than in high school, but I don't need to because there's no exact season or race I'm training for -- though for something big, like a marathon, I will actually use the watch. My phone can record my pace for less-important runs.)

Anyway. Back to the point. I hadn't broken 19 minutes my whole senior year, and we were down to one last race. I was anxious the whole last week. The last three days, I could practically feel adrenaline seeping into every capillary like I was a sponge. It felt good, unsurprisingly to me (though that may be surprising to you). I felt ready.

The last meet was big, full of schools. I'd just learned from my dad (either that day, or just before some other race in the past week or two) that the "strides," or short almost-sprints you do a few minutes before a race, are actually important -- they prime your body for that first 100-meter dash where you stake your position for the next mile. If you don't do your strides, you'll dip into anaerobic metabolism early, and your legs might be locked up halfway through the race, and that's bye-bye sub-19:00.

I felt like I weighed like nothing. My entire body was a spring. Side note: if you've never put on racing flats/spikes, I encourage you to borrow a pair for a short run (and I mean short! Like 100 meters if you don't run, and a mile or two if you do run). It feels like there's a weightless force field on your foot, with how light it is compared to a normal shoe. It's a surreal feeling.

When we started the race, I felt a touch desperate. I ran only a little slower than my best; you're supposed to hold yourself back for the first mile. I knew that, but I glanced at my watch to see that I was averaging a 5:00/mile pace. That was WAY beyond my target pace, and I barely even noticed. That was heartening to see, but I obviously dialed the pace way, way back to 5:45/mile or something. I needed this record-breaking adrenaline to last me for three miles, not half of one.

Frankly, all I remember of that race was that first 200-meter dash and the disconnect between what I felt and what I saw on my watch. I always have that disconnect during a race, but it was especially pronounced during this race.

The next two miles were hard but good, and I broke 19. I got a massive personal record (PR) to end my high school career with; I think it was more than a minute of improved time. Which is rather insane. Improvement tends to be more incremental than that, but things like this do happen pretty often in running, especially at the relatively slow paces I ran at.

My brother broke 19 and 18 in the same race. Just skipped right over the whole 18-minutes-something-seconds window. I was over the moon for him, of course. We'd both made it past the lettering-qualification by the skin of our teeth, and at the same time, by a huge margin.

He's kept up with consistent running more than I have. He's also gotten me back into running after I semi-gave up on it, and our older brother's gotten back into running too. We, along with our dad, decided to run a marathon/half-marathon together this summer. I'd say we all did well, though I didn't train as much for it as I should have.

I've only ran one marathon so far, and it was recent, but now I'm feeling the itch. I want to run another one, I want to absolutely demolish my time. Admittedly, this is partially because I didn't practice as much as I should have, and I've seen my brothers' times, so I know how much farther I can go.

If you've come close to your (previous) best at something, you might have realized too that it was only a false summit. Could be a project within your hobby, could be a physical accomplishment, it could be anything that requires some level of effort large or small. But I hope, when you realized you could do even better than you just did, that it felt inspiring.

It's kind of a rush.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

A Vampire Friend

Summary: You were supposed to be hunting the Cullen Clan one by one./ But yet, meeting one of the more vigorous offspring might have changed your mind.

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 700ish

Read on A03!

The forest air was thick with the smell of pine, cold and sharp in your lungs as you crouched low behind the underbrush. Night had fallen hours ago, and you’d been tracking your target relentlessly. Your heartbeat thumped loudly in your ears, but your breathing stayed even. You’d done this a thousand times before — facing the unknown, facing creatures of the night. But you never expected this moment to feel so… strange.

And it didn’t help that your target wasn’t just any vampire. He was Emmett Cullen.

"You’re the vampire slayer I’ve been hearing about."

His voice sent a chill up your spine, low and amused, cutting through the silence. You hadn’t noticed him until now, suddenly standing not five feet from you, as if he’d materialized from the very shadows.

Your hand flew instinctively to your belt, grasping the hilt of your wooden stake. It wouldn't do much against his kind — the Cullens were different. But old habits died hard.

"Am I that famous?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. You stood, bracing yourself for whatever came next.

Emmett smiled, and in the dim light filtering through the treetops, his pale skin glowed unnaturally. His eyes, golden and bright, fixed on yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. But you didn’t. You held his gaze, unwavering.

"More like infamous." He tilted his head, taking a step closer. "Word travels fast among our kind, especially when someone like you is involved."

You tightened your grip on the stake, even though you knew it was probably useless. The Cullens weren’t the typical vampires you hunted. They didn’t feed on humans, didn’t lurk in the shadows waiting for prey. But a vampire was still a vampire, and you couldn’t afford to forget that.

"Why are you here, Emmett?" you asked, your voice more curious than accusatory. You hadn’t expected a confrontation tonight, let alone with the one Cullen you were hunting.

Emmett shrugged, crossing his arms. "I was curious. Wanted to meet the famous slayer myself. See what all the fuss was about."

"Is that right?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "And what do you think now?"

He took another step, his smile widening. His expression was playful, far from the lethal, dangerous vampires you were used to. Still, you weren’t about to let your guard down.

"I think," Emmett began, his eyes scanning you with amusement, "that you’re a lot shorter than I expected."

You blinked, caught off guard. That was… not what you’d expected.

"Excuse me?" you asked, incredulous, lowering your stake slightly.

Emmett laughed, a booming, genuine sound that echoed through the trees. "What? I thought vampire slayers were supposed to be, I don't know, taller? More intimidating? Dirty? Gritty?"

You couldn't help the smirk that tugged at your lips. "Guess I let my reputation do the talking."

He shrugged again, still smiling. "Well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, slayer. Stake me." He spread his arms wide in mock surrender.

You knew he was teasing, but something about his nonchalance put you at ease. Maybe it was the fact that, unlike the others you'd faced, Emmett didn’t radiate malice or bloodlust. He was calm, almost annoyingly so.

"Yeah, that’s not happening," you muttered, sliding the stake back into your belt. Emmett raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? Losing your nerve already?"

You shook your head. "No. I just don’t kill vampires who don’t kill humans. You’re off the hook...for now."

He grinned again, this time more genuinely. "Good to know." There was a pause before he added, "We could use someone like you, you know."

"Excuse me?"

Emmett stepped closer again, his expression suddenly more serious. "You’re good at what you do. We’ve heard the stories. But you’re wasting your talents hunting low-level threats. There’s more out there. Bigger things. Things that threaten us all."

You frowned. "And you want me to what? Join you?"

"Maybe." He tilted his head. "Or maybe we could help each other. You’d have backup, someone to watch your back when things get messy."

You hesitated, weighing his words. Emmett Cullen — the vampire you’d been hunting — was offering you a truce. An alliance.

And despite yourself, you were considering it.

"Think about it," he added, stepping back, his grin returning. "We’re not all bad."

With that, he turned, disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone, your mind racing.

Maybe Emmett Cullen was right.

[writers-potion]

Have you done any posts on lying and liars? I'm looking for ways to indicate that someone is not trustworthy, without being too outright

Crafting (Subtly) Untrustworthy Characters

Hey thanks for the question! Please look at my previous post about writing liars reliably. This will be a follow-up post to the liars posting.

Get In the Head of the Character Being Cheated

Oftentimes, the signs of untrustworthiness may be clear to an onlooker, but not to the victim. This is also the reason why victims of fraud blame themselves and experience lowered self-esteem after realizing they've been cheated on.

On stepping a little away from the situation and looking back, all the red flags may be obvious. What makes a liar convincing is their ability to confound/emotionally overwhelm their victim so that they aren't able to think rationally on the spot. You can reasonably sort through a situation when you're given time to sit down and think for a day - when you're being pushed to make an important decision with high stakes within 2 minutes? Probably not.

You can get away with describing obvious signs of untrustworthiness, but framing them from the POV of the victim who is too scared/tired/intimidated to think properly.

A character who is young, with limited people experience, won't be able to pick up on the signs even though they're right in front of them.

So the goal here is to place the right signs there, with enough emotional/atmospheric fluff that prevents your victim from being perceptive.

Signs of Untrustworthiness

Making little changes in what they've said. Rather than going back on their promises fully, they make smaller changes, e.g. "actually, I'm only available on Tuesday after 9pm, not Monday."

They don't own up to their mistakes. There's always a good reason for their wrongdoings. Always.

They bring up emotionally uncomfortable topics to make the other feel guilty when they want to push for something they want.

They talk a lot about how they are loving/kind, but when you actually ask them for something, they back out.

"It's going to be different next time."

They say they have a strict moral code/discipline, but keep bending them, making excuses as to how the "circumstances are different" and "just this time."

If someone wants to cheat you, they'll try to make you feel special, saying things like, "you're the only one" or "who else can I ask for this?"

They accuse you of being untrustworthy.

"Future faking" where they act like the things they promised are just within your reach, but they're just deceptions.

They get into the victim/martyr mode when you try to place blame on them.

They use half-truths, leaving out the most important parts of the information to cloud your judgement.

They treat you like a king/queen when you're with other people, but cut you down when you're alone. This can also work vice versa.

Hope this helps! Happy writing :)

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[maximumqueer]

In lieu of the second season of OPLA starting production, I want to talk about my mixed feelings on the first season of it.

Because I got into the anime and manga through the live action. So I will always like it at least a little bit for introducing me to honestly my favorite piece of media ever. But now that I'm caught up with the anime and manga, and know the characters and story better, I find myself having more criticisms of it.

The overall narrative is rushed in a way that leads to important character moments being glossed over. Syrup Village in OPLA is a good example. Usopp does a lot less in the live action, most of his big emotional beats cut for what I can only assume were time constraints. Reducing Gin's role to a one time appearance, and the Don Krieg Pirates to a cameo also feels like a product of the limited runtime, and cheapens Sanji's reasoning joining the crew, as we never get that moment where Luffy witnesses him feeding a starving man, and decides then that Sanji will be is cook. Replacing it instead with Luffy seeing him fight and tasting his food. Which in my opinion kinda misses the point of why Luffy wanted him to join. And that was because of Sanji's kindness, which is not nearly as present in the live action.

OPLA also removes a lot of side characters from the islands the main cast visit, making the world feel smaller, and the stakes lower. Like, the reason I personally cared so much about Luffy and Co. helping out places like Orange Town, Syrup village, Cocoyashi Village, is the people that live there who we get to know (in the anime and manga). I feel far more invested actually knowing the names of several of the people and the village, and knowing that their lives will be better after the big bad is taken down. It's not just a fight for the sake of having a fight, but a fight to help out a group of people who need it.

These characters also end up trying to free themselves from the big bad. Them playing an active roll, and not just being used as hostages (like they were in the live action) is just so quintessential to One Piece in my opinion. Having characters native to the island already willing to stand up to the force controlling them, and Luffy's involvement being to aid them, and not just swoop in a save a group of passive bystanders who were simply waiting for a hero to save them, is subversive for shonen (hell just fantasy in general) and having the live action remove that just feels wrong, as characters having freedom and agency is a big overarching theme in One Piece that has been there since day one.

Then there is the characterization. Zoro is probably the most egregious change. Zoro (bur especially pre-ts Zoro) was far goofier than his live action counterpart. And I do think that that level of goofiness is essential to him as a character. Like, I cannot picture OPLA Zoro attempting to cut off his feet, fail, and then decide to strike a cool pose while he is slowly turning into a wax statue. I cannot picture that version of the character beefing with a bird while lost, when said bird is LITERALLY a compass. OPLA Zoro just feels like your stereotypical stoic cool guy, when he is very much not. He is a bit of a loser (affectionate) and to see him be treated like he isn't feels off. Nami and Sanji are closer to their anime/manga counterparts, but are still different.

OPLA Sanji is not pathetic enough. To use an analogy, OLPA Sanji would take off his coat to place it over a puddle so a pretty woman didn't have to get her shoes and feet wet. Anime/manga Sanji would hurl his body onto the ground, and have the woman use his back to prevent getting her shoes and feet wet. They said this change was to dial down the more pervy parts of his character, which is fair. But that aspect of his character only really starts up in a bad way in Thriller Bark. The part of the series that adapted was when Sanji was pretty much only presented as a hopeless romantic who worships the ground all women walk on and would do anything a woman asked of him.

Nami is similar to Zoro, in that she is just to serious. They both lack the whimsy their anime/manga counterparts have. And she just feels a bit more one dimensional in the live action because of it.

As for Luffy. Him referring to himself as a "good pirate" just feels all sorts of wrong. He has never shied away from that label, and never has had any issue with being lumped in with "bad" pirates in the anime/manga. He never was angry about being framed for crimes, but I get the feeling that OPLA Luffy would be more likely to be angry about that, because he is a "good" pirate. This Luffy doesn't feel like he would go on a rant about not wanting to be viewed as a hero. They also made him nicer overall, and this sounds like a weird thing to complain about, but Luffy not holding his tongue and just telling people how he feels about them, positive or negative, is what makes him as a character work. Is what separates him from a typical run of the mill shonen protag. Him being a kind, but not nice and overall blunt in conversation is pretty integral to his character, and I can't help but feel that the writers and directors of the live action were afraid of keeping this character trait because it could make him unlikeable. (despite that fact that he as been #1 in literally every One Piece popularity poll)

And obviously this is not a critique on the actors, I think they did a phenomenal job portraying their respective characters. This is more about how the writers/directors/producers decided to adapt and change the characters.

I kind of suspected that when I watched the anime (a more one to one adaptation of the manga) as well as read the manga (the source material) that I would end up having more issues with the live action. I do still like it for what it is, and I'm planning on watching the second season when it comes out, I just wanted to share how my opinion on it changed after reading/watching and catching up with the anime and manga.

[limolib]

05/The Pawn.

7th floor x female reader (the 8 show)

Masterlist

WC:7.5K. specific chapter warnings: Violence starvation etc, etc (it's that evil episode)

(:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

His eyes slowly opened to some lazy strumming and a pounding headache. Judging be the things hanging from the ceiling, he was not in his room. The source of the irritating sound was a tall, blurry man sat in front of him on a chair. With all the energy he could muster up, he pushed himself to sit as he tried to recall how he got here. A moving figure in the far corner of the room, 8th floor he’d assume, sat in that obnoxious bathtub, grooming herself. 

“What happened?” He groaned.

“Isn’t it obvious? You got caught.” 6th replied. 

Oh yes, the king’s game. 

What a mess. He shut his eyes and sighed, breathing it all in. 

He tried to think of a thousand different reasons they’d keep him here, why they had held him…hostage? He wasn’t actually sure of anything at the moment. A hand from his right pressed something into his temple, and he winced as the burn set in. He glanced over to the final team member, 4th floor.

“I know you helped them to be on equal footing with us, but that’s boring. No one would watch,” He continued plucking at the strings.  “It needs to pack a punch.”

“You know how the system here is. It’s designed to keep the higher floors in charge of the lower floors, so why would you go and side with them and mess that up,” He stated plainly “What are you? Some kind of limousine liberal?” 

The only thing he could do was stare at the bruised man’s face, an attempt to read where he was going with this. 

“We’re gonna make them a lot of money, they’ll thank us in the end.”

8th floor had put together a compilation of games, regular games, but with higher stakes and harsh penalties. 6th floor was in charge of said stakes and penalties; most games involving him directly hurting the participants. He was also the one to come up with the winner’s ‘reward’, hurting others. A layer of psychological torment to go hand in hand with the physicals of it all. They also had a plan of stripping the others of all purchasing power, breaking the phone in all the rooms and locking the main one in the square. When both of them were done explaining their twisted desires, they looked at him, as if waiting for him to speak. To find a flaw in their plan perhaps. To be fair, had there been one, he would’ve probably let it slip, giving the other floors the chance of an out. But there wasn’t, he knew 8th floor was not an easy mind to look past, plus she spent a full 3 days thinking this up. There was nothing he could do. From this position, the bad side, he could at least try to figure out a way to ruin the plan from the inside. If he chooses to play the hero now, he’d be worthless. That was the main reason he was getting on board with this, anyway. Maybe the smaller, more selfish part of him, saw this as a them or me, and he really wasn’t someone who could take that kind of pain. He thought of you, eyes fixed on the fuzzy carpet, he thought of how you’d take this. You two were just starting to get comfortable, partly his fault, and now you’ll likely never want to speak to him again. 

He should’ve kissed you when he still had that chance. 

He gave them a short nod, eyes unable to meet theirs. 

“You need to contribute, too.” 8th hummed.

“What?” he breathed out.

“You need to come up with something we could add to make it worse, call it a guarantee. That way; your hands are just as bloody as ours.” She clarified. 

The realisation of what she was asking dawned on him.

 Bloody. What a vile word. 

He spent the better part of the afternoon trying to come up with a weak addition, something that could be used as an out and at the same time seem cruel enough. But of course, 8th floor always saw right through him, pointing out the stupidity of his suggestions over and over again. He’d never felt so helpless, so defeated. Bested at his own battle of wits. He should’ve been harsher, lied at the vote count, turned the other eye with 4th, but he knows deep down it would’ve only delayed the inevitable. 

6th floor left to execute phase one of the plan, the chute phone situation, leaving him and the other 2 women alone in the room. 8th eyed him, almost seductively. 

“I like you 7th,” she leaned down infront of him, dropping her head to meet him eye to eye. She batted her eyes a few times at him, unsatisfied with his lack of reply. 

“You and 5th…” She gave him a sympathetic look, had he not known better, he’d think she meant it. “What would she think, seeing you on our side.” 

It was at that he realised, this was a punishment for him, too. 

. . .

Worry had taken up the better part of your day, as you sat on the swingset facing the doors, hoping for any sign of him. A few hours earlier; 6th floor had made his way to the main chute when no one was paying attention and locked the phone there in a cage. He also bought himself a baseball bat and used it to batter your personal phones. So that’s where you knew him from. You were now entirely helpless, unable to buy anything to defend yourselves from whatever was to come. But your mind only stayed on 7th. Why the hell were they keeping him there, what were they doing to him? You recalled the way a little of his blood dripped down his face and hoped he didn’t see that for himself. That’s all you had, just hope. Time kept going up but you were none the wiser as to why. The mystery of it all was eating away at you. No food was delivered to quench your hunger. So you sat, and waited. 

The other floors filtered back down, joining you around the swingset. You discussed theories as to what could be happening, arriving at absolutely nothing. 

“I just feel bad for 7th, he was making sure we all do well. What the hell could they want with an unconscious man” you sighed.

“Maybe to get him on their side, with the chute and all, it would be difficult with him in the middle.” 1st suggested, and that actually made alot of sense. 

“If that’s the case, that’s awful. He was the smartest of us” 3rd groveled, you gave him a look.

“Hey! I’m pretty smart.” 2nd replied and you shot her a smile. 

It was almost 8pm now, around six hours since you last saw him. You were beginning to lose patience and considered calling it in for the night, when the door to 8th floor opened and they all came out. 

Something was wrong though, 6th had his arm around 7th, a little too friendly for two people who really weren’t that close. It filled you with unease. 

“7th floor, are you feeling ok?” 3rd stuttered.

“I’m going to announce how things will be from now on.” He kept his eyes straight, avoiding everyone’s questioning gazes. “We currently have 160 hours left. From now until the agreed upon end date, you will have to earn time, just as before, your goal will be 24 hours each day.”

“What do you mean your goal” you had your eyes fixed on him, looking for anything in his face to indicate- well…anything. He kept his expression rigidly neutral, no remorse, no shame, nothing. His lip was swollen from the excitement from earlier and you wanted nothing more than to kiss it better, but the current circumstances clearly would not allow something like that. “Aren’t we supposed to be doing this together?” Your voice shook a little. 8th giggled at that, hair put up in a nice ponytail to match her new outfit. 

“Are you making us earn time while you guys weasel out?” 2nd challenge. 

3rd tried to defend 7th in face of 2nd’s accusations but 7th was not denying anything, in fact, he went on to say;

“You can refuse if you want to, but meals won’t be provided”

“We’ll die, the show will end!” 3rd pleaded.

“No, we will not let you starve.”

That simple, to him, it was all that simple. It bothered you, how he could play both sides with no repercussions, marching around like he owns the place. 

They moved through your little group to get to the chute and begin the fun. It hadn’t all set in yet, this whole predicament, you kept your eyes on him hoping that maybe, he’ll slip up. 

7th called 3rd up to have the pick of the first game, hide and seek. But we had to pick a body part for some reason and you stupidly picked legs, though most of you were at a disadvantage here; 1st needing his hands for balance, 2nd being unable to see and you unable to walk. It was already clear who the winner will be. You tried to give it your best as they counted down to when they’ll seek, hopping as far as you can. You though maybe if you could just get to the stairwell. But alas, all too late. 6th had already begun seeking and determination was replace with dread, fear. He was not using his bat, but an object that clearly went with the rest of the kit they divided. It had sharp metal on the end and you shuddered, frozen in your spot as you witnessed him catch 1st floor. He found you next, but you’d given up on hiding a while ago, choosing to save whatevers left of your dignity. He approached you with a huge smile on his face, 8th trailing closely behind but her eyes were looking for other victims. 

“Go on, run.” He laughed. You said nothing. His favorite target was still roaming around and he’d clearly prefer to have his fun with 2nd rather than you. So with a roll of his eyes he swung the thing across your face, leaving blood in it’s wake, then twice more for good measure, knocking you down. He turned towards 2nd and embarked on what will probably be his favorite part of the night, leaving you where you were, some blood on your cheek. With her though, he was relentless, abandoning the tool in favor of his own fists with no intention of stopping. Had it not been for 7th pulling him off of her, you would guess he would’ve went all the way. What a knight in shining armour. 

Your head was wrapped tightly with some tape, compressing bruises and cuts on various areas of your face and only allowing very little area to breathe. 3rd mumbled apologies through the gag, you wished he’d just get it over with. This was the ultimate reward; less pain. And so he spun, 10 spins, and then swung. You braced for impact that never came, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it was, considering 1st was on your right. 

“Breathe! Breathe! He can’t breathe!” You panicked a little at 3rd’s voice next to you, hands struggling with the tape on your face after 4th undid your hands. You rushed over to 1st’s aid, getting the remaining tape off him and checking his pupils using a ray of light from the ceiling. He was fine, a little shaken up from the blow but only surface injuries. You were still at 1st’s sides when 7th spoke up again. 

“26 hours from the first game is very impressive. You get one coin for every 3 hours, but as a token of gratitude, we will reward you with 9 coins. Now, please write the number of coins you want to receive on paper, if the total exceeds 9, then we will take all the coins back.”

You turned your head slowly to him. Realisation slowly dawning on you. 

“So if the number is more than nine, we leave empty handed?” 1st stuttered, clutching his head.

“Yes, and you are forbidden from discussing this.”

The others turned to look at eachother, perhaps in an attempt to signal a plan. 

“He’s pretty smart isn’t he?” 6th plopped down next to a smiley 8th.

That’s what hit the nail on its head.

Up until this very moment, you held your breath and gave him the benefit of the doubt. You believed that they must’ve had him under some sort of awful threat, leaving him no choice but to do this. But the money thing? Group punishment and individual reward is something none of those airheads could put together. What kind of captors allow their hostages a hand in the fun? 

He came up with this. 

“This is you…” you kept your eyes trained on him as you rose slowly, several pairs of eyes watching you with curiosity, and one of them in heavy amusement. 

“You traitor, this is you!” His gaze only found yours for a split second, but he intentionally kept it empty and unassuming, fixing his eyes back onto the distance. You made your way to him in pure unfiltered anger. 

“None of those morons could come up with this you motherf-” you were at the bottom of the stairs, only a step or two away from him when 6th put the bat at your throat, forcing you to stop. 

“That’s no way to speak to your superior.” he gave a very hardened expression. 

“My superior? Oh get your head outta your a-” 

“Watch it.” He pushed you back to place himself between you and 7th floor, was he actually protecting him?

“I’m not afraid of you.” You scoffed at 6th, eyes boring into his. 

He didn’t take you seriously, instead, he laughed. And without turning back he said;

“I can see why you like her 7th, such an entertaining thing she is.” He moved his hand to cup your cheek and you immediately swatted it away, angering him, landing you a rough kick back into the pool. You hit your head in whiplash pretty hard as you watched him sauter away back to 8th. 

And dear old 7th floor? Still had his body unmoved from his position, not even sparing you a look of sympathy.

You sat in your room later that night, feeling so empty and played as you waited for the delivery of 1 meal and 1 water. Not enough calories for the effort you’re giving, that’s for sure. Tears that had collected at the corner of your eye were now flowing freely down your face. 

How could you be so, so stupid. So blind. Was this the man that 2nd floor saw? No, even she had began liking him. Had he been living a lie with you that whole time? Keeping himself busy until he moved on to the next interesting thing? Were any of the moments you two shared sincere? Was it all just games within games? 

The croak of the chute cut your train of thought off, opening to show 3 meals and 4 water bottles. You had wondered how they’d deliver each individual meal, seeing as taking them room to room was impossible. This sucked though. You’re going to have to consciously make the decision of taking a meal and a water knowing that 3rd, who used his brain a tad bit more than needed, will have to actively make the decision of just grabbing a water. You hesitated, he did just have the best interest of the group in mind, hurting only himself in the process. Leaving him your meal would be kind. But on the other hand, your stomach was growling, head pounding from the beatings you took earlier. 3rd had won, making the tally of times he got hit today a whopping zero. But its not like you mean to sound like you’re punishing him for winning…Maybe you’re overthinking this. 

“Hurry up!” 4th floor pounded on your door, leading you to just take the decision of taking your share and moving on. You gave a quick look-over the meals, two chicken, one shrimp. Was that for you? You grabbed it anyway, deciding to mull it over when 4th was gone. 

Logically, it would more likely be just a coincidence. But what if he purposefully. 

What the hell are you smoking. This is not him, the beef probably just looked better today. Plus, even it it were him, what difference does it make? He’s still a lying piece of crap and a meal won’t fix that. 

Plus you’re done thinking so highly of him. 7th floor. You should have guessed. 

. . .

He couldn’t get any sleep, clothes folded neatly at the bedside as he lied uder the cover. The higher rooms are warmer than the lower ones, that’s why he is able to sleep like this so comfortably, the blanket helps too. His mind wouldn’t quieten as guilt and shame weighed heavy on his heart. He knew, in no way was he a victim here. In fact, he could’ve joined you, stood at your side while you tried to figure a way out, together.

But he didn’t. 

Because he’s a coward.

 He had taken very little risks up until this moment and, old habits die hard. The one real risk he’s ever taken was backed by his parents’ exorbitant amount of money, protecting him from any actual harm. There’s a reason why everything in his room was straightened out. A reason why his uniform seemed more pristine than everyone else’s, even if he was the only one to notice. He reveled in routine, continuity. He wasn’t the type of man to venture out to try new things. As pathetic as it sounds, you were the break from his ordinary. Bursting in with spontaneity and unpredictableness. Even if he was just referring to your constant boredom with his favourite games. You’d even unknowingly got him to start drawing again, even if it was primitive sketches. But he had no right. No right at all to be missing you in this moment, when he put a wall between you with his own two hands. And he doubts you’re missing him right now. Actually you’ve probably cussed out his entire bloodline, 3rd too. He had tried to apologise, in his own way, by hiding that meal so that he could send it to you. Now that he says it back to himself, he just feels stupid, pathetic actually. He tries to remind himself that, at the end of the day, you’re all here for money, and you’re not leaving empty handed so maybe you could look past this?

How selfish. How selfish of him to anticipate your forgiveness when he couldn’t even spare you a glance of sympathy, the mouthing of I’m sorry. Truth is, he felt if he’d met your eyes for too long his composure might break. And…And nothing, it would’ve definitely been entertaining for the upper floors, the audience too. But he didn’t want to appear like that, that’s the best reasoning he could rationalise to himself. He tried to even his breathing, willing himself into dreams where you still sat by him at the chess set, making up moves as you go. 

The following day’s draw had you playing 20 questions. He sat on the playset by 6th floor, encouraging 8th to start. His eyes naturally went to you, as he’d been accustomed to for the past month or so. You had your head held down in defeat, tilted slightly to the side of your hurt cheek. It was swollen, so was the area around your eyes. You’d been crying, he felt dizzy. Today, you had chosen not to look for his eyes it seems, and he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or upset. On one hand, he wouldn’t have to run away from your looks anymore, granting him relief from last night. But on the other, knowing you, it meant that you’d given up on him, accepted him for what he is; a traitor, in every sense of the word. 

2nd guessed the answer to the supid game, crowning her as executioner. It hit 3rd, and again, you rushed to his aid as soon as your restraints were undone. 4th had learned to untie you first, seeing as you were the most useful, at least that’s what he would assume anyway. 3rd had passed out, maybe because 2nd was the one swinging, and he watched from his spot as you all carried the unconscious man up to his room. 

. . .

You were stuck in this cycle for almost a week, stupid games with sick twists and then spinning. So much spinning. 

You screamed a little when the bat collided with the side of your head, a string of apologies spilling from 1st floor’s mouth as you tried to avoid inhaling your own blood. It was scary, terrifying even, the feeling of suffocation with no ability to save yourself. He rushed to take the constraints off your face, allowing you reprieve. You wheezed and coughed up some of the blood that managed to slip into your larynx, drops of it contrasting the white of your pants. You grabbed your chest in desperation, hoping your body will regulate things soon. 

You put down the same number of coins you always do, but someone had other plans, you were now one above the limit, meaning…

“You get no coins today, if you have any coins left, you could use them. But if you don’t. I guess you’ll have a slightly tougher day.” He stated as if it were so manageable. 

“A slightly tougher day?” You challenged. 

Easy for him to say, he’s been stuffing his mouth and keeping his thirst quenched, sleeping soundly in no fear of what’s to come the next morning. You’d grown to become repulsed by him. Every word, every look, every move he made had you gagging. A slightly tougher day, this was not salt in an open wound, this was hot sauce. He was enjoying this, or else he would’ve kept his revolting mouth shut and took orders like a good boy. 

“You can all return to your rooms now.” He half ordered. 

But no one moved.

“Cmon, off you go,” 6th swung his bat around, making a point to try and intimidate you. 

But still, no one moved. 

“They can’t do anything if we hold here, no one go anywhere,” There was a little bit of venom in 1st’s words.

“Come to think of it, you’ve all been working hard this last week with no break, you’re bound to get angry. So, as a token of gratitude, the first person to return to their room will get one coin.” 7th floor offered.

“I’ll do you one better,” you mocked him. “Shove it up your ass.” At that he sighed, turning his head away from the group. 

“All ten coins, one minute to decide.” 6th ran up to 7th floor’s side with a better bargain. 

You were not weak, not stupid, not hungry enough to fall for a ploy like this. You were also smart enough to know that this will be the most united you’ve ever been without prior planning. Just pure, unadulterated hatred. But you chose to have some foresight this time around. If you hold here, keep the challenge, it would only end with that bloodied bat to each of your faces. Then what would’ve you gained? Making a statement? 

You all possessed no power nor capacity to fight back. So you thought of something else and hoped the other floors will forgive you for the coming next few hours. Walking up to 6th’s hand was worse than any punishment you had that week. Admitting debility, feigning submission as someone who would’ve been the first to revolt was torture, so you hoped it would work out the way you wanted it to at the end.

Knock, Knock, Knock. You knew she’d be the hardest to convince, so you left her for last. No answer. You shouldn’t’ve indicated that it was you. 

Knock, Knock, Knock. 

“2nd, please open up” you whispered at her door. “I know you’re pissed, just please come out.”

You were actualy surprised to hear some shuffling. And then the door creaked open just a little bit, enough for her to bosk you way in.

“What do you want?” She looked at you with disinterest ad some anger. “Did you not already stuff your mouth and-”

“Do you trust me?”

She hesitated. Good, that means theres still a little bit in there. 

“Come with me, I’ll show you what I did with the coins.” Ok that sounded like you bought a weapon or something, which is obviously impossibe since 4th is in charge of purchases. 

You opened up the door to your room to reveal 1st and 3rd sat comfortably on the floor, infront of them; five plates of food and 4 water bottles. They had already began nibbling at the feast. 2nd wasted no time in finding an empty spot to cozy up in. You sat opposite to her, observing her ear to ear smile. 

The food was gobbled up in all of 5 minutes, the shared extra meal really going its work of making everyone just a tad bit less starving. After it was done, you all leaned back a little, soaking up this one happy moment in the middle of darkness. They’d have to be gone soon, the longer they stay here the higher the risk is of getting caught. You thought of just sending the meals to everyone to consume on their own, but 4th being in the way made that impossible. 

“You know where I think I know 6th from?” you broke the silence. “My dad used to watch baseball all the time, I think he used to be like a star player. But they kicked him off, don’t remember why.”

“Explains the bat.” 3rd smiled to himself, though he knew this was no funny matter.

“I think I know 8th floor from somewhere too,” 2nd added. “An art gallery, I think she was the artist. It was very controversial at the time, her pieces, so the gallery was free. But I may be getting her mixed up with someone else, it was a while ago anyway.”

“So they all get a second chance at this money thing while we suffer to get a single shot?” 1st scoffed. 

“Who do you think 7th is then?” 3rd questioned. 

Apparently that was the line crossed, cause it led to everyone's lips seeling shut. Not in thought but something else. Betrayal, anger, hurt, 7th was, at the end of the day, an ally. Or so you thought anyway. 

“We need a revolution.” 1st stated plainly. That got you to sit back up. 

“Did you have something in mind?” The look on his face told you he in fact did.

“On my signal, you guys ride down in the chute to my room the following morning. I’ll cause a commotion to get them to my room. Then we ambush them.” 

“All together against 6th, yeah that could work” 2nd excitedly whispered. 

“What would the signal be?” 3rd added.

“Hmm how about, I ask for something for stomach pain after a game. Then we carry the plan out the next day. But we have to wait till they bore of us, so that they won’t expect it.”

They all nodded to eachother enthusiastically. 

“But…I can’t ride down to you.” you realised. “Never mind, I could attack him from the back or something.”

It was a plan, and what a burst of excitement that night was. You went to sleep with a semi full belly and hope for change. 

. . .

He descended the stairs at the usual meet up time the next morning, finding 3rd and 1st also making their way down. 8th and 6th had been doing things that were best kept private but thankfully stopped, so that the day could go on. 4th joined a few minutes later. So here they were, him and 4th by the main chute, 8th on the merry go round and 6th swinging his bat lazily. 3rd and 1st sat at the pool, waiting for their female counterparts. There was a slight skip to their step that morning, he wondered if anyone else noticed. A few more minutes passed and 2nd sautered towards the group, seems like everyone was in a good mood today. There was a noticeable lack of you though, seeing as you usually stroll in with 2nd. 

“Where’s 5th” he asked.

“She will not be playing today.” 2nd smiled a little and moved to join the others, but 6th stopped her from where he was.

“How come?” 6th question as he moved closer to 2nd slowly. She turned her body to him slightly and shrugged. 

“4th.” 6th stared 2nd down. “What did 5th buy with her coins yesterday?”

“Meals and water.” She answered obediently.

“How many?”

“5 meals and-”

He didn’t let her finish her sentence before he was already storming towards the stairs, grip on the bat turning his knuckles white. 7th understood what you’d done as well, that’s why the others seem to be a little more cheerful. He was frozen in fear, hoping that maybe you bought them for yourself and still have the leftovers in your room. But he knew how unlikely that was. 6th banged on your door harshly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He ought to do something, what the hell can he do? He looked to your partners in crime, perhaps to help 2nd find an out for you, but all of them had horrified expressions fixed onto the sight about to unfold. He couldn't see from here, only listen.

A door opening, a small yelp, some conversation, something hitting a hard surface and a scream. A moment of silence, before 6 yelled again.

He watched as you ran out onto the steps, rushing down for your life. 6th emerged shortly behind you, face red and bat swinging with as much force as he could, but missing time and time again. You made it all the way to where they were, eyes frantically searching for shelter, there were none. He had his hands clasped behind his back, otherwise they’d shake and tremble uncontrollably. His jaw was clenched, teeth grinding onto each other harshly. 6th was hot on your tail, he swung, it missed, and you took the opportunity to run towards the merry-go-round. He chased you around it, over the seesaw and as you ran for the stands. Hopeless, you threw whatever objects you came across at him. There was no use in yelling for help, in begging or asking for forgiveness, and you all knew that. You made it back towards the circle of people again, this time when he swung and missed, it kicked him off his balance and he toppled on top of you, knocking you into the pool. You grunted as your back collided with the harsh floor, the air knocked out of your lungs. He watched as 6th got up from his spot to get the bat back, you tried to desperately crawl away but the fear had gotten the best of you, weakening your legs. 6th panted as he stood over you, swinging the bat down hitting you square in the abdomen, earning a sharp scream from you. He then reached down and grabbed you by the hair, tilting your face to look at the helpless audience. He then laughed, hard, and tossed the bat next to you as he got on top of you. 

You clawed at his hand desperately, which had grabbed your jaw to hold your head still. 

“Go ahead,” 6 chuckled, a crazed look in his eyes. “Beg,”

“Kiss my ass,” you spat at him without a second thought.

6th swung a heavy fist onto your face, colliding with your cheek.

You sputtered out a wave of fresh blood, your eyes had become unfocused.

No good deed goes unpunished.

“Wanna try again?” 6th said through gritted teeth, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here, huh? Since you wanna play hero so bad,” he lifted your head momentarily to slam it back down.

You couldn’t even cry out loud anymore, choking occasionally on the bubbling blood.

“THE GAME,” He then punched again, hitting your eye. You groaned loudly and continued, “The game would end,”

7th felt a pang of fear, what if your reason wasn’t enough? What if he truly intended on taking your life in the most brutal way imaginable. 8th was on the edge of her seat, 4th holding a shaking with anger 2nd back.

“Don’t kill her,” 8th said with a smile, prancing forward as if this was entertaining- as if it was all some kind of game for her. She put a delicate hand on 6th, rubbing his shoulder in a motherly fashion. She leaned into his ear to whisper, “Just make an example out of her,”

He clenched his jaw tightly, looking around to the horrified group. She was right, by keeping you within an inch of your life, he’d be keeping their fear at just that- fear. 

6th nodded, eyes flickering at your constricted eyes, that struggled to focus on anything. With a firm hand, he pushed 8th back gently. Then, his fist contacted your skull, then your jaw, and you were completely silent- at his mercy. He became addicted, hitting again, and again and again. Your face was almost unrecognisable, blood flowing for your nose down your busted lip. There was a gash on your jaw that looked like it needed stitches. 

7th could only watch helplessly. This scene would haunt his nightmares for years to come, and part of him wished it was him instead beneath 6th’s arm. Though in this scenario, he knew deep down you would’ve rushed to try to help.

His feet kept him planted right where he was. 6th slowly got up off you, a victorious laugh echoing through the room. Your yelps of pain had stopped a few punches ago and as he finally got a good view of you, the world stood still. He fixed his eyes onto your torso, counting laboured breaths. Whether you were knocked out or defeated he couldn’t tell. But 6th wasn’t done, he reached for the bat, and swung at your stomach, causing you to curl in on yourself, a hand coming up to block his next hit, which landed on your upper arm. He then moved onto a kick, a process he repeated a few more times before one last satisfactory blow to your head with the bat. He didn’t have to be a doctor to know 6th had just knocked you completely out of consciousness, likely for a while too.

“5th?” 2nd hesitantly stepped towards you but was stopped by 6th’s bat. 

“Did you fill your bellies last night? Huh? Had fun?” his voice got progressively louder, pushing the girl back. “Ate like kings…” he spewed out, clicking his jaw. “HUH?” His loud voice echoed through the walls.

“If any of you EVER, think of pulling a stunt like that again.” He pointed from group member to group member, “You’ll meet a worse fate. Consider this a warning.” He pulled his weapon back, stepping back and casting one final smirk at your pathetic body, then marching over to a very turned on 8th floor. She giggled when he settled next to her. 

Even 4th floor had her eyes on you, scared and unmoving, mouth covered with her shaking hands.

The lower floors rushed towards you, even 1st moved faster than he ever has. 2nd was by your head, trying to clear your airways while 3rd listened to her instructions.

He couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t hear the insults 2nd hurled at him, the panicking comments of 3, or even the celebrations from 6 and 8. There was a loud ringing in his ear, it was deafening, the only thing louder than the buzz were your soft moans of ache, desperate for any form of relief, even in your slumber. How painful is it that you can’t help but weep even when you can’t feel it? 

You were carried up by 2nd and 3rd, 1st following closely behind. They all stayed inside the room 

He sat down on the edge of the pool, gagging slightly at the sight of the blood, dropping his head into his hands. 4th floor sat next to him, hands on her knees, eyes fixated on the mess.

“Your idea was amazing 7th,” 8th said in a chirpy voice, “The coin system was a perfect plan, I mean look at the time! 100 hours from just that!”

“It wasn’t the coin system, it was 6th floor,” he tried to convince mainly himself.

“But if it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t have pulled this stunt anyways. You’re a genius 7th!” 

He stared blankly at the floor, only flinching when 6th patted his shoulder. 8th and 6th disappeared upstairs to her room, likely to celebrate the events that just transpired privately.

This was far worse than when it happened to 2nd, because you were outmatched from the beginning. Sure, you were more agile, more skilled and definitely smarter, but you should’ve thought of this. You shouldn’t have opened the door. Perhaps he could’ve disarmed th6, stolen his taser and beat the man bloody and bruised. But he couldn’t, because he was a coward. He was not a soldier, not a fighter, not even a survivor, he couldn't have heldhis own. But then again, neither could you, yet you still fought, in your own way at least. 

Bloody. Your face was so bloody. He wasn’t sure if he was remembering it worse because of his aversion to blood or because it was you. Either way, you must be in a lot of pain right now. Maybe it was the fact that you were specifically targeted, helpless and pleading, that had bile stuck at the back of his throat till now. He’d seen you get beat up in the games before but this…was different. Every time he’d walk past your room, he’d pause to listen. There were times where you were quiet and he feared you’d died, other times where your quiet sobs pierced the chill air. He couldn’t decide which was worse to hear. He felt awful, what could he do for you now? Nothing, he knew that much. He considered trying to send something down to you to ease the pain but 6th was in 8th’s room at the moment, not that he could explain that to him anyway. So here he was. Mere hours later. Standing at your door pathetically empty handed. Tears in his eyes, as if they meant anything. These were tears of guilt. Shame. He knew, logically, the chance of you opening your door was slim to none, especially if you knew it was him. You’re probably passed out from pain right now and he’d be intruding on your moment of relief. He was being selfish, again. But he couldn’t help himself when it came to you. So he did the only thing he knew would get you to open up. 

Knock, knock, knock. Three short knocks. And sure enough, you stumbled to the door and unlocked it, not bothering to check who it was before collapsing onto the floor again, leaving your back to him. You used your hands to support yourself against the ground. He shivered at the dried up blood around your room. How sad is it that the one person that could’ve helped you recover was yourself, and you were in no state to do so. His eyes lingered at the bandages, unused, but stained with blood. He saw the evidence of your crime in the corner, stacked neatly on top of each other. If he didn’t say anything soon, it would be weird. 

“I’m fine, 2nd, just a little tired. And thirsty.” You croaked, voice weak. There was a short sniffle at the end of your sentence. He felt his heart shatter. He hadn’t even considered that they didn’t send you food that day. If he could just get you up to his room…

“I mean it, I’m-” You turned slowly, clearly expecting someone else, caught off guard by who your eyes saw instead. Your breaths got louder, anger threatening to spill over. 

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Get. Out.”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated a bit louder.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you here?” Your voice shook, tears glimmering slightly under the low lighting. 

“I…don’t know.”

“You come to finish me off?” 

“You know I would never-”

“I don’t know anything actually. Get lost.”

He took a step forward, only stopped by your tossing of an empty box at him. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen 5th I-”

“What did they offer you?”

“Nothing I-”

“Went willingly?”

“No!”

His eyes met yours for the first time since forever, and not for a split second either, you two held each other's gaze. Teary eyes to teary eyes. Yours were pleading with him a little, to say the right thing, change my opinion of you, let me trust you again. He had nothing to offer, No sound explanation, no noble reason nor anticipatory foresight. He thought back to himself, why did he just show up. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Your expression turned blankly exhausted, coupled with a slight scoff.

“Well I’m swell, thank you for your concern.”

The silence that followed made him nervous. He opened his mouth and closed it multiple times, trying to wrack his brain to find a way to properly articulate his words.

“I want to sleep.” At his hesitation, you turned around to face the wall on the bed, giving him your back. He had nothing to say then, nothing to make it better. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

He didn’t respond, only dropped his head and walked out of the room. There was a heaviness in the air that threatened to suffocate him with every step away from your room. He didn’t deserve to be forgiven, or heard, or even acknowledged, he’d once again opted for safety not humanity. While you suffered with little meals and still had the ability to share, he ate comfortably with first pick in 8th’s room. 

. . .

The days went by in a blur as you limped daily to every new game. You didn’t have the facilities to check if something was broken, but if you had to guess. There was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm in the group, the only hope now being 1st’s plan. But after what happened, there was always the what if? What if it all went wrong and someone else met your fate once more? You lost the ability to speak, though there was nothing to say, you shuffled your feet from one game to the next, finding little to no energy to compete, put an effort in. You hadn’t been sleeping either, your mind too afraid to doze off lest you wake up back under 6th grip again. There was no talk of the revolution again, the excitement you starred in making the higher floors a little more on edge. 7th had attempted to speak to you again but it was futile, you wouldn’t even speak to 2nd. He now always watched you with sad eyes, remorse that you were not willing to accept from him. The days just seemed to drag on, but that was good, relatively, it meant that they were getting bored. 

“It’s that prick 7th floor that kept this game so brutal.” 2nd whispered

7th floor had signaled something to 3rd on the stairs that day, clearly showing him that he knows of the plan. How he got the information is truly beyond you, considering you’ve only ever discussed it once. 

“What do you think, 5th?” she looked down to your position on the steps.

“I think…we’ve got nothing more to lose”

The next day, 1st gave the signal, and you could feel your heart almost thumping out of your chest. Your injuries had gotten better, leaving only scars and bruises as a reminder, your side still hurt though, might be a fractured rib. 

You descended the steps a few paces before the higher floors, granted 6 overtook you relatively quick due to your slowed movements. 7 slowed to your pace, you paid him no mind though, desperately hoping the plan would work. Finally at 1st floor’s room,

Time stood still as a, once again victorious 6th marched over to his little girlfriend to grab the taser. You were by 7th’s side, your injury rendering you useless and a liability in a fight like that. Defeated once more, and now, you didn’t even want to think of the consequences about to be conjured up. 

“Hit him” 7th said from next to you, you turned to him in confusion. 

“Hit him!” he repeated, louder this time, meant for 2nd floor. The taser in 6th’s hand clicked but nothing came out, giving 2nd way to knock the man out. 

“My hand’s a lot better now, asshole.”

[sambi-bambi]

sammy helping big brother with his fear of flying

PAIRING: sam winchester/dean winchester WORD COUNT: 1,053 CONTENT WARNING: wincest (SMUT!)

finding out dean was afraid of flying was... hilarious. he felt a little bad about it, but it was honest-to-god hilarious. watching the way dean forced himself to take deep breaths as he settled into the seat beside him—seats he complained were much too compressed—was amusing.

it was all amusing. and, well, a little sad. dean, at his big age, scared of a little flight? soon, watching him became less funny. the way every muscle in his body was tensed like he was prepared for a fight. the way his eyes were either screwed shut or restlessly darting around the entirety of the cabin. the way his hands nervously smoothed sweaty palms against the thighs of his jeans over and over and over again.

sam was concerned. how were they supposed to investigate this case if dean was terrified (and poorly hiding it)? this was high stakes. this could seriously go awry if dean wasn't focusing, or at least calm enough to think straight.

it seemed to get a lot worse as soon as the lights in the cabin dimmed down (because it was a night flight), dean's head pushing back against the headrest of the seat.

"hey, dude, seriously," sam said quietly, craning his head slightly to speak closer to dean's ear. "take deep breaths. it's gonna be fine."

dean scoffed at him, sparing a moment of open-eyes to shoot a disbelieving glance at sam. "right. yeah. getting on a flight where some black-eyed freak is trying to crash the plane—"

"shh, shh!" he replied quickly, knocking an elbow into dean's ribs.

it turned into a brief thing consisting of shoving and hushed insults and clothes rustling before the person behind them told them to quit. so they both huffed and settled back into their seats, slumping down with frowns pulling at both their lips.

still, sam couldn't shake the worry stirring in his gut. he couldn't shake the need to do something to help. so when he heard most of the passengers go quiet, probably headphones in, reading, or napping, he leaned close to whisper again. "dean?"

"what?" he grunted, taking the offered blanket from the flight attendant and pulling it over himself, sinking into it.

he scooted to the far edge of his seat, as close to dean as he could get, slowly pushing up the armrest between them. "i can help you relax, if you let me."

a hand slipped under the edge of the blanket, setting on dean's thigh. "sammy," dean hissed, eyes blowing wide. "what the hell'r you doing?" and despite the words typically being spoken in protest, dean made no move to take that hand away. in fact, he slid a little lower in his seat, making sam's palm rest higher up on his leg.

"it's physiological," sam whispered, almost pleading. "just let me help. release will help."

he watched with rapt attention as dean's lips pressed into a thin line and his head turned away. for a long moment that made his heart drop into his stomach: he thought dean was about to call him a freak and reject his offer. but then, there was an almost imperceptible nod from dean.

so his hand wandered up and up and up under that blanket, fingers tugging down his zipper and sliding under the rough fabric of dean's jeans. it was electric, so electric sam was almost surprised he didn't get shocked the minute he breached the waistband of dean's boxers. definitely a freak.

much to his satisfaction, he found dean hard in the offending, constricting fabric, his dick giving a little twitch like it could feel sam was barely a moment away from contact.

dean gasped when sam finally (finally!) wrapped a fist around his cock, to which sam shushed him. they were surrounded by people—if dean was too loud, who knows what would happen?

but at least he seemed to be somewhat distracted now.

beneath the blanket, sam gave slow, almost lazy strokes, trying to keep it slow so that the movement under the fabric wasn’t super noticeable and so he could prolong this as long as possible. sam doubted he’d ever get another chance like this again, and besides. dean would do well with having his mind off the flight for as long as he could draw it out.

he thumbed just over the crown, glancing around the cabin when dean made a brief choked sound low in his throat. the noise was accompanied by a blurt of precome, to which sam gathered it in his palm to make the slide easier.

it was a repetitive of a motion, but oddly soothing because of that. maybe sam was weird (well, he already knows he’s a freak). he twisted his wrist at the top, gaze stuck fast to the way dean’s eyes closed tightly shut, the way his teeth sunk roughly into his lower lip.

sam couldn't help it. he wanted to see more of that expression. maybe because he thought the release would help him too. maybe because he missed sex. maybe because he missed pleasing. maybe because he... had missed his brother. yeah. definitely a freak.

he fisted dean's cock faster, the slide so much easier from the tip weeping precome, dean's hips making the tiniest little twitches up into sam's palm. it was good, so good, he just wished he knew what exactly dean was feeling—

release.

hot and thick over his fingers, dirtying the inside of dean's boxers. majorly unfortunate considering they were stuck on this flight for a long while still, but watching the tension melt out of dean's muscles probably made it worth it. there was no fear anymore, just post-climax bliss. a haze.

sam (begrudgingly) pulled his hand out of dean's pants, missing the weight of his brother's cock in his grip. was that odd? definitely odd. definitely a freak. he wiped his skin clean with his shirt, stamping down the urge to lick his fingers clean. definitely a freak.

definitely a freak, but hey. at least dean was calm now. and at least they'd both managed to stay quiet about it.

and if sam quietly made his way to the bathroom to blow his load in the plane's cramped bathroom, hunched over the toilet and desperately stroking his dick, then that was his business.

definitely a freak.

[heallearngrow3]

blue and green

part 6 | blue and green

pairing: Connor x f! Reader

summary: “Were you selfish?”

warnings: none

masterlist

The place was full of smoke. It filled your lungs, rushed through your veins all the way to your core. You were shaking, your moves uncontrolled, legs trembling and when the speakers turned louder, your movements became erratic. The club was crowded, bodies pushed against each other, and perhaps that was the reason why you didn’t pick up on the hand placed against the small of your back. The palm gently rubbed the sensitive skin which wasn’t covered by your top, the touch light and comforting. You turned around and locked eyes with an unmistakable gaze - blue and green - and immediately took a catious step back. The effect of the vodka weared off in a split second, and suddenly you were awfully aware of the man standing in front of you. Your fingers twitched.

“Marcus.” his name on your lips sounded foreign, the uncomfortable realization of who the hand belonged to got you stumbling with your words. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer, but gestured to a brown haired woman dancing a few steps further, her skin glistening with sweat. She bobbed her head to the rythme of the song playing without care, her LED hidden by her messy strands stuck together.

“Her name is North. She wanted to go crazy before...” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“Before what?” the two of you were unmoving, staring at each other. “Before what, Marcus?”

The people around you didn’t take notice of his presence, probably because most of them only saw him without his skin. All that was broadcasted were replayed by the news channels again and again, analyzing and criticizing everything that was said.

“How’s Carl? Is he getting better?”

You let out a small sigh.

“Yes. The altercation with Leo took a tool on him but he’s getting better.”

“I am glad to hear that.” he took a quick glance at North. “You could help us.” he evaded your previous question. “You have access to everything that is in connection with CyberLife.

You shook your head in disbelief.

“No, I cannot. You brought this onto yourself. I am not a criminal nor an accomplice.” your voice was harsh, but you intended to make it clear to Markus: you couldn’t help him. There was a lot on your plate already. You had to make him understand that there was more at stake than your job. You were playing with your freedom. Your life.

“But you helped us before. You helped me, [Name].”

“Because you were important to Carl. Not because I set a high value on the revolution.”

He looked taken aback by your response.

“We need you.” his eyes darkened. “You are close to the fire.”

“And I won’t let it burn me.”

You were still, holding his gaze intently. He looked determined, ready to convince you by any means, and his face held endless secrets which you wanted to reveal. You wanted to shout, scream that even if you wanted to, the risk wasn’t worth it. You would be putting your life on the line, and the idea that you could loose everything you’ve worked for left a bad tasting bile in your throat.

“We need you.” he put an emphasis on the last word. “I need you.”

You stepped in front of him, closing the distance between you.

“And I want to stay alive.”

Were you selfish? Were you so full of yourself, so proud, that you confused good and evil? Was Marcus right, were you really needed to win this unaccounted for fight? The pang of guilt inside your chest was an awful echo, whispering that you were refusing to see reality.

“I understand.” he nodded. “The next time we’ll see each other, things are going to be…different.”

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.

“I wish you the best, [Name].”

You couldn’t get your legs moving, instead, you watched his retreating form. His muscles created a perfectly orchestrated harmony which contradicted to his previous feather-like touch on your lower back.

Markus was getting ready for something. Something that could change the world.

All of the alcohol you drank left your body in a few seconds, and you felt your sobriety taking over the control of your body. You moved swiftly in the ocean of bodies sticking together and clawed your way out into the opened terrace. The smoking area was a few feet wide, fitting for a few people and you took a breath of the chilly night air. Your hands rammed through the pocket of your denim jacket tied around your waist and when you found the small box you took out a cigarette and lit it with one move.

Breathing in, you inhaled the bittersweet poison.

You wanted to have a shower, washing away your doubts.

Footage of the march was posted on every news outlet, every screen reflecting Marcus leading the crowd to a halt in front of the police, putting their hands up and pledging innocence and peace and getting shot one by one. The public opinion was sympathetic, supporting the deviants efforts for equality and justice, the way they protested for their rights and recognition appealed to people.

You wondered how far they would go for their preferred outcome.

You switched off the television, going to back to the papers on your desk waiting to be looked over. You also had to take care of the androids hidden in the storage room. You had their passports but you needed to call Rose to talk her into taking them in for the night. Her house was a secured shelter, one of its kind, and you were utterly grateful for her generosity. Offering a safe place to the lost was more than a crime. It was a death warrant.

Marcus and the rest of Jericho was on the verge of starting a never ending war between rebellious machines and close minded humans. The latter were unsure, fearing for their own survival and safety. Detroit was less of a city and more of a paradise of progress with endless possibilities but to some, developing meant risking their comfort, their normality.

You opened the top drawer of your desk and took out the small envelope. It was time to give instructions to the three androids you were hiding.

It was late and the tower was already empty. The halls were silent, your steps seemed louder than ever, and the three passports you were holding were burning your hands. You stepped into your laboratory, and opened the storage room’s door. It revealed the three androids standing inside with a small hiss.

“I’m here to get you out.” you said quietly. “First you need to go to this location. There’s a woman called Rose, you can stay the night there and leave the next morning to cross the border. Here.” you pulled out the envelope. “Three bus tickets and your passports. Try to evade any detection and scans.”

The three of them nodded in appreciation.

“I’m going to have to put you in this crate. It was used to contain new androids who were yet to be activated. There is enough space for you. We have to go through security and you can’t just waltz out of here on your own.” seeing their expressions, you added. “You will be safe, but you have to trust me.”

They glanced at each other and looked back at you.

“Alright.” said one of them.

“Let’s do this.” you motioned to the huge box, signaling for them to get in.

The stepped inside with uncertainty on their faces.

You didn’t encourage them, instead, you patiently waited until they got in. Their eyes were filled with panic, fear, you realized, and you casted them a smile before you shut the door.

You moved the crate with a pallet truck and rolled it out to the elevator. The tower was silent, the soft noise of the wheels was a harsh scream in the void. You pushed the large, metal box into the lift abd waited till it closed to identify yourself with your voice.

“[Name] detected. Alarm deactivated.”

When you got to the parking garage you moved the crate through the cement floor and gently pushed it onto the truck of your Ford. It landed with a gentle puff, and after you got into the driver seat you started the car with shaking hands.

There you were. Doing what almost got you killed a year ago.

Rose’s house was a idyllic cottage outside Detroit. She secretly supported the deviants’ movement with a place to stay and helped androids by smuggling them to Canada, a safe country to start over.

She was kind. Too kind in your eyes.

You drove the three androids to her home and called out James’ name to find the older woman. Her son was different from her in many aspects, he despised what his mother was doing and voiced his concerns every time you were present. You understood him in a way: it was dangerous and full of obstacles. No one wanted to get involved is this mess but Rose was certain that it was the right thing to do and you didn’t have the heart to plainly doubt her.

“James!” your high pitched voice ranged out in the snowy field. “James!”

“I’m here!” came the reply from the glass house behind the home.

You followed the noise and found the teenager inside. He was holding and axe and you smiled at him before looking around.

“I’m trying not find Rose. Is she here?” you asked.

“She’s in the kitchen.” he answered skittishly. “Why are you looking for her?”

“I have three androids with me. They need to cross the border to Canada.” you knew what he thought before his reaction.

He looked down nervously and then glanced back at you.

“There was a policeman here earlier.” he said. “He asked…questions. We need to be careful.”

You nodded in understanding.

“I promise you everything will go smoothly.” you assured him gently. “Be safe, James.” you added.

Rose was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a metal pot. Her hand on her hip was her signature stand and you couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips.

“Hey, Rose. Long time no see.” she turned around and when she realized who was talking smiled widely at you. You knew her for a long time, longer than you dared to look back in time. Much like you, she was unlike anyone else, appearing to be an ordinary citizen hiding her true self to deceive others.

“How can I help you? I haven’t seen you in months!” she squeaked.

“I got three androids on the loose with me. Can you help them get across the border?”

The looped smile of hers calmed your rampaging nerves.

“Of course.”

“They are in the car.” your expression was shaded by worry. “I’ll tell them to come in.”

You stepped outside and took a deep breath for the first time after hours. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

[mashithamel]

When I first heard Rand would be working in a sanitarium in season 2 and he’d have a friend named Errol, I was kind of annoyed. Why would they spend precious time in a location and on a character that aren’t in the books, when there is so much ground to cover and so many characters to introduce?

But they used this setting and this character so economically, and so efficiently, that I have been completely converted. They didn’t waste a moment of screentime for Errol, and in only a few minutes justified his creation as a terrific vehicle for exposition and to introduce so many important concepts.

As soon as Rand walks in the door we’re introduced to the Aiel War (specifically—I means we got Blood Snow last season but it wasn’t put in a lot of context). We get a personal view into how much Cairhein specifically was affected by it (the effects of which are mentioned a couple more times this season), as well as giving it a relative timeframe—Errol is much older than Rand, so it wasn’t just a few years ago.

We are reminded that Rand looks like the Aiel even with shaving his head, reminding us about his adoption and that he’s an outsider. Here in Cairhein, even when people know and like him, the citizens are likely to have a gut reaction of surprise or fear when they first see him, something that may contribute to his difficulties ruling the place down the road. We are reminded that they are considered fierce fighters, and introduce that their women also fight and are considered deadly.

We are introduced to sword forms! We didn’t get Lan training Rand in either season (although it sounds like we will finally get it next season!), so it’s nice to learn he’s been getting at least some introductory training if he’s going to be a blademaster eventually. It’s also very consistent with the books for Rand to take advantage of opportunities to learn whatever and from whoever he can. We’re reminded about Rand’s heron-marked blade (before it does its important thing and melts in episode 8) and make the connection that it is carried by blademasters.

So importantly, we see how kind Rand is. He clearly knows and likes this crazy old man who’s calling for the guards. He speaks to him kindly without a trace of annoyance that they’re having the same conversation they do everyday (anyone who cares for people with dementia can probably understand that is really hard at times!). He puts Errol’s shoes on for him. This isn’t quite washing feet, which Biblically speaking is an act of humbling one’s self, but it’s definitely the sort of thing you wouldn’t expect the Promised One to be doing routinely. Right now it’s his job to do, but he does it with the care and compassion you might have for an elderly family member. He defends and comforts Errol when another employee is cruel. At heart Rand is kind and loving. Killing, ordering executions, sending people into danger where some will definitely die are all things he will need to do as Dragon Reborn, and his struggle with this will inform a large part of his arc over the next few seasons.

We see the inequality of the Cairheinin system (and then more blatently at the dinner party). Unsurprisingly the Cairheinin separate their health care by wealth and power, and it sounds like the poor ones may not even have a garden to walk around in? The Two Rivers doesn’t really have this type of inequality, and some of the first things Rand does in the books as the Dragon Reborn is make the elite start treating the poor and lower classes more fairly.

And of course we get PTSD and mental illness. Both PTSD and fears of going mad are important for Rand later, so this early introduction helps define the stakes for him.

It was such a short scene, and I’m sure there are other details those with more skill could expand on (the horse that Rand sets upright? the color palate?). I just really appreciated how much the writers crammed into an original character to help lay the groundwork not just for this season but for seasons (hopefully) to come.

[chaifootsteps]

sarcastic productions did a vid recently about this thing called Tone Armor and it explains something I've had issues with in HB but struggled to articulate

so Tone Armor is, to simplify it (but I do recommend the vid) what the audience understands the stakes of the show to be. I.e. in a Loony Tunes short no one expects a character to be seriously hurt falling off a cliff, getting shot in the face, getting a piano dropped on them, etc. It's kind of part of suspension of disbelief - some shows exploit tone armor by having an early twist that goes against the conventions of the genre. The twist in Madoka Magica ep3 works entirely off this - if you've seen a lot of magical girl shows like Sailor Moon and Cardcaptors you're used to their stakes and you don't expect anyone to really die. In ep3, someone really dies.

And that's a big problem I have with HB - it can't keep its stakes or tone consistent to save its life. In Harvest Moon, Stella hiring Striker to kill Stolas is played like a dark comedy joke. We're supposed to take it like a dramatic beat but also a kind of wacky demon thing. But then The Circus drastically shifts the tone and expects us to treat Stolas and Stella as a straight example of domestic violence - which they do by having her try to slap him, something which is much less violent than the hit she's already ordered on him episodes before. They've already had Stella escalate to the end point most abusers get to, played it as a joke, and they want to turn around and demand the audience instead take it seriously instead of treating it like just a thing demons do? It was already shaky ground in ep5 whether we should judge Stella for ordering a hit given that the premise of the show used to be about imps running an assasination business, and their targets used to be in Hell!

The show also can't make up its mind whether the audience should be worried about the characters being in real danger at any moment in time. Western Energy is the absolute nadir for this - one minute Stolas is dodging holy bullets like he knows he's in danger, the next he's calling Blitzo and speaking with no more urgency than he did when he hired him as a bodyguard in Loo Loo Land (and the episode seems to expect us to blame Blitzo for not dropping everything to help him? Why wasn't Stolas screaming in terror on the phone then???). Worse, when he gets cut off Stolas says out loud 'am I in danger right now?' like he wasn't just tied up on the back of a horse bound with blessed rope. What in gods name happened to his intelligence in this episode?

Then it's right back to wacky hijinks right as the tone was starting to shift with the Striker song from the imp trio and Stolas is still making jokes ('how does one get their own theme song?') until the episode then decides it's going to be serious and act like the audience should be worried Stolas could die. Besides the fact Viv was never going to kill her Creator's Pet, it is way too late to demand an audience buy into this plot line on a dramatic level. To make it worse half the fight scene is scored with a bubblegum pop song on the radio and it keeps cutting to the much lower stakes Blitzo trying to get Loona to take her shot, like it makes any sense at all to cross cut between the two! That episode is absolute garbage imo and I have no idea why it ended up the way it did outside of Viv probably insisting there needed to be a plot device that would render Stolas helpless (which begs the question how Striker hasn't managed to finish off half of Hell's nobles by now if he has blessed rope or at least Stolas, given he's also dumb enough not to bother using his eye powers or his demonic form earlier - the power levels in this show are also massively inconsistent)

And then to put the cherry on a very bad cake Blitzo asks 'he can get hurt?' like he didn't already know blessed weapons exist and he didn't already fight Striker for trying to kill Stolas with one of them (which he should have let him do to spare us all the badness of this never-ending plotline)

Extremely good point.

Tone armor is definitely a thing, and Viv's problem is that she wants it to be both ways. She wants this show to be Looney Tunes and Madoka, and she wants to alternate back and forth between the two whenever she pleases, and when her audience inevitably complains or is confused, to blame them.

And that's not how this works.

[comicgeekery]

The Veiled Lodger

Shout out to my new favorite character: Mark Merrilow! As a Baker Street neighbor, I hope he shows up again. The same with Eugenia! So, Sherlock & Co. is clearly still sticking with some lower stakes stories in the wake of the Sign of Four epic. And good for them. Sherlock Holmes may not be able to help becoming internationally famous, but his bread-and-butter is the "small" case that everyone else overlooks. It's a major part of what gives him his great heart along with his great mind (see: Three Garridebs). And what's more heartfelt than helping a neighbor to heal? Sherlock showed a lot of compassion in this one, even though it included his usual disregard for boundaries and propriety. He is NOT getting the message that it's wrong to invade someone's personal space without permission. But once he confronted Eugenia, he was gentle and caring, both for her and to John. I think that, in a round-about way, when he compared Eugenia's scars to John's heartbreak it was meant to also tell John that Sherlock supported him and that he too would be able to heal and live again. I also really liked the humor in this adventure. As I said, Mark is a new favorite for me. I love his guileless charm. "Yeah, I just have a knack for reading people. My boarder clearly has a tragic past. I can tell because she's quiet and withdrawn. Also, something horribly disfigured her face at some point." On top of that, he was super refreshing as a character who was horrified at a tragic situation and immediately took steps to make it better. He saw the state of Eugenia's room, saw that she wasn't eating, and said "Fuck that, I'm getting her some food and some bloody loving companionship!" He still doesn't know her story at the end of the episode and I don't think that matters to him at all. But of course I need to address the central story itself. It was a bold choice to bring in a character who struggles to speak and give her a large uninterrupted section of an audio drama to tell her story. And I think that it was perfect. Eugenia is voiced by Jasmine Kerr, who did an astonishing job. Unless I found the wrong actor in my search, Kerr doesn't seem to have any vocal disability herself*, but I sincerely had no idea during the episode. She managed to simultaneously perform having no nose, having an East European accent, AND all of the rage, fear, and despair that Eugenia felt. Those are some acting CHOPS. *As incredible as the performance was, I wish that Sherlock & Co. had gotten someone with a real similar disability to play the role. Any actor with vocal limitations is going to have an incredibly hard time getting roles and this could have been a tailor-made opportunity.

Eugenia's character is so beautifully nuanced. She's tragic from the abuse she faced in her life at the circus, but she's a self-confessed murder accomplice and conspirator who isn't interested in anyone trying to mitigate those charges. Her account was a challenge to face and more powerful because of it. It does raise my old question though: where are the consequences for this all being aired as a podcast? This time Sherlock and John might have gotten in trouble for a bit of stalking/trespassing, but it's doubtful Eugenia would want to press charges. The larger issue is that this woman 100% confessed to planning and aiding in a murder! It's been recorded and published! Is there really going to be no official follow-up from the police? No court case? Just..."Well she's had a pretty miserable life ever since so let's call it even."? And this really frustrates me because it can still go either way! Either we're meant to repeat to ourselves it's just a show, we should really just relax, OR I'm justified in my conspiracy theory that Mycroft and other government folks are consistently intervening so that Sherlock can have his fun and continue probably the most stable and healthy life he's ever had. Which would be sweet. Kind of. And finally I want to address one line that really struck me. “Your life isn’t yours...keep your hands off it.” I don't know if that's a phrase that's been used elsewhere, but it meant a lot to me. A playful way of saying "You belong to others" and also "You belong". Eugenia needed to hear that. And I think a lot of other people do too. As I said at the beginning, I hope that we hear from these characters again. I hope they become regular background mentions or even cameos. Because I like them. And because I want to know that Eugenia has begun to build a life past the tragedy that's defined it.

[charrfie]

Ok, still salty over Two Realms (it SUCKED) so gotta ask you, how would YOU have done a third drawn to life game (I've kinda wanted one with wilfre seemingly being the antagonist at first before him either being dethroned or he was actually trying to help and fumbling it BADLY)

Ohhh I'm just so excited that people are so interested in my thoughts to the point I keep getting asks related to the topic!!!!! ^_^ Thank you it's very exciting to be able to talk to everyone like this. I don't often publicly interact with the fandom because of some bad experiences I've had in it some years ago but it seems like the environment of it has changed a lot... maybe I should be more vocal about my interest in the series? Everyone who's being so nice about it has been such a big help. That's unrelated to your question, I just wanted to express appreciation!

Now, to actually answer you lol.. I put this under a read more again since it's a little lengthy, but not NEARLY as long as my previous ask

-

Fellow two realms hater 🤝 It was just such a letdown idk where I would even start. The glaringly obvious answer is the actual gameplay itself what with the level design/lack of stylus being how it was but I think my personal biggest problem was the story itself. It seemed to retcon or at least gloss over a lot of the plot from previous games which not only felt clunky but overall lowered the stakes to such a degree... it made me not care about the character drama nearly as much. Which is such a shame! Drawn to life and drawn to life: the next chapter are genuinely my #1 most favorite video games to ever exist. I mean this with no exaggeration. Even if they're kind of bad. Lol. But!!! The potential that the story and characters have in the original two games completely reels me back in!!! There's SO much there, even if it's not put together with the most grace. The subject matter is so serious and something so rarely talked about, ESPECIALLY for the age demographic it was aimed towards. These characters feel so real!!! So fleshed out!!!! It's endlessly compelling!!!!!!!!

All this being said, I think what I would do is make dtl:tr a lot more character/story driven since thats such a major appeal for me in previous entries. While it's even more evident in two realms, both dtl and dtl:tnc do have levels that tend to be a big of a slog to get through in comparison to the 10 seconds of story the player might get as a reward; there would need to be more balance.

As for what this story would actually contain.... I'm a little conflicted. While I'm not the biggest fan of aldark as a villain (he kind of came out of nowhere just to fill a necessary role of "evil"), I *do* like the idea of wilfre being replaced rather than coming back again, and I REALLY REALLY REALLY like the concept of the shadow that controlled wilfre garnering the strength to present itself as a physical manifestation rather than a conduit. I don't even mind if it functions as a solely evil entity! There's something to be said for that just as there's something to be said for wilfre being more morally gray anti-hero than pointlessly evil villain. I'd love to do something in this vein, though probably leave the human world out of it? Or at least keep it very vague. The raposa world gives us as the viewers enough plausible deniability to accept ridiculous/strange events without question.... it's only because the human world is so painfully realistic that the ending of dtl:tnc has the effect it does. So needless to say that's a no on keeping it as the main storyline.

I really like your idea of wilfre trying to help and then fumbling. That's similar to what I wished for when two realms was first announced actually! I sooooo badly wanted to see him trying and failing to adjust to normalcy again post him being freed of the shadow's influence, which I talked about VERY briefly here following the games announcement. I'd love to see him trying to make amends with those he had hurt (a la "ice king apology tour" from the marcy & simon comics), rediscovering who he even is as an individual again, or parsing through what his relationship with the creator has become. It opens up for some pretty interesting conversations. Especially considering how much shit other raposa might give him when he fails to help in the way they expect him to. At the same time, I'd love to get some more dialogue on where jowee and mari are at in their lives. How mari handles leadership (as she actively struggled with it in dtl and dtl:tnc), if jowee has allowed himself to exist outside of the scope of others and their judgement/expectations, etc. The fact that those two get married at the end of two realms threw me for such a loop.... because even when nothing was actively threatening them in dtl:tr they still bickered so much? I'd really like to delve into how people can naturally grow apart as they age and come to understand they may not be right for those they grew up with, as painful as that realization may be. A remake of two realms could also be a cool way of having circi introduced into official canon since she's way too interesting of a character to be constainte to the non-canon wii game.

These are all the story changes I know for a fact I'd like. But it's hard to say definitively what the plot would be other than designating an antagonist concept and the general themes which would be at play. I'm not quite sure what or how a manifested shadow antagonist would again threaten the safety of the raposa world! I figure any retconning necessary for the raposa world to even exist in the first place could be as simple as "oh I knew we could trust the creator to establish a new world for us," which would also heavily contribute to wilfre's character struggles in a very interesting way. So that's not too big of a problem. Drawn to life has bullshitted more complicated things away than just that. I'll have to keep thinking! Maybe I can work up a proper dtl:tr rewritten au alongside the other two aus I have.

I'd love to hear other thoughts about a potential remake of two realms if anyone has them!

[scarlet--wiccan]

Thoughts on X-Statix #22?

It's certainly a relic of its time. This issue came out about half a year before Avengers Disassembled kicked off, so it was one the last moments before everything really went to shit for Wanda. So much about the way this character is written changed after 2004, so it's interesting to see not only how her powers are used, but also how her past is framed and which traumas get referenced.

For context-- X-Statix and the Avengers are both trying to recover scattered pieces of Doop's brain. Why? Don't worry about it. Wanda and Dead Girl are fighting over a piece that crashed into a ship that was carrying toxic waste. The lower levels of the boat are flooded with poisonous liquid, and the brain fragment is at the bottom. Wanda creates a hex sphere around herself, sort of like a force field, so she can dive through the toxic matter, but it requires consistent concentration. The hex sphere begins to falter when Dead Girl distracts Wanda with visions of dead people from her past-- in this case, Marya, and later, some of the villagers who were caught in the fire Wanda accidentally started, back when she and Pietro were still teenagers in Transia.

If this issue came out now, people would probably complain that Wanda is too weak or ineffectual, but this is a pretty classic treatment when it comes to her hex powers. They used to require a lot of sustained effort. Putting her in a high-stakes situation where she has to maintain her focus, with an enemy who can easily break it, is actually a really good set up... for this version of Wanda, anyways. Nowadays, her powers are have grown far beyond this point, in both strength and scope, and it started with Disassembled/HoM essentially rewriting her entire character. Her growth feels more earned in the present day, but it still makes it harder to create reasonable obstacles or challenges. Writers like Orlando and MacKay sometimes struggle to create believable stakes for Wanda, but it also doesn't help that her "fans" complain when she's written as anything less than an omnipotent goddess. While I appreciate the depth and expansiveness of Wanda's magic now, I really do miss the days before HoM, when she could still scale back and feel more grounded.

I have mixed feelings about the stuff with Marya and the villagers. If this scene was written now, it would be about the Decimation. That is almost always peoples' first point of reference when it comes to Wanda's feelings of trauma and regret. In my opinion, the things that she and Pietro experienced as children are much more formative, and in general, I appreciate any story that recognizes how important Marya and Django are to the twins. What I don't appreciate is when cameos, flashbacks, and visions like this reduce them to hackneyed stereotypes. "It's me, your mother, the woman who raised you" works just as well as "the woman who sang you gypsy lullabies by the campfire." Also, I'm JUST NOW realizing her name is misspelled as "Myra."

Ironically, we now know that Marya is not dead after all, but Dead Girl explains that she's actually just conjuring visions from Wanda's memory, so technically, this moment still fits into canon.

[tryingmy-positivelybest]

Rebels rewatch liveblog: Season 1, Episode 4: “Fighter Flight”

I love how Ezra immediately tries to flirt with Sabine - it’s very realistic for a 15 yo boy. I like that they just ended up as friends/siblings though, it shows both of their character development and maturity

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Thank god Chopper never met the 501st because his little shit instincts would have overdeveloped

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Kothal on Lothal? How on earth did they get that?

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We really don’t give a lot of credit to Hera, she deserves more 😭😭

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Okay but why does the Empire need meilooruns?

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Usually when characters speak to themselves it sounds odd and sort of like a video game, but in Rebels they do a good job of making it sound natural

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Zeb’s insistence that Ezra and him need to be even makes me wonder if the Lasats had a life-debt culture? It’s canon in other cultures such as gungans, so it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch…

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I love Hera and Sabine’s dynamic

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“THE KIDS”?? “THE KIDS”?? You are correct sir, you and Hera and the exhausted parents, Zeb is the older brother, Sabine is the cooler older sister that everyone is intimidated by, and Ezra is the disaster youngest who’s the parents favorite and no one can stay mad at. (Honorable mention: Vodka uncle Chopper)

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Rebels s1 shows the Empires day to day, which I love. Sort of like Andor but with much lower stakes - of course they’re taking farms, of course they’re buying meilooruns at a local market.

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I love the reference to a new hope ❤️❤️

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Ezra’s absurdly powerful for someone who’s only trained with the force for like?? a week?? Like he’s already sensing obstacles and pushing buttons. Speaking of, i think that it would have been interesting to explore the idea of Ezra using the force before he met the Ghost crew - not knowing what it is, just knowing that it helps to convince storekeepers to give him food

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“You did all this for fruit” stormtrooper you will always be famous

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Ezra it’s YOUR backpack 1. Why do you not know what’s in it?? And 2. Why do you have a WRENCH?

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Brother brother bonding time by killing stormtroopers and hiding stolen vehicles <3

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Zeb trying to show that he cares by giving Ezra the helmet, only for Ezra to dismiss it is so sad, but it probably speaks volumes for the social skills that Ezra couldn’t develop on the streets (he took it tho <33)