#usually I HATE high school AUs but I needed a setup in which I could refer to Mister Jopson as Teej

[dykeredhood]

The Terror high school AU where the rowing crew’s 2 charter busses break down in the middle of nowhere on their way to a regatta

Thomas Jopson is referred to as TJ or just Teej

[smileysuh]

your hand

🌙 staring. Yunho x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. it’s a classic parlor love story: big tattoo man finds new receptionist cute, but he can’t talk to her until something totally avoidable happens that brings them together out of his own sheer stupidity- that kind of shindig ;) 

cw/ tw.  alcohol consumption, injury, hand kink, sizekink, man handling, dirty talk, praise, fingering, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, mentions of cum play, mirror sex,  light bondage/restriction, gentle choking, inklings of breeding kink, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 6.6k

🍭 aus. tattooist au

☀️ mlist + an. this yunho is the light of my entire life

The glass of beer cupped in Yunho’s hand is still cold, and beads of condensation drip onto his fingers, which are tightly wrapped around the glass. His eyes, which are fixed on your body while you dance, are as set as his jaw is, and one look at the man could tell anyone paying attention that he’s just about ready to snap.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa are in the booth next to the much larger man, and they’re discussing tattoos, as usual. Yunho can hear them on the periphery of his mind, but he’s more occupied with thoughts of rage. It feels like there’s a storm cloud brewing inside of him, and when the DJ switches to an angry rap song, the loud bass speakers setup through the club send the sentiment of the lyrics straight into Yunho’s chest, which only adds fuel to the fire.

Yunho lets go of his beer and stands abruptly- intent on stomping down to the dance floor and putting an end to the scene in front of him that he’s been watching unfold for the better part of ten minutes- but just then, Mingi returns from the bathroom, and he succeeds where their other two friends have failed in seeing Yunho’s anger.

“Woah!” Mingi says, hands finding Yunho’s shoulders, “are you okay!?”

“What do you mean is he okay?” Hongjoong asks, suddenly very interested in the friend that he’d been ignoring in favor of discussing a snake tattoo he was entrusting Seonghwa to do for him on his shoulder. 

Yunho’s eyes remain fixed on you over his roommate’s shoulder, and when he speaks, his words come out much ruder than he intends them to; “Get out of my way Mingi.”

It’s then that Mingi follows Yunho’s gaze, turning to do a sweep of the crowd-

“Oh,” he breathes, seeing what the problem is immediately.

You’ve been working as the receptionist at their tattoo parlour for two months now, and while you’ve become close to all of the men there, Yunho had very pointedly made a claim to you on your third day, declaring to his friends after you’d gone home that, “you all better back off from her, because I’m going to make that girl mine”- 

Only, by the way you’re sandwiched between San and Wooyoung, it appears that in the weeks since his declaration, Yunho’s friends seem to have forgotten it ever took place.

It’s not that Yunho hasn’t been trying to woo you- he has, it’s just… he’s so used to one night stands and blowing a girl’s back out to make her fall for him, that his ‘courting’ skills have gotten a bit - let’s say - rusty.  

It doesn’t help that the six foot one tattoo artist has barely been able to hold a conversation with you without stumbling over his words and then spending the rest of the day hating himself for looking stupid- but he can’t help it, you’re just so cute and sweet- and you always have a massive smile on your face when he walks in to start his shift- and you remember his coffee order when you sometimes go to grab drinks when the shop is looking a little worse for ware after nights out partying- and then there’s the way you’re always thinking one step ahead, anticipating their needs before they even know they need them themselves-

He’s in love with you, hopelessly so- and it’s a foreign feeling for the man who hasn’t been able to hold down a steady girlfriend since high school. 

And it’s because he’s in love with you that Yunho is able to take a breath, his chest tightening with the motion until it’s practically searing. With a moment of clarity, Yunho reaches for his beer, downing the glass in three big gulps, and then he announces, “I'm going home.”

He doesn’t look at you again, doesn’t want to see if Wooyoung’s gotten closer to your back, or if San’s still twirling you with a big dopey grin on his face. Yunho’s never been the kind of person to wish his friends ill will, but when he exits the club, it’s the most he can do not to key Wooyoung’s gaudy yellow and black striped 1967 Camaro in retaliation for his behaviour.

But can Yunho really blame the guy?

When Yunho enters the parlour on Monday morning, you greet him with as much enthusiasm as ever, saying “good morning Yun-oh no!” your temperament shifts drastically, “What happened to your hand?!”

You’re on your feet in an instant, and Yunho tucks the bandage wrapped extremity into the pocket of his hoodie, muttering “nothing,” as he attempts to sidestep you- 

But you put your body between the large man and his tattooing station, looking up at him with as much determination on your adorable little face as he’s ever seen. 

“Yunho,” you say sternly, “your hand is hurt.”

It’s not a question this time, it’s merely a statement, and Yunho simply looks at you for a good moment or two before shrugging his massive shoulders. “What about it?”

“What about it?” you scoff, letting out a small laugh, shaking your head and then furrowing your brows- a whole array of emotions that Yunho isn’t sure what to make of. “Yunho- you’re one of the best tattooists here- I know you don’t use your left hand to tattoo- but you still have to use it to stretch the skin-”

“I know how to do my job,” Yunho interjects gruffly, running the in tact, artist fingers of his right hand through messy dark locks to calm himself down, “I’ll be fine.”

Your lips part, concern evident on your face, “But-”

“I have a client soon, I need to get my station set up.” 

He hates the way his words make your shoulders slump a little, and he can see the defeat in your expression.

With a sigh, you nod, “okay, sorry I asked.”

Then you move out of his way, returning to the reception desk, and after a moment of regret, Yunho tightens his right hand into a fist and carries on with his day.

“What happened to your hand?” 

This time, Yunho can’t avoid the question, not when it’s being asked by his boss. 

Yunho knew it was just a matter of time before Hongjoong cornered him, and he’d been feeling the watchful eye of the shorter man for his entire two hour morning appointment.

Despite having a messed up leftie, Yunho had managed - as he knew he would- but after two hours of keeping his left hand rigid, holding skin stretched to allow for the needle and ink to enter properly, he’s definitely feeling sore. 

“You really want to know?” Yunho asks, instead of answering right away, setting down the cup of coffee he’d just poured himself in the little staff room in the back of the parlour. 

Hongjoong rolls his eyes with exasperation. “Do you really want to know?” he mocks, “of course I want to know! Fucking tell me.” 

“I punched a power pole.” 

There are three stagnant beats of silence, then, “You what?” 

Yunho feels the heat rising to his skin, and he averts his eyes, instead opting to look down at the knuckles of his left hand, where the bandages are beginning to turn red-

“Is this why you didn’t answer any texts yesterday?!” Hongjoong demands, “and skipped Sunday brunch?”

“I doubted San or Wooyoung would show up to the diner, so why would I bother?” Yunho shrugs, putting his hand back into the pocket of his hoodie where his boss and long time friend won’t be able to see that he’s started bleeding again.

He’ll have to deal with the bandages, but not until Hongjoong leaves him alone.

Hongjoong’s face has gotten progressively scrunched up with annoyance and exasperation- despite this, the next words that leave his lips are actually music to Yunho’s ears; “San and Wooyoung were at Sunday Brunch- if this is about Y/N, then you’re being stupid, they didn’t go home with her.”

Yunho considers his options for a moment, and then decides to ask, “Why would this be about Y/N?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a guttural noise sounding in the back of his throat. “It’s all Mingi could talk about after you left- which, speaking of, he told us you locked your bedroom door and wouldn’t come out and talk to him all day yesterday- you asshole.” 

“I had nothing to say to him,” Yunho brushes it off, although he does feel bad about his treatment of his longtime roommate and best friend.

“Well he had things to say to you, like, for example: after he dragged San and Wooyoung off the dance floor when you left, they told him how Y/N had friend-zoned them as soon as they’d picked her up to go to the club on Saturday evening.”

Yunho’s body stills, his heart thumping loudly in his chest.

He swallows thickly. “She friend-zoned them?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong nods, “looks like she has eyes on someone else, and I doubt it’s me, Hwa or Mingi.”

“Fucking Yeosang,” Yunho growls, tightening both his hands into fists before he can even stop himself, which causes pain to sear up his arm like tingly electric kisses. 

Hongjoong lets out his umpteenth sound of annoyance, bringing both hands up to hide his face. He drags the skin of his eyes down with his fingers before he grabs the front of Yunho’s hoodie, “not fucking Yeosang, you stupid ass,” he nearly screams, “she doesn’t even talk to Yeosang!”

���So she likes Jongho? The fucking apple smasher?”

“You know what?” Hongjoong lets go of Yunho’s hoodie, “I don’t even know why I try to help you. If you want to play stupid, play stupid, see if I fucking care, but don’t let your hand ruin any client work today or I’ll fire your stupid ass, got it?”

“Got it.” Yunho nods.

Hongjoong leaves the staff room, and Yunho is left standing there, thoughts racing- 

The implication of Hongjoong’s words weighs heavily on Yunho’s shoulders, and he does mental gymnastics to see if he’s going to give Hongjoong’s suspicions of who you might be into any credence. 

You can’t like him… can you?

His heart races rapidly in his chest at the thought, and the large muscle in his chest sends blood pumping through his large body- all the way down to his hand, which practically thrums to the steady beat. 

It feels like there’s a billion buzzing bees pressed between his hot skin and the bandage, and Yunho knows he has to get the blood speckled wrap off and check his hand before his next client comes in an hour.

He turns to exit the staffroom and bumps straight into Mingi, who is standing with a look of betrayal on his face, mouth a firm line, eyes narrowed. 

“You ignored me all day yesterday.”

Unlike most of his interactions, when Yunho is with Mingi, he doesn’t even think his responses through, he simply lets them escape him, and the “I’m sorry” that immediately tumbles past his lips is as genuine as ever. 

Mingi obviously hadn’t been expecting an apology so soon, and his expression softens, then his eyes go to Yunho’s hurt hand, which is exposed at his side. “What happened to your hand!?”

Yunho loves how easy things are with Mingi, one heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’ and the man drops the entire issue- not that Yunho’s ever made a habit of upsetting his friend. 

“I punched a power pole.” 

“What!?” Mingi’s eyes double in size with shock, and he reaches for Yunho’s hand, gently assessing it, “but why?!” 

“You know why.”

“But Y/N friend-zoned Wooyoung and San-”

“I know that now,” Yunho breathes, softening with each moment that his friend fusses over him, “but I didn't know that on Saturday.”

“We have to get this cleaned and re-bandaged,” Mingi says, dropping Yunho’s hand. “I’ll go get the first aid kit and meet you in the bathroom.”

“What about your clients?”

“I have the hour off.”

“Are you sure you want to help? I can do it myself-”

Mingi gives Yunho a look that says ‘really bitch? Look at your left hand’ and Yunho has to admit- he hadn’t done a great job with the initial wrapping. 

“Fine,” Yunho concedes, “I’ll meet you in the bathroom.”

“And no coffee,” Mingi declares, blocking Yunho’s attempt to grab his cup. “No one likes coffee breath, especially not clients. Take some gum.”

A few minutes later, Yunho is in the bathroom, blowing tiny spearmint scented bubbles that make loud little pops each time he gives them too much air, distracting himself slightly from the pain that blooms across his knuckles while he carefully removes the bloodied bandage. 

The door to the one occupant space opens, and Yunho doesn’t look up from his work, but he does say, “took you long enough Gi, what happened? Couldn’t find the first aid kit?”

“Gi?” 

A cold tingle rushes up Yunho’s spine, body going rigid at the sound of your voice, and he’s so taken aback that he accidentally swallows his gum - and he has to try really hard not to start choking immediately-

He lifts his eyes, meeting yours through the mirror. “Mingi,” he corrects, coughing slightly to clear his throat, “I thought you were Mingi.”

“That’s sweet that you call him Gi,” you offer a small smile. “I’ve never heard you call him that before.”

Yunho doesn’t know how to respond to your words, so he doesn't, instead, he tears his gaze from yours, covering his bad hand in an effort to hide the exposed wound from you. 

“I um-” he sees you shift awkwardly in his peripheral vision, voice faltering, then a flash of red, “Mingi said you might need help with putting on a new bandage?”

“Of course he did,” Yunho sighs. Leave it to his best friend to try to play matchmaker. “I’ll be fine alone.”

“Just cuz you’ll be fine doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get help,” you muse, slipping fully into the bathroom and letting the door shut softly behind you.

Yunho lifts his eyes, quickly giving you a once over- he can’t help himself, the baby doll style dress you’re in is just too cute for him to handle, and his heart is running faster and faster with each moment he’s now in a small enclosed space with you. 

“If I ask you to leave, will you?” 

You shake your head, “not a chance,” and as if to show your determination, you even click the lock into place, leaning your shoulder against the door with a stubborn set of your mouth.

Yunho lets out another deep breath, looking down at the sink. With a flick of his wrist, he turns the faucet on, biting his tongue to stop a hiss of discomfort from the cold water hitting his wounded knuckles.

The white porcelain makes the red tinge of the water all the more evident, and when Yunho wiggles his sore fingers, the largest gash throbs. He’d been worried about this specific wound since he’d haphazardly bandaged it on Saturday night, and looking at his bruised skin in the bright light of the bathroom, he can see that his suspicions were correct: there’s a medium sized sliver of wood still lodged inside of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, back heaving with the effort of yet another large sigh before his shoulders slump.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” you’re at his side in an instant, and Yunho stiffens when he feels your fingers touch the back of his arm, your body so close to his side that he can smell your pretty perfume. 

“You got any tweezers in that first aid kit?”

“Let me check,” you respond, setting the red box onto the sink counter. You unzip it quickly and begin looking through the contents, producing the tool a moment later.

“Here.” Yunho holds his right hand out expectantly, and you pass him the tweezers, watching as the tattoo artist carefully brings his wounded appendage close to his face, eyes narrowing with concentration.  

He holds the tweezers with deadly precision, like a doctor - like a tattoo artist - and you suck in a breath when the metal makes contact with his skin-

“Don’t do that,” he scolds, quickly separating his hands in favor of looking down at you. 

“Do what?” you ask.

“Grimace like that,” Yunho states. “Like you’re in pain.”

“But I am in pain,” you tell him, “I'm in pain watching you be in pain, I mean.”

“Well-” Yunho swallows thickly, “your sounds are distracting.”

“I’ll um… I'll try to hold them in.”

It takes every ounce of strength in Yunho’s entire, massive, six foot two tall body not to groan at your words, and he can’t help the images that flash through his mind, images of you pressed to his bed, his cock buried deep in your cunt-

Yunho gives his head a quick shake to snap himself out of it, returning his eyes to his work. 

To your credit, this time when he brings the metal to his skin, deftly latching onto the piece of wood lodged in his knuckle wound, you don’t make a sound. 

He quickly tugs the splinter, removing the whole thing in one go, and then he tosses the tweezers into the sink in favor of grabbing onto the cool bowl with his right hand while he submerges the left again, allowing the cold water to numb away the tingles of pain.

He slumps forward slightly, a sigh of relief finally leaving his lips. 

He’d been so on edge these past few days he’d been ignoring how painful his knuckles had really become- but now that the wood is removed, he already feels at least a little better- which is something, he supposes.

After a moment, Yunho lifts his head, turning to look at you. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I wrecked my hand?”

“I asked you what happened when you came in this morning, and you obviously didn’t want to talk about it then,” you point out, “so I figure, why bother asking again.”

Yunho turns off the sink, grabbing a paper towel to dab the water from his skin. “Have you ever bandaged a hand before?”

“Erm… no?”

“That’s okay,” he discards the tissues in the trash can, making a mental note to remove the trash and give the bathroom a full clean when he’s done with it, not wanting to leave any blood smears in Hongjoong’s pristine parlour, “I’ll walk you through it. But first, can you pass me the disinfectant?”

Yunho already has to hold his right hand across his body towards you on his left, he doesn’t want to also encroach your space even more to reach past your tiny form for the small bottle. 

“This one?” your fingers hover over the disinfectant, and you look at him with the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen in the whole goddamn world, lips parted, waiting for his confirmation.

Yunho makes a sound of affirmation in the back of his throat, and he catches the flash of your pretty smile before you’re looking down again, plucking the bottle out of the first aid kit and passing it to him.

He sets the disinfectant down, holding it steady with his palm while he unscrews the lid with his fingers. 

“Cotton?”

You diligently hand him a white fluff ball - his perfect little nurse - and Yunho presses it to the opening, flipping the bottle upside down to allow the liquid to saturate half of the swab, which he then presses to his knuckles. 

Pain shoots up Yunho’s arm, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, suppressing the feeling to the best of his abilities while cleaning the wound. 

“You made a sound again,” Yunho breathes when the worst is finally over, and he tosses the reddish brown stained cotton into the trash to join the paper towels. 

“Sorry.” 

Yunho turns his body towards you, and he’s pleased by the way you mirror him, whether it be consciously done or not.

“Gonna need some Polysporin and a fresh gauze just to cover it up before we grab the roller bandage,” he tells you. 

You nod, turning your determined little gaze to the first aid kit, where you procure the first two items, then hesitantly grab the white roll of what looks like fabric tape, “this one?”

“Yeah, roller bandage.”

“Roller bandage,” you repeat, setting it down next to the kit next to the gauze in favor of grabbing a Q-tip. “For the Polysporin?”

“Look at you,” Yunho can’t help the lopsided grin that works its way onto his face, “already thinking like a nurse- we should be careful to keep you, or you’ll go find a better job to utilize that brain of yours.” 

“Says you,” you grin, and Yunho enjoys the way you get smaller from the complement, shifting away from him in an attempt to hide your smile while you get the ointment ready. 

When you turn to him again, you have your game face on, and you hold out one hand expectantly.

“What are you doing?” Yunho asks.

“I’m going to put this on your hand,” you respond, sounding shockingly confident after being something near a bashful baby just moments ago. 

“No, you’re going to give me the Qtip, and I’ll do it myself,” Yunho says with just as much conviction.

The two of you stare at each other, unblinking, a battle that Yunho wins within seconds. You hand over the Qtip, and Yunho lifts his knuckles, applying the ointment on his wounds. 

The biggest gash is the worst, but now that Yunho’s sure it’s clean, he’s not too worried about it. There are three more smaller cuts, but the real kicker are the blueish green bruises that blot his already darkly marked skin, obscuring some of the line work that he’d etched there to commemorate the birth year of his mother back when he’d first begun tattooing at age seventeen. 

“Gauze.” Yunho holds his right hand out with his palm up, and a moment later, the soft white fabric is placed there. He applies it to his knuckles, folding the square to fit better. “Now the-”

“Roller bandage,” you finish the tattoo artist’s sentence, presenting the item to him.

“So the first thing i need you to do,” Yunho says, “is start one end of this at the inside of my wrist, we’re gonna wrap it around me twice before crossing it over the top of my hand to my pinkie- got it?” 

“Got it,” you nod. 

He watches with amusement, enjoying the contrast of your tiny hands, which struggle to wrap the fabric around his much larger wrist.

“And now over across the top,” he instructs softly once you’ve finished the first step, repeating himself in case you’d forgotten. “Then under my pinky, back beneath my fingers and up again.”

You follow through diligently, flattening the bandage across the gauze to hold it down on top of his hand before bringing the fabric below his fingers. 

“This time, you’ll cross down to the outside of my wrist, the top of my hand will look like an X.” Yunho watches you do as you’re told, heart thumping excitedly in his chest. “Good job, that’s perfect.”

“Now what?” you ask, looking up at him for further instruction.

“Now you bring the bandage back under my wrist and repeat the process a few times.”

The bathroom falls into a comfortable silence and Yunho continues to watch you work. You take your time, careful to lay the bandage neatly, keeping it flat against his skin so it will be harder to get caught on things. 

As you begin your third wrap of his hand, Yunho finds himself admitting, “I punched a telephone pole about five times.” He’s not even sure why he told you the exact number- he’d been careful to keep it from the others, knowing they’d scold him even harder-

“I’m sure the the stupid telephone pole deserved it,” you respond, and a happy, warm energy thrums through Yunho’s chest. 

“You’re really not going to ask me why I punched a telephone pole?”

Your eyes stay fixed on his hand, which you’re holding so gently with one of your own while adjusting the bandage, and you say, “Again, I'm trying not to be pushy with you. If you want to tell me, you will.”

Yunho considers it for a moment, deciding he better jump all in or not at all. 

“Honestly?” The tall man lets out a breath. “It’s not my place-” he rubs the back of his neck with his good hand, “but I wasn’t that into San and Wooyoung being all touchy with you at the club on Saturday.”

“So that’s why you left early,” you say softly, more to yourself than anything, because the next moment you’re meeting Yunho’s gaze, voice steady, “I wasn’t that into San and Wooyoung being all touchy with me either,” your eyes dip to your work, which is now finished, and Yunho pins the bandage in place, “but you’re not supposed to be into your friends touching you, you know?” 

Despite being done with his hand, you haven’t let it go. You’re still holding it gently with your own, two of your fingers moving delicately across the sliver of exposed skin on Yunho’s palm. The motion is soft, but it still sends jitters of pleasure skittering up Yunho’s arm, and his lips part in shock.

There’s no way he’s making this up, and Yunho knows it. He fights the urge to simply throw you against the wall and have his way with you, forcing himself to be one hundred percent sure- to be slow- 

So instead, he brings his right hand up to cup the side of your face, chest practically exploding when you lean into his touch, eyes closing to show enjoyment, a small, happy, sigh leaving your lips.

All of Yunho’s self control goes out the bathroom window, and before he even knows what he’s really doing, he’s bending down to reach your height, applying the slightest of pressures to the back of your skull to get you to tilt your head up, and he’s pressing his lips to yours. 

You meet his hungry kisses with a fire of your own, letting go of his bandaged hand in favor of wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, shifting closer, tilting your head up more- 

Yunho groans at the feeling of your breasts pressed to his front, and his left hand finds the small of your back, tugging you so you’re flush to his form. His tongue slides against your lip, and you open your mouth for him, a whimpery sound eaten up by the man kissing you like you’re a goddess and he’s a sinner looking for redemption. 

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and your body jolts with surprise.

“One second,” Yunho sighs, annoyance clearly visible in his stormy expression. The hand on the small of your back directs you behind the door, using it to block you from view, and when his hand begins to move away from you, you gently grab it, making sure you can still touch even as he addresses the person in the hallway outside.

“what?” he asks.

“Hongjoong said you hurt your hand,” the smooth voice is easily identifiable to you as belonging to Seonghwa, the more stoic of the two men who own the shop, “do you want me to look at it?”

Yunho gently tugs his bandaged appendage from your grasp, presenting it to Seonghwa, “i’m alright, rewrapped it, should be fine.” 

There’s a few moments of silence, and you hold your breath, unable to take your eyes off of Yunho, who looks so beautiful even in the lighting of the bathroom. His dark hair is tousled, and beautiful skin is marked with copious amounts of patchwork tattoos, thick arms exposed by a black muscle shirt that even gives you a peak at even more artwork etched onto the man who’s been driving you wild for months.

 “Okay, then.” 

“Yeah,” Yunho nods, and a moment later he’s shutting the door, meeting your questioning expression, “What?” 

You shake your head, allowing the large man to collect you in his grasp again, massive hands finding your waist and tugging you to his chest, “it’s just- ‘okay, then’, ‘yeah’, what kind of conversation ender is that?” 

“The kind you give to someone who’s wasting precious time.”

“Wasting precious time?” you cock a brow, smile widening. 

The tattoo artist absentmindedly draws circles against your hips with his fingers. “I have fifteen more minutes before I have to get ready for my next client,” Yunho responds, moving his good hand up to your face again, thumb brushing your cheekbone, “and I have a lot that I want to do in those fifteen minutes.”

“Like what?” you tease, and Yunho lets out a deep hum in response, digit coming down to brush by your bottom lip-

You catch his thumb in your mouth, gently biting at it to ensure he doesn’t pull away before you suckle on his skin, looking the tall tattooist in the eyes while your body thrums with excitement. 

“Would you hate me if I fucked you?” he asks, lifting you up and tossing you onto the sink counter before you can respond, his body between your legs an instant later. “I wanna do this right- I wanna take you out for dinner and to see movies and do the whole nine yards- but right now,” his bandaged hand finds your thigh, pushing your dress up slightly so he can grip your flesh, “I need to make you cum.”

A whimper leaves your throat, and you grab at his strong shoulders to steady yourself. “What about your hand?”

“I can get you off with one,” he promises, leaning into you, lips teasing your neck with small kisses.

“No I mean,” your words catch in your throat when his right hand slips under your dress, two fingers rubbing your entrance through your soaked panties, “what about- what about the blood flow- shouldn’t we keep your hand kind of elevated?”

Yunho chuckles darkly against your throat, then he takes a deep breath, his exhale blanketing your form and bringing goosebumps to your skin, a shiver running through you.

“Fine,” he says, and in an instant, he has both your wrists collected in his bandaged hand and pinned above you to the mirror, “my hand is elevated now, happy?”

“Yunho-” 

Your whimper causes the man in front of you to pull away from your neck, dark eyes fixed on yours. 

“Say it again,” he prompts, pressing his fingers harder to your panty covered cunt, “moan my name.”

“Yunho,” you repeat, pouting your lower lip out, “please- we only have fifteen minutes-”

“Gotta get you ready to take me first,” he tells you, pushing your panties to the side. “You’re already so fucking wet,” he groans, collecting your slick and bringing it up to aid in his attack on your clit, “but I need you to be wetter if you’re going to let me split you open.” 

“Split me open?” you gasp, mind already beginning to turn fuzzy from his ministrations. “You’re-” you stifle a moan when he pushes a finger into you, “you-”

“I’m six foot one, princess, all of me is big,” he chuckles, slipping a second digit into your core, stretching you out for him. He brings his lips to your neck again, then goes up to your ear, nipping at your lobe in a way that feels almost playful, “Normally, I'd show you, but we don’t have the time, so you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

“Yunho?” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes when he works his fingers up, working you closer and closer to the edge-

He presses a small kiss to your neck before pulling back to look at you, “Yes, gorgeous?”

“I wanna touch you,” you whine.

He grins, and looks to be considering it-

You can’t help but continue to beg, blurting out, “please, I’ve been-” you whimper from his fingers still working inside of you, “for months- please- i wanna-”

“For months?”

Yunho’s fingers come to a stop inside of you and you whine at the loss- only for him to shut you up with a hungry kiss. 

He releases your right hand from where it was pinned above you, and you immediately latch onto the front of his shirt, pulling him closer with just as much ferocity- but he’s immovable, and you only succeed in pulling yourself closer towards him, the one hand still captured above your head limiting the distance you can go-

He laughs against your lips, shaking his head slightly. “Fuck, you’re so needy-” he groans, pulling his fingers from your wet heat. 

Yunho releases you fully, only to tug you off the sink. You land on shaky feet, and he flips you around, pressing your hips against the piece of furniture you’d just been seated on, one hand pushing you forward so you’re bent over. 

You feel him grab the bottom of your dress, and he lifts the fabric, letting it rest on your upper body while you adjust the way you’re propped on the sink table, arching your back in an effort to get to him- 

“Cute panties,” he tells you, pushing them to the side for the second time in a few minutes. His thumb finds your clit. “Ready, baby?”

You nod, listening to him undo his belt with one hand, shoving his jeans down- 

“Please-”

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, and he coats it in your slick before slipping it in- both of you groaning at the way your walls tighten around just the tip of his cock-

“You’re making sounds again,” Yunho says gruffly, and you laugh a little at how this is the same man who’d scolded you earlier. He reaches and turns the sink on, creating a noise to muffle any sounds that escape either of you. “We can't let the others hear your pretty moans, no matter how much I'd like to have you screaming my name. We’ll have to save that for after work.” 

He tugs you up so you’re still half standing, hands finding the sink bowl while he practically sits you onto his cock- at the same time, he wraps his newly, pristinely bandaged hand to cup your face, two fingers pushing past your lips to stifle the moan that immediately bubbles inside of you. 

You’d been so worked up from his fingers, and now to have him fully push into you- digits in your mouth, right hand on your hip anchoring you while he begins to thrust into your pussy-

You cum hard.

Your core clamps down on Yunho’s cock, which he pushes fully into you, holding it there- 

“Look at my pretty baby cumming already,” he says fondly in your ear, and you meet his eyes through the bathroom mirror, pussy continuing to flutter around his massive cock while your orgasm teeters- 

You can feel your sticky panties against your leg, pressed between your body and Yunho’s which is flush to your ass- 

Another wave of euphoria washes through you, which makes the man behind you laugh, shaking his head before picking up his motions again. “Keep squeezing me princess,” he says, voice low while he thrusts into you harder. 

“Where should I cum?” he asks, taking his digits out of your mouth for you to be able to respond.

You stifle a whine from the loss of his big hand- 

“I'm on the pill, cum inside-” you tell him, “Fill me up-”

“Fill you up?” Yunho grins behind you, and you’re almost happy you’re seeing his smile through the reflection in the mirror, because you think maybe you’d be blinded by beauty if you saw it up close- 

He’s so fucking hot-

The tattoo artist leans close to your ear, “Does my pretty girl have a breeding kink?”

Of course you do- because you’d seen Yunho every time a client comes in with a child, and you’d seen the way he’d draw pretty tattoos in markers on their arms to make them smile. You’d seen the way he interacts with kids even if they aren’t technically with his clients, and you’d seen his stash of lollipops, that you only ever see him whip out when a kid is around-

There was no way to be near Yunho, to be interested in Yunho, and to not have a breeding kink- and you’d fight any girl who said otherwise-

But instead of verbalizing any of this, all you’re able to whimper out is a meek “please?”

And it’s enough for him, because a moment later he’s burying his face in your shoulder and groaning, hips rutting wildly against you while his bandaged hand slips under your arm and criss crosses your chest, grasping your breast through your dress and pinning you to him, the other hand slipping between your legs to find your clit-

You’re still so sensitive from your first orgasm… and a half? And a- wonderful orgasm echo? Regardless of it being one or two orgasms you’ve already had- it’s easier than ever for Yunho to tear another from you, and your walls once again tighten on his cock while you bite into your lip to stop any sounds from escaping you.

The man behind you literally shivers, whole body shaking momentarily, a deep groan leaving him after as he grips you tighter, nearly crushing your smaller body before he’s letting up a little, panting against your neck, hips stopped but fingers still working you through your high-

When you’re both done, he removes his hand from between your legs.

You’re both panting, breathing muffled by the water that’s still running. 

Yunho presses a tender kiss to your shoulder blade before pulling away from your back.

Your body misses his heat- and his cock. 

“Okay,” he sighs, and you watch him in the mirror, the tattoo artist looking around the bathroom, attention lingering on the trash can, “I have two minutes to clean you, and this, all up-”

“It’s okay,” you say, “I can take care of myself. You have your one thirty client to prep for.” 

“Are you sure?” Yunho watches the way you pull your panties back in place, and he licks his lips at the thought that you might be planning to keep his cum inside of you for the rest of the day- 

“You can give me aftercare tonight, yeah?”

“I have to at least take out the trash-”

“You need to go get some water and probably a banana or something to eat- neither of us had lunch on our lunch breaks, and you have to eat,” you tell him, turning to look at the tall man who you’ve watched for months- you know his patterns, know his needs. “I still have fifteen minutes on break, trust me, I'll be fine.”

Yunho cups your face, and you nuzzle against his large palm, smiling when he kisses you. 

“Think about where you want to go for dinner, yeah?”

“I will,” you promise.

For a moment he simply looks at you, eyes flickering down to your lips before he gives you one final kiss. He doesn’t say anything else, and he doesn’t really need to, the two of you had said enough in the heat of it all to understand that your feelings are mutual, and as you watch the gorgeous tattoo artist leave the bathroom, you think of all the ways you’d love for him to paint your skin.

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© smileysuh — all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed

[technofantasia]

coffee shop AU, enemies to lovers, fake dating, high school AU, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, soulmates, time loop 🤔🤨🤔

(In response to this)

OOOO ooo ooo ooo this is many!! :D

But okay letsgo >:3

Coffee shop AU: Eh, C. Coffee shop AUs feel like the least interesting kind of domestic AU to me for some reason. Like, I won't AVOID them? But I feel like the author needs to really try to make it great. On its own, it falls a bit flat. Maybe because I don't tend to go to coffee shops myself, so it's not relatable...? Also whenever I do, I don't talk to the person working there. Like, they're doing their job, I don't want to bother them. Do most people have conversations with their baristas? idk maybe it's just because I'm not social. Either way, I think it's ok. A bit bland unless the author does something special with it.

Enemies to lovers: Honestly? D. I do not care for it at all. I like the fluffy stuff! Enemies to FRIENDS to lovers, I could get behind, but you CANNOT skip the intermediary step there. Otherwise, it's like, what is the relationship even based on, y'know? If they just flip from hating each other to being all lovey-dovey. Kismesisitude and non-hs relationships like it are another thing, and I do really like that, but only when it's done right, and it usually isn't. IT'S ABOUT THE MUTUAL TRUST AND ADMIRATION OKAY!! NOT THE RANDOM OUT OF THE BLUE LOVEY-DOVEY STUFF >:0

Fake dating: B! I can get behind it. It really allows for some great character interaction opportunities, all based around the premise of what you show to the world vs. what you actually feel, and how those feed into each other (which is a great hook). You get that good good private relationship and public relationship dynamic, until they inevitably collide!! Lots of fluff or hurt/comfort opportunity there as well. I don't tend to read a lot of it, but whenever I see it for characters I care about, it can be nice.

HIgh school AU: C. My interest in high school AUs plummeted after leaving high school, surprisingly enough. They're okay, to be sure, but the usual fare relies on a kind of rose-tinted glasses view of high school that I can't imagine anyone being able to slip into after going through it themself. It really depends on the fandom, though; some sets of characters work really well put into that kind of a structured social ecosystem, but for others, it just kind of feels limiting.

Hurt/Comfort: YESSSS YES YES SOLID A NO QUESTION. My drug of choice!! THIS is where the heart of fandom lies, in my humble opinion. It's alllll about putting characters in bad situations, and seeing the other characters help them out, be it physically or emotionally! Mostly because, while that kind of thing is central to the construction of any kind of story, most canons don't spend much time exploring the aftermath of the hurt they inflict. It would take up too much time. BUT it's exactly that aftermath that holds the deepest depths of the characters' emotions!! As fandomgoers, then, it is our duty, nay, PRIVILEGE to uncover those depths via exploring that hurt in the ways the original author didn't! And also sometimes creating new hurts in order to get to that same place of vulnerability, that works too. The best fandom trope, either way.

Hurt/No Comfort: Ooooh this can be great too. Another A. While the purpose of Hurt/Comfort is to use the characters' vulnerabilities to experience catharsis, Hurt/No Comfort (or angst? whump? all names for similar things) is all about a different kind of catharsis. It's to say, "what if the worst happened? what then?", and exploring that for a while, since the characters' true depths always come out the clearest in their darkest hour; then, you can come back from that, appreciate the fact that the worst HASN'T come to pass, and also appreciate the characters in a new, more meaningful light. When you're in the mood for it, that's the gooood shit.

Soulmates: F. Straight up. This is probably my most unpopular fandom opinion, but I hate soulmate AUs. It takes away all the interesting parts of a ship, waters it down into uninteresting, out of character, amatonormative nonsense, and flavors it all with shallow worldbuilding that falls apart into dystopia if you think about it for more than two seconds. Like... I understand WHY people like it. If you just want an excuse for your favorite characters to have a meaningful-feeling, adorable meet-cute, okay! Yeah, it allows for that. But if you care about ANYTHING deeper, soulmate AUs destroy that by its very premise. They don't allow for depth, because when you try to take the concept deeper, you start running into essential problems; things like "what if they ever have an argument? its not like they can ever split up. what kind of pressures might that inherent fact put on their relationship?" or "if these two characters MET knowing that they would be romantic partners, wouldn't that completely change their relationship? would their dynamic even be close to what drew me to them in the first place?" or "wouldn't a world where everyone spends their lives looking for their "soulmate", before meeting them and then not being able to leave that person no matter what happens, be fucking terrible? that sounds like a BREEDING GROUND for abuse." Not to mention that, as an arospec person myself, the idea of "everyone has one person who is made for them, who completes them" just feels... slimy. I can't enjoy it. No shade to people who do, obviously, but it makes me VERY uncomfortable. I have a whole big rant about soulmate AUs that I've touched on the basic points of here but I won't go into it any more than this, because hoo boy, this is already getting pretty long.

Time Loop: AAAAA YES I LOVE TIME LOOPS!!!! A, for sure. It's the PERFECT hurt/comfort and/or angst setup, with a heavy focus on character development. How will the character first react to being in a loop? What do they do? How do they feel? All with that slow rise in desperation, as their personal problems just keep compounding and compounding with the knowledge that, in order for anything to change, THEY have to be the one to do it.... aaaaa its such a good scenario!!! GUARANTEED to bring out the most juicy parts of the character, I love it.

And noooow we are done!! That was very long. But thank you so much for asking, I have so many thoughts all the time lol :P

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 25/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle gets contemplative about her future with Weaver.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #6: Is that my shirt? This is a bit of filler that only vaguely progresses the plot, but it's necessary to setup Belle's frame of mind for what's to come. Also an excuse to write more flirty idiots because how could I not with that prompt?

[AO3]  

The next day, Belle was still riding high on the revelation that Charlie Dunn, the second victim, was also adopted from Nevada.

She woke up early, and was already working and on her second cup of coffee when Weaver finally rolled out of bed around seven. Whatever had been causing her headaches and weird stomach issues, seemed to have left as suddenly as it came, which reinforced her belief that it was a mild bug from something she ate.

It was essential that they obtain the rest of the birth records on the victims as well as the Tremaines’ foster children. She spent most of the morning filling out request forms for the Clark County Clerk’s Office, one for each victim, one for Eloise, and one for her husband. They probably hated her by now, but if things panned out the way she thought they would, she would buy the whole office lunch on her. Her afternoon consisted of making inquiries locally for whatever birth records were available on the other victims. That had yielded little so far, aside from confirming that three more had been born out of state.

Weaver pushed the office door open, and Belle looked up from her laptop.

“We found Eloise Tremaine’s apartment,” he announced, walking over to the desk as he took off his leather jacket.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted. “Where? How?”

He set down a piece of scrap paper with an address on it in Detective Rogers’ handwriting. “Here, and it really helps once you know the victim’s actual name, and the name of the company that actually pays for the apartment.”

She frowned. “What company?”

Weaver dropped down into one of the chairs opposite her. “Robert Tremaine’s. Perrault Developments, Inc.” Belle’s frown deepened, and he continued, “which he inherited from his uncle, James Perrault.”

“Why do I know that name?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m told it’s the name of the French guy who wrote Cinderella.”

Her face went through several expressions before she shook her head. “I’m surprised that you know that.”

He laughed. “I don’t. Rogers’s Googled the name and half the results were for Charles Perrault.”

Her lips curled. “So you two fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole on your way to finding our victim’s residence?���

“Something like that.” He stretched a bit and rolled his shoulders, no doubt stiff from a whole day of driving around the city. “Anyway, the apartment was in the name of the company, and it never came up in any of our inquiries for missing renters, because the rent was still being paid.”

Belle leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. “By a dead woman?”

“By an offshore account.”

“Of course.” She sighed. “Well, that explains why we couldn’t find any credit history on Eloise if she’s been living off the company money, and paying everything in cash or with the company account.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ve got enough now to get all the information we want on Tremaine’s business. Maybe there’s some other connections to our victims from that.”

She picked up the paper with the address and did a quick search to see what part of the city it was in while he was talking. “Do we have access to the apartment yet?”

“Rogers is working on it. The landlord has already been notified, but he’s being a stickler for having the warrant before he lets us in.”

“Good for him, I guess.” Belle sighed again, and then pushed back from the desk. “I filled all the requests with Clark County, and found almost nothing locally for birth records. Damon, Chelsea, and Melissa, were all born out of state, but I don’t know where yet.”

“That’s something, though,” he said, trying to be encouraging. He knew how much she hated the tedium of paperwork and formal requests. “By next week we should have all of the records back, if not sooner. And tomorrow we get to see how Eloise Gardener lived.”

“I want to go with you.” She met his eyes with a stern look to let him know she was serious and would not be left back at the office while he and Rogers rooted through Eloise’s apartment. “I want to be there.”

He nodded in understanding. “Should have the warrant before lunch.” Then he smiled. “I think that’s enough for now. Ready to call it a day?”

She smiled back, already bending down to pull out her purse. “Yes please.”

He stood and lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “I was thinking I’d make alfredo tonight.”

Pausing with her purse strap hanging awkwardly from her hand and one arm in her coat, Belle looked at him wide eyed, starting to smile. “That’s my favorite.”

Weaver licked his lips. “I know.”

Belle sighed and closed her eyes as her head fell forward, letting the hot water run down over her neck and shoulders.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she loved this shower. The bathroom had been a huge selling point when they first looked at the apartment, though that seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been too easy to settle back into a routine with Weaver, and while there had certainly been solace in the familiar, especially in the aftermath of being attacked in her own home, there was still apprehension. The conversation over the state of their relationship had never really taken place, and both of them seemed loath to rock the boat while so much was happening with the case, but she had been exploring her thoughts on the matter more and more.

Her session with Dr. Hopper had touched on it as well, and Archie had openly asked her if she wanted to reconcile officially with Ian. That was the penultimate question of course, and leave it to Archie to skip any formalities or attempts to ease into the topic. He knew her too well. Still, the idea made her smile.

A few months ago it would have earned a glare or a door slam, and a firm contradiction, so this was, by any standard, a great deal of progress.

Belle finished her shower and exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel. As she padded across the floor to the bedroom, Weaver glanced up from his laptop with a raised eyebrow and let out a low whistle. She threw him a look before she stepped into the bedroom and heard him chuckling as she closed the door.

Her skin felt tingly and warm, and she knew it was from more than just the water. The last couple of weeks she’d found herself almost distracted by her attraction to Weaver, and the pleasing banter and light teasing they had established between them only made it worse. She had to admit that he was different now than he’d been when they were first together, though she was uncertain what it meant. It made her want to stay, to get back together officially, in a way that left no doubt for either of them. But it also made her want to do all manner of naughty things.

Smiling to herself, she pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajama shorts and started digging in one of her bags for a shirt. Most of her work things were back in the closet, but with only one dresser, her casual clothes were relegated to a suitcase and two duffel bags. Frowning as she pulled out everything except what she was looking for, she reached into the inside pocket of the bag and pulled out something unexpected.

A small black box tumbled to the floor, and she hesitated for a long moment before picking it up.

Belle sat on the edge of the bed and swallowed hard, running her thumb back and forth over the soft velvet. She knew what was inside, but she hadn’t looked at it in a long time. With the way she’d been feeling towards Weaver lately, she wasn’t sure she should, fearful that it might bring up the wrong memories. Closing her eyes for a second, she flipped the box open.

The diamond sparkled even in the low light from the lamp on the nightstand.

She plucked it free, turning it this way and that, and making small shapes on the floor when it caught the light just right. Holding the band, she slid the tip of her finger in and out of the ring, feeling the smooth, cool metal. Before, in the weeks and months immediately after their divorce, she would take it out every now and then, and look at it. It usually resulted in her having a good cry and stress eating an entire sleeve of Oreos. She’d only brought it with her from her apartment because it was with her other jewelry, and though she’d known it was packed into one of the bags, it had been put out of her mind.

On impulse, she pushed it over her knuckle and settled it on the appropriate finger. Her hand flexed as she admired it, pleased that it still fit perfectly and didn’t look to be in any need of cleaning. She expected it to feel strange, since she rarely ever wore rings before she was married, and hadn’t on that finger since their separation. Bracelets and rings had always bothered her when she had to type or write, and throughout university and law school she was forever taking them off and putting them in her bag, finding them days later. But this ring had never been a hindrance, and she barely even noticed it as she worked. It wasn’t heavy or gaudy, and it didn't have so many facets and points as to snag her clothes.

Shaking her head, she quickly pulled it off and set it back in the box, and put the box back in the inside pocket where it had been before going back to looking for her nightshirt. Strangely, she kept looking down at her hand as she rummaged through the laundry basket. After being on her finger for only a minute or so, it made no sense that her hand would be missing the ring’s presence.

With a huff, she gave up trying to find the shirt that matched her shorts, and turned around to look for something else to wear, when her eyes landed on something of Weaver’s that had been mixed in with her laundry. She picked up his very faded and well worn Celtic Football Club shirt, and immediately pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft from years of wear and washing. It might have been her imagination, but even though it was clean there was the faintest hint of his scent on it and she pulled it up to her nose and inhaled.

Smiling, she opened the door and stood there, leaning against the doorframe until she was noticed.

“Is that my shirt?” Weaver asked, setting the laptop down on the coffee table.

Belle shrugged one shoulder and sauntered towards him, letting her desire add an extra sway to her hips. “Is it? It was in the laundry basket with my things.”

“Hmm, was it…” he said, leaning back on the sofa as a grin curved his lips. “Maybe that’s because you’re always stealing it.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you accusing me of a crime, Detective?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching her step around the coffee table to stand in front of him.

“Do you want it back?” she asked, putting one knee on the sofa beside his hip.

“No,” Weaver replied, licking his lips. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

She brought her other knee down and straddled him, holding her body away from his. He held her waist, already bunching the shirt as she leaned over him. “Too bad.”

"Why's that?"

She felt his hands slide down to her backside and then up, lifting the shirt as his palms moved up her back. His hips shifted forward, and she allowed him to pull her down just a little as a low ache settled in her core.

Her lips brushed his, teasing him with the wet heat of her breath. “I was going to tell you to come and take it.”

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part Eleven: Exacting Revenge

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten

Word count: 2606

Trigger warnings: Needles, drowning

I know that I've written Arkham in this story is very different from the movie; it's part of the AU. It's mostly for atmosphere and aesthetic. Sorry if it's confusing, I like the thought of them sneaking around; it's kinda cute, isn't it? Sneaky little monsters? Plus, like, in the movie, they just go through a door, and the whole setup is just...there???? Where anyone with a key could just stroll in? That makes no sense to me; I had to change it for my own edification.

The trick to staving off impatience is to make yourself forget about whatever you're waiting for. Or at least, that was what got Elianna through the week. She had pushed the plan so far to the corners of her mind that the day of, she had forgotten that it had finally arrived.

Of course, once it did resurface on her radar, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

Paperwork finished, and nothing left to do but wait, Elianna found herself bored, playing the pre-programmed solitaire on her desktop office computer. No one else was left in the facility besides the night orderlies, security, and the inmates, so when Jonathan knocked on the door, she buzzed him in without question, eyes still focused on the screen in front of her.

He came in, closing the door behind him, and when she didn't greet him straight away, he walked around to her side of the desk to see what she was looking at. She just needed a place for the three of spades, and everything else would fall into place, but she was about to give up on it when Jonathan reached over and took the mouse from her, finishing the board in a few clicks.

"I hate you." El put her face in her hands, annoyed at having missed the clear space for the card.

"Thank you. Are you ready?" She nodded and shut off the dinosaur of a computer and gathered her things.

"Is there anything I should know before we do this? Anything you need from me?"

"No, all you need to do is watch, but you can administer the serum if you'd like." He pushed his glasses up his nose as they stepped into the hallway.

"I think I'd rather watch you do it the first time, just to get an idea of what to expect. Where are we going?"

"Service elevator goes to the basement. And that's fine, just don't report me."

"I'm afraid you're stuck with me." El pushed on the door to ensure that it was locked, a habit she had developed to make sure that Zsasz couldn't be waiting in her office for her when she returned.

"Damn," Jonathan replied with dry sarcasm before, "ow," when she smacked him on the arm as they started walking for the service elevator. "If you're going to hit me, can't you at least pretend that you don't want to hurt me?"

"Yeah, yeah. Maybe I'll be your bodyguard when people show up outside your apartment with pitchforks and torches."

"I'll hold you to that." He pressed the 'down' button to call the elevator and, once inside, produced a key to allow them access to the basement. "That woman from the DA's office, Rachel Dawes, seems to think I'm up to something; maybe you should track her down."

"You are up to something." El reminded him as the elevator began its descent.

"She doesn't know that. She just happens to be right." Elianna laughed softly and followed him into the dingy hallway when the doors reopened. He led her into the third closet on the left and shut the door behind them.

"Hey, this reminds me." She chimed up, and Jonathan squinted at her through the darkness. "If we don't start having sex, Harley is going to be really disappointed in us."

"Oh my God," he muttered, and she laughed as she followed him to the back of the closet.

"Yeah, that's basically what I said. I just thought it was funny. What are you doing?" Jonathan was pushing aside a stack of mattresses leaned against the wall, revealing a loose panel, which he removed and gestured for her to step in first. "Seriously?" He gave her a confused look, to which she sighed in conceit and walked through to the other side of the wall, muttering something about cliches. "Why is this even here?"

Well," Jonathan cleared his throat and stepped through after her, replacing the panel. "This place has been around for a couple of hundred years, and as you know, asylums used to be a place to shove people that society didn't want to deal with. They renovated a few decades ago but never actually got rid of these old chambers, just walled them off. In fact, they even had it soundproofed. I haven't been able to figure out why, but it's convenient. Believe it or not, I'm not the first doctor with cause to mistreat patients; I think whoever was in charge during that renovation probably wasn't the best person either." El nodded in understanding, and they went down a short flight of iron stairs, which took them around one last corner.

Elianna slowed at the tableau before her. Zsasz was strapped to an old transport dolly by the neck, abdomen, wrists, and ankles, clearly agitated by how he squirmed.

"How...how did you get him down here?"

"Well, those guards that were in the room with you that day felt bad about what happened and took the opportunity to make it up to you."

"The stairs?" She turned around and looked at them, then back at Zsasz.

"He was moved here on the dolly. It's my understanding that he didn't particularly enjoy being wheeled down the stairs." Jonathan put his hand on El's back and guided her all the way into the spacious...What would you even call this? A torture chamber?

When they came all the way into view, Zsasz finally noticed them. The way his voice washed over Elianna was all too familiar and reminiscent of something cold and scaley, like a dead fish, but this time she was able to brush off the sensation. She held the power here.

"Doctor Montgomery! Have you come to conduct our next session? I think we're really starting to make progress." The deranged man laughed as he struggled harder against the leather cuffs; as they approached, El could see that they were reinforced.

"Mister Zsasz, you'll be helping me with an experiment tonight. Doctor Montgomery is here as a witness, and I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from speaking to her." Jonathan interjected before El could say anything.

***

For the first time, Zsasz seemed uneasy, and his eyes followed Jonathan's briefcase as he set it on a nearby table, unlatched it, and then revealed a false bottom. "I do hope that you aren't uncomfortable with needles," he continued as he produced a syringe and a vial of stale-looking, yellowish liquid. "Usually, I would prefer to use a gaseous form of this compound, but I'm afraid I only have one gas mask with me, and Doctor Montgomery and I are both very interested in seeing the results of this experiment." Jonathan monologued as he prepared the syringe.

El moved to sit on the table next to the briefcase setup, and Zsasz made sharp eye contact with her, and she felt a chill run down her spine for the first time in days. She found that she had almost missed the feeling as she held his glassy stare with one of her own. A vision of him in a few minutes writhing against his restraints, screaming until his lungs filled with blood suddenly appeared in her mind, and the thought made her smile involuntarily.

Zsasz, on the other hand, hadn't been expecting for her to smile and frowned uneasily, making a more desperate attempt to wriggle out of the restraints as he returned his attention to what Jonathan was doing, which was to take a voice recorder out of his case, switch it on and begin speaking into it.

"Serum fifteen, experiment one. Subject name: Victor Zsasz," he spoke into the receiver before setting on the table and advancing on Zsasz, not bothering to sterilize the injection site. El leaned forward to watch the injection, fascinated to see what would happen next.  

Jonathan stepped away from the dolly, and already Zsasz was visibly shuddering and straining against the cuffs holding him in place. El got to her feet and slowly moved closer to examine the effects.

"How does it work?" She asked, observing the way Zsasz's eyes flitted about the room as his breathing intensified. Behind her, Jonathan smiled at her curiosity before explaining.

"The serum introduces higher glucose levels in the bloodstream. Once it reaches the brain,  the compound amps up the output of cortisol, glutamate, and adrenaline to the amygdala. In addition to that, the flower I told you about naturally produces a high concentration of a powerful hallucinogenic compound. Altogether, it causes the brain to go into a state of terror and hallucinate things they fear. The aerosolized version works faster, but you don't have a mask, so it should kick in any time now."

Just as Jonathan finished his explanation, Zsasz began screaming. Closer to howling actually, a haunting, inhuman sound that made Elianna furrow her brow as Jonathan spoke quietly into his voice recorder. El leaned closer to Zsasz's face to further assess his experience. His eyes shifted to her face with dilated pupils, and a look of horror overtook his face, all the while screaming and pulling at his cuffs so hard that she was surprised that he hadn't dislocated anything yet.

"What is he seeing?" El inquired, pulling away from the screaming, terrified maniac before her. Jonathan brought the voice recorder closer, now standing next to her.

"Mr. Zsasz, would you mind telling us what you see?" The howling and thrashing gave way to paranoid muttering and sudden, jerking movements as if he could catch the restraints off guard and trick them into releasing him.

"Get it out, get it out of here," Zsasz demanded in a desperate voice through gritted teeth, repeating it over and over. Jonathan frowned slightly, retreating to his briefcase and removing a burlap mask, at which Elianna couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Was that Scarecrow, or do you still have a fixation on the one that was out on your property?"

"Where do you think Scarecrow came from, El?" He retorted distractedly as he removed his glasses and put on the mask, crossing back over to Zsasz. "Tell me what you see, Victor." He ordered again, looming over the scarred man.

"Get it out!" Zsasz screamed again in response.

"I can't take it away unless you tell me what it is," Jonathan's voice had become low and impatient; he must be trying really hard to keep Scarecrow back since I'm here. Zsasz looked Jonathan, or rather the mask, in the eyes—eyeholes?—and his breathing grew even louder as he ground his teeth.

"Don't you see it? The water! It's rising so quickly; you have to get it out if here, or we'll all drown!" The thought of drowning causes Zsasz to begin hyperventilating.

"Aquaphobia," El mused, leaning back in. "Does that stem from your parents' accident, Victor? They died on a boat if I'm not mistaken." The desperate screaming resumed, and El observed as it was interrupted by a coughing sputter, as though he were trying not to drown. That's interesting. Zsasz's mind had produced such a life-like delusion of rising water that his body was reacting as though it were really there, and all the while, Jonathan had taken the mask off and was speaking quickly and quietly into his recording device.

After only a few more minutes, Zsasz's gasping breaths and twitching slowed and eventually stopped as his head lolled to the side. Jonathan checked his pulse to assess whether or not he was dead.

***

"Subject has fallen unconscious at," Jonathan took a moment from his notes to check his watch, "twenty-five minutes." He switched off the device and turned to replace all of his equipment into his case, returning his glasses to his face.

"Twenty-five? Really?" Elianna took one last look at Zsasz's unconscious, vulnerable face. "Didn't feel that long."

"No, because you enjoyed it, you should have seen your face," Jonathan informed in a light voice as he relatched his case and tilted his head for her to walk with him back up the stairs. "Eyes all lit up-"

"Look who's talking. What's with that mask?"

"Some subjects react more strongly to it. It makes them more likely to cooperate."

"I guess that makes sense...hey, are we just leaving him down here?"

"The guards will take him back up when they see us leave; no one else will ever know." He reassured her and went first through the panel, pushing the spare mattresses back over it once they were both out. "Are you hungry? We can pick up something to eat on the way home." El hummed in response.

They emerged from the bowels of Arkham and were approaching the car when a sudden thought struck her. "Are you afraid of anything?" Jonathan looked down at her, face impassive, and opened the passenger door for her, moving to the driver's side once she was in.

"Just Granny," he finally replied after closing and locking the door.

"That's it?" She got a nod in response.

"In the early stages of the project, I hadn't figured out the system for test subjects yet, so I had to test it on myself. I had to learn to push down many things to record the results reliably, and eventually, I had done it so much that none of the other things even made an appearance anymore. I still get hallucinations of things that are traditionally 'scary,' but I get none of the accompanying physical symptoms."

"So, controlled, repeated exposure to the toxin can slowly start to eliminate your fear response?"

"It's either that, or it's possible to build up somewhat of an immunity to the toxin, which I think is more likely," Jonathan commented and finally started the car. They drove in silence for a few minutes, and Elianna found herself once again trying to make a life-changing decision.

"Do you think it would work on me?" The question catches Jonathan off-guard enough to tear his eyes away from the road for a moment to give her a look of surprise.

"Are you asking me to dose you?"

"I think I am, as long as you think it's safe." He sucked in a deep breath, his face stern, and Elianna fell silent to let him think.

"It could work, but we'll use the original formula just in case. It's the one I've tested the most, so there's less of a risk."

"Then let's do it." She said without hesitation. If there was one thing she had learned over the last week, it was that there was no use in resisting her impulses. Jonathan nodded slowly. Every day was becoming more interesting than the last with her around again, and he had the feeling that that wouldn't change any time soon.

[linskywords]

Why Hockey RPF?

Hey friends! This is a question I've been thinking about for a while, and I finally put together a list of my answers. Caveat that this is me attempting to analyze my own psychology and so may be very incomplete and/or wrong. :)

First, the general "why slash?" bits. These apply across fandoms (though I think some are extra strong in hockey, as I'll get to below).

One. Going against the script. I cannot stress enough how important this is to me in a romance. You know that thing where a man and a woman are in the same room together in a movie, so you know they're the love interests and they will kiss at the end? I hate that. It makes me feel like their love is probably fake. If they feel like they're supposed to be attracted to each other, and then they are attracted to each other, it probably isn't real attraction at all. Says my brain, anyway. If they feel like this person is not at all someone they could EVER be attracted to, and they're attracted anyway...it is instantly, like, fifty thousand times hotter to me. Works way better with gender for me than with other stuff that's traditionally been used in romance, like social class.

Two. Freedom from typical romantic gender roles. This has been said a lot, but: gender roles in romance SUCK. (They suck in most places. But romance really has a lot of them.) It's hard to grow up in a Western culture and not have an extremely conflicted relationship with them: you've been trained to find certain behaviors romantic, but you've also learned enough about feminism to question whether all of them are healthy or smart, and it's hard to write a satisfying romance when you're caught in the tangle of being drawn to the thing but also wondering if maybe you shouldn't be. It's so much easier for me to indulge my idtastic desires when I don't even have to think about whether I should be having the woman be the one taken care of, or if that makes her weak, so I should swap their roles, but then if she takes care of the guy does that mean she's doing all the work in the relationship and he's a giant man-baby...you see how that would bog you down. If both characters are men -- or women, or nonbinary -- it's easier to give them whatever roles I want without having to think about whether I'm furthering my own oppression.

Three. Getting to live in bodies that aren't our own. The previous point about gender roles can apply to femslash, too, and as a bi woman, I can get into that -- but sometimes it's better not to have to think about my own gender in the equation at all. There's so much crap associated with being a woman in our world, especially when it comes to sexuality. It can be liberating to write sex scenes when no bodies like mine are part of it even a little and you just don't have to negotiate the crap at all. This isn't an absolute for me -- I do write and enjoy femslash -- but I write way more slash than femslash, and I think this is part of it.

Four. Humanizing men. This is a big thing in a society (such as mine) where the best men are supposedly the ones who most embody a toxic masculinity where they don't experience normal human vulnerability or feelings. We're supposed to admire these men, and fall in love with them, and raise children with them (some of us), and it's so easy to resent and fear them instead. It is both satisfying and healing to portray men who are full of need and hurt and longing and love. Like, you know, humans are.

Five. Giving our desires power. In my culture, and in many others, men are the ones whose desires have power. A man wants a woman who doesn't want him back? He just needs to pursue her harder; she'll come around in the end, and if she doesn't, she's a heartless bitch. A woman wants a man who doesn't want her back? She's pathetic. Her desire makes her ridiculous. If you're a women who desires men, or who desires anyone at all, it's so humiliating to see your own desires minimalized and stripped of power like that. So if we want to write about our desires -- our desires for men, in particular -- it can be very satisfying to give those desires to another man. Those desires have POWER, then. They're legitimized. They have agency. We can revel in them without doubting our own right to have them.

So that's slash in general. Wow, there was a lot in there about cutting through the tangle of internalized patriarchy, wasn't there? Funny, that.

Hockey, though. Why hockey, amidst the many possible slash fandoms? Why did I start reading hockey RPF without ever having seen a game and fall for it so hard?

Six. The heteronormativity. And to take it a step further: the pressure in general to present yourself to the world as a certain type of person. I've written before about how a huge part of the appeal of the hockey world to me is the immense pressure it puts on its players -- which plays into the thing above about going against scripts, because the heteronormative script is extra in effect when it comes to professional sports, but it's not just that. These guys are under such a spotlight, and in exchange for their privilege and wealth they not only have to keep performing at an elite level that's hard to maintain, but they also have to force themselves into such a narrow, publicly acceptable mold. I'm not an athlete, so I can't relate to that specific set of pressures, but that makes them even more satisfying to write about. I can write about my feelings about the pressures that are on me -- the unwritten societal expectation to be important, successful, happy in easily recognized ways -- without having to think about those specific pressures, because I can substitute these ones instead.

Seven. Validation. I wrote above about giving our desires to men so that the desires have more power. In this case, it's giving the desires to successful, competent, famous people so that the desires have validity -- because the people who hold them have validity. Hockey players have the kind of prestigious, easily-recognized-at-cocktail-parties-and-high-school-reunions type of success that so many of us feel on one level or another than we should have, and they have it so unquestionably. When someone like that experiences a type of neediness I might feel -- the desperate longing for another person to notice them, the extreme obsession that comes with a crush, the miserable sureness that the person they want won't want them back -- that feeling is automatically valid, because THEY are valid. As someone who has felt a lot of longing in my life, I really enjoy exploring it in characters who have an automatic get-out-of-worthlessness free card.

So those are the navel-gazing ones, where hockey does the same kind of thing your average slash fandom does, but sometimes to a greater degree. Then there are the amazing storytelling benefits of the setting:

Eight. Team. Oh, team. Friends to lovers is my jam. I love writing characters who've spent so much time with someone, they don't even realize when their feelings for the other person cross the line from friendship to something else. This must be what friendship is, because it's what I feel for X person, who is my friend! And then the joy, of course, of having to see that person every day once you realize it isn't just friendship, and you're being tortured by knowing they'll never want you back (or so you think). Add in the thing where you and this person are fighting for something together every other day, where your successes bolster each other's, where your chemistry can mean the success of the team, and if you have a falling out (say, over someone's inappropriate crush) it could ruin your careers and the team's success...I mean, how do you resist a setup like that?

Nine. The flexibility of the setting. One of the wonderful things about hockey is that there's so much of it. If you want to set a story during a homestand, you can. If you want a road trip, you can find one. The season is seven months long, plus playoffs, and during those months you can set a story anytime and know that your characters will be seeing each other every day, creating lots of opportunities for interactions and relationship progress. And the hockey games themselves can feature -- but they don't have to. They can be just as important or unimportant as you need them to be for story purposes. Need your character to be down about something? Throw in a loss. Anxious about something? Mention a point drought. Sharing a happy moment with their person? Give them a win. If you're strictly following game schedules -- which I try to for the most part -- you might not be able to put those things exactly where you want them, but you can usually find a way to make your timeline match up with actual events. Unlike so many canons where there are specific, exciting adventures that have to be accounted for or worked around, hockey is years and years of fertile ground for whatever you want to put there.

(Corollary to the last one: this is a big part of why I find it so much easier and more fun to write fic than original fiction. When you write a novel, you usually need to create an actual plot, where external events impact each other and build to a conclusion. You can include a romance, but it has to be woven into these other events, and that gets complicated. Need a bonding moment? You'd better hope you designed your external plot to give them one. On the other hand, when you write fic, especially hockey fic, the hockey season can just march on merrily in the background, impacting your story only as much as you want it to, and you can pick and choose the parts of it that most strongly shape your romance. SO much easier to build and maintain a line of romantic tension that way.)

So those are my reasons. Put them all together, and they go a long way toward explaining why I write so much hockey -- and not just stories that borrow hockey players as characters, but stories set in the actual hockey world, with maybe an AU element, but hockey definitely present. There's just so much that the setting does for me and for my ability to write the stories that matter to me.

How about all of you?

[aikainkauna]

Fanfic trope meme

Apologies to those of you who see this for a third time, as I’ve crossposted it to both LJ and Pillowfort. Feel free to comment over on there (or my other posts) if you like. And of course, feel free to grab this one and do it yourself, if you like.

***

Grabbed this meme from a couple of people on LJ. It's... well, apparently about fanfic tropes. Some of them more terrifying than others.

I have written:

-Hurt/comfort (Yeah, baby! Most of my fic is this.)

-Body swapping (Sort of? Souls slipping into each other's bodies for a bit? Jaffar feeling what Yassamin feels? Sex swap, I've definitely done.)

-Soulmate identifying marks (tattoo, red thread of fate, etc) (I have! The Throne of Solomon. And maybe The Past Forgotten counts, in its way. I may have written more, but I forget.)

-Snowed-in cabin/isolated together for extended period of time (The Jaffar/Pwinzezz Cavefic!)

-Found families (I guess the Samarkand gang counts for poor old Fadl? Even if Jaffar *is* his brother, so technically it is his family. But he does have his religious congregation and Zainab, and is... well, he always does seem to be seeking something, so he's the kind of guy to go for this trope.)

-Fairy tale/mythology AU (And not just when I am  writing in *actual* fairytale/mythology fandoms. Which I am doing most of the time, what with Thief of Bagdad being a 1001 Nights fanfic anyway. So I'm writing fanfic about a fanfic of some age-old RPF (fantasy AU!) about historical figures from the late 700s/early 800s...)

-Enemies  to friends to lovers (Yes, please! Aplenty. I'm surprised that  enemyslash/FoeYay/Hero(ine)/Villain(ess), whatever you want to call it,  isn't mentioned on this list.)

-Characters swap roles AU (Uh... I've written sexual switching in some isolated chapters? Like when Laura  briefly doms Torsten in The Fall of Angels, to help him get over some traumas?)

-Friends to lovers (With RPS, Veidtbone in particular, and Theta/Koschei. This also seems to happen whenever I write femslash.)

-Magical  connection (telepathy, etc) (Doctor/Master basically ruined me for all  my other ships what with their telepathic ability. So that now, it feels less interesting for me to write love/sex that *doesn't* have telepathy.)

-Fake dating/fake marriage accidentally turns into feelings (see next trope)

-Royals/political marriage turns into feelings (These last two are pretty much the same thing in ToB, as I've had Yassamin marry Jaffar a couple of times--like The Past Forgotten and The King's White Falcon, but without him laying a hand on her for up to a year, until she finally grows a brain and realises how loveworthy he is after all.)

-Seemingly unrequited pining (Emphasis on the "seemingly." Jaffar's unrequited   pining is painful enough in the movie, so there's no point in making him  suffer any more.)

-Accidentally fell in love with the mission target (Well, *kind of,* what with Torsten. Lars-Erik was definitely his mission target in the original film, and at the start of Because The World Belongs to the Devil, he made no bones about having wanted to kill Laura Erika [the teenage girl version of Lars-Erik in this AU, to those of you just joining in] when she was born.)

-They break up (but then they get back together) (With Jaffar/Fadl.  Fadl's stormed off in a huff at least twice in the past. And Doctor/Master is always the same old on-off car crash, isn't it? Although this is not a favourite trope of mine, as the setup would usually necessitate them being an existing couple in the first place,  and I tend to not write canon or "plausibly lovers" ships because   they're already happily together. What do Two and Jamie, Holmes and   Watson etc. need me for? They're already as good as married. Let them have their happiness.)

-Supernatural creature/human romance (Sort of. I've written Time Lords/humans, humans/djinn at least. And surely wizards count as supernatural romance, anyway?)

-Reincarnation/'25  Lives' AU (What's with the 25 lives? Is this some big fandom thing again? One of the darkest, most fucked-up fics I ever wrote was the Master killing the Doctor during sex and fucking him as he regenerated around him. As you do. And there's reincarnation in one of my Jaffar/Pwinzezz fics,  but I won't spoil it for the new readers by telling you which one it is.)

-Selfcest (possibly due to time travel) (I am scratching my head trying to remember when I wrote this and in which fandom, but I have the distinct feeling I've written it. I've certainly whacked off to  that World Of Simm!Masters clusterfuck what with the pink dress so many  times I... I think I broke two clit buzzers during that time. I've certainly drawn it. And drawn some Connies on Connies. And then there's, of course, Sarosh the Sexbot  who's a clone of Jaffar, looks-wise, but he is very distinctly just a robot, not a living character as such--not the sort with which you could  have a real, interpersonal dynamic. My problem with selfcest, in general, is that I like having that character dynamic--and that requires  the characters to be different from one another. If it's two characters  that are too similar--if they fulfill a similar role in the canons--it's hard to create a dynamic between them and to make it   interesting.)

-Polyamory (Swinging away ALL the bloody time with the Roses!Jaffar and Yassamin, and Torsten/Laura. Sometimes I miss the monogamous 'verses.)

-Amnesia (I've got a post-movie "Jaffar comes  back from the dead" WIP I'll probs never finish, because it doesn't seem to get off the ground. If I wrote this trope, I would have the characters gradually regain memory, though; complete mind-wipes are   horrid. I did have Handy lose the majority of his cognitive/motor/Timey skills in No More  and that was the main reason I had to... well, I'm not going to spoil it if someone hasn't read it yet, but it wasn't the cheeriest of fics. The Past Forgotten *sort of* has this, but I don't want to spoil as to how that happens.)

***

I could write:

-Daemons (Why the archaic spelling? I have written djinn, so I almost put this in the 'have written' section. I can't remember if I actually *have* written real demons, because I might have. Surely, Torsten counts...)

-'Everyone is evil'/mirrorverse AU (Well, mostly, if I want to explore "evil"   characters, I write about those types of characters in the first place, without having to turn anyone evil. Devilry is the 'verse for that. Hell, usually it's the other way around; I try to look for the human elements of the baddies, or at least explore their logic--what makes them tick, what makes them the way they are. So, IDK, I could've also   put this in the "unlikely to ever write" section.)

-And they were roommates! (This would be terrible and also hilarious, whatever characters ended up becoming my victims. Even if I'm more interested in those hurt/comfort plots, overall. And I have always found it *impossible* to live under the same roof with other people because I need peace and quiet and solitude too much. So this is almost a bit too much like the sorts of negative RL experiences I don't really want to get more of in fic.  But I *could* write it as a comedy for cheap lols, especially if the stress were resolved by hot bonking, ASAP.)

-'They  all work in an office' AU (Otherwise, I would've put this in the "just  no" category, but... the Barmakids were civil servants. So I *could*   write Jaffar and Fadl drowning in paperwork--"WHY DID WE EVER introduce paper into THIS EMPIRE?!?" and cursing their fates and Jaffar restraining Fadl from braining Harun al-Rashid with a paperweight. Same with Lina doing Zainab's books and trying to hold back The Fist of Death when Fadl carelessly drops a piece of his lunch over her perfectly calligraphied accounting.)

-'Falling for a coworker/teammate is a bad idea' except this is fiction so it works out (Maybe. Just maybe. But it'd also be in a medieval ToB context.)

***  

I will probably never write:

-'Groundhog  Day'/karmic time loop (I just never got the appeal of this. Sounds like the sort of thing experimental writers would like? The sorts who really  like filling in bingo cards and challenge lists?)

-Vampires/werewolves  AU (I'm not that big on either. Super-unpopular opinion coming up: I prefer sex to the sublimation of it that vampires are often all about; bloodsucking in lieu of sex, and/or being seen as way better than sex just always feel to me like a cheap cop-out from writers who are disappointed in sex, or afraid of it. I've never grokked it any more   than that stupid, stupid "chocolate is better than sex" quip from women who don't know what masturbation is--yes, it fucking well is sex, TYVM! I much prefer to make partnered sex better than it is IRL by adding supernatural stuff like telepathy to *that*. Immortality alone is interesting to explore, as are Gothic themes, but all the usual themes that vampires *specifically* usually represent just... either hold little interest for me, or then, I can explore them in other ways.)

-'Pride  and Prejudice' AU (I don't hate Jane Austen, but it's not my fandom. That kind of society stuff and being witty over teacups in bonnets has never really been my thing--if anything, I usually have my characters exist in their own bubble, isolated from society and its restrictive mores and social stresses.)

***

JUST NO!

-Coffee  house AU/food service AU (AUGH! Please, no coffeeshop AUs for me; the world is full of them already. Maybe I could write it as some terrible, short parody? Or doodle it? But no more than that.)

-Hogwarts AU (Haven't read HP. Young Adult isn't really my genre. I know, I know; I've just lost all my WLW cred.)

-High  school/university AU (I've done Time Lord Academy-era stuff with Doctor/Master, but I expect this means a sort of American high school/university AU with jocks and cheerleaders and shit. Hell, no. Again, the exact sort of horrid society stuff I would rather have my characters escape from.)

-Adopting/raising a baby (Erm, not unless you count Jaffar/Yassamin adopting a cheetah? They do have kids in some 'verses but there's none of that everyday baby stuff that this question/trope probably implies. I'm squicked by   babies, sorry.)

-Unusually specific occupation AU, like, the Author clearly has the same job (It worries me that this is, by virtue of its inclusion here, apparently seen as normal and acceptable..? When it's crap fanfic, inserting yourself into something that should be about the *established* characters instead. Jesus, I don't want to go in expecting a fanfic, and then find out it’s your diary instead! Unless you're Anaïs Nin. And even if you really *do* want to write about yourself, then just... write original fic? An autobiography? A blog? Write an OC that has your job. Don't do this false advertising where you insist it's fanfic when it's not. That's a dick move towards your readers.)

-Loyalty kink (see next trope)

-Alpha/beta/omega (Too creepy. I can write about piss, shit, incest, necrophilia and cannibalism, but not these last two. Any more than I can glorify the Nazis I've written about; I either take the piss out of them, as with Strasser, or just step outside of their politics and bring them into the land of happy sexings like with von Kolb, with the aim of dragging him out of that madness and leaving it behind.)

-Hot single parent(s) (Please. Rundvik: "You love children." Torsten: "I loooooathe themm.")

-Unrequited pining (Too much of an emotional squick. Has to be requited. I write fanfic to fix things, to avenge wrongs, to set things right. I don't write them to make the characters more miserable than they already are. Unless it's for temporary, character-development purposes, that is.)

[guessmonsta]

College AU with Tendou and this girl he's really into. Just a lot of deep conversations, millenials doing millennial things and low-key angst. Do whatever the hell you want with this, I'm sure it'll be great ♡

Okay at this point y’all should know letting me go to town with a Tendou promt is gonna end up… special. Thank you so much for this ask by the way. I owe you my life ♡

This was his worst nightmare. He didn’t know how he could possibly wind up late to a one o'clock class on a friday, but somehow, he found a way to do it.

Nobody gave him any odd stares as he slinked through the open doors at 1:27, much to his luck. That didn’t stop his nervous system from roiling, though. He couldn’t help but wonder why today, out of all the days of the year, (although the school year had only being going on for a week and a half) everyone in his literature class decided to show up. There wasn’t an empty seat open, at least, nowhere in the safe zone. The only open area he could see was front and center, and he would rather die than be placed in a situation like that. At this point, he figured if nobody saw him, he could just turn around and head home.

Although, that wasn’t the case.

Through his clunky reading glasses, the professor stared him down. He didn’t say a word but judging by the malice painted on his face, Tendou knew he was going to be in deep shit if he didn’t take a seat. He bowed, and as quick as possible hurried into the open seat in the front. The professor payed him no mind after that, he was one more irrelevant student out of 200. Although, the student next to him seemed to mind him very much. She had her chin rested in the palm of her hand, blowing small gum bubbles whenever the professor had turned his back. She kept sending Tendou a coy side gaze, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t put him on edge. His options were to either confront her about it and have the ordeal be over with, or stare her down right back. He went with the first option. Clearing his throat lightly, he leaned his cheek against his wrist and shifted himself in front of her line of vision. When she made eye contact with him, it was almost like her entire demeanor vanished. Tendou smirked.

“Any reason you’re staring at me, hm?” He expected her to shake her head and look away, maybe even scoot down the bench a little bit. He wanted her to be afraid of him, it’s what people who gave him dirty looks deserved. He expected fear, but there wasn’t any. Instead she kept a steady gaze and smiled bashfully, the apples of her cheeks flushing generously.

“I’m sorry if I was looking at you funny, uh, you can’t help a r.b.f.” She giggled nervously, her gaze shifting away, “I was looking at your hair, I… I really like it.”

Tendou had not expected this at all. Really, he was almost at a loss for words. He had gotten a set of passive aggressive insults ready and everything, but they were in no case needed. She complimented him. He must’ve made an odd expression, because her eyebrows turned up in confusion.

“Well, uh, thank you.” Is what he managed to splutter out, nodding his head and slowly turning back to the front of the room. The professor was rambling but Tendou hadn’t paid attention to a word he said. The only thing he could think of was the girl sitting next to him. Who was she? She had been the only person to send him a positive vibe on campus, and even if it hadn’t been such a tremendous compliment, it was a lot better than a backhanded “monster” remark. Much better.

Tendou made sure he’d never wind up late for a lit class again. That Tuesday he huddled through the doors at 12:55 with the rest of the class. For some reason, he had been looking out for her, even though he knew he shouldn’t. She was just a person trying to be nice, trying not to make a situation more awkward. She could hurt him, and he didn’t need that. But the moment he saw her already sitting down in the front of the room, blowing the same pink bubbles as she did last time, he made a beeline towards her direction.

“Hey.” He said, placing one hand upon the open desk to her right. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

“Not at all!” She peeped, moving her bag closer to her side, allowing him more space to sit.

“Thank you.” He nodded, throwing his bag onto the floor next to him.

“My name is __, by the way. It’s nice to meet you again.”

“__, huh? The name’s Tendou.” He hadn’t been making eye contact with her but he could see her staring at him from the corner of his eye. He liked her, but he didn’t. He refused to believe that she was being nice to him, truly. There had to be some sort of strings attached, some ploy she was scheming, he solely believed she was all but nice. He hated his trust issues.

Class resumed per usual, mostly spent on discussing a popular book everyone had read in high school. He spent the majority of his time on Reddit, not like anyone really noticed, though. Just as fast as it had come, it was now over. He rushed to pick his bag up off the floor before he felt a pat on his shoulder. He turned back around and cocked his head, stank eyes meeting those of a doe.

“Do you have any other classes today?” She inquired, shuffling with her own bag as he did with his.

“No, why?”

“You… wanna go grab a coffee with me or something after this?”

This definitely caught Tendou by surprize. He blinked a few times, then chuckled. He couldn’t help but shake his head.

“And why in the world would you want to do that?” His words dripped with malice, and she seemed confused by his statement. She gaped for a moment before she came up with something to say.

“To get my daily caffeine fix and keep my social life intact? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it was just a suggestion, I mean-”

“Sure, __, I’d love to.” He smiled, slinging his bag over his shoulder and waiting for her to slide out after him. Internally, he was screaming. Although this situation was so simple, it was so hard for him to wrap his mind around. Somebody who barely knew him wanting to get to know more about him. Never, ever in his life had a situation come up like this. It had to be a setup.

While walking next to her, Tendou had noticed a lot of things. She was significantly shorter than him, much shorter than any girl he had been involved with in the past. She had a spring in her step that made her seem more lively than most, but when he looked in her eyes, she had the same lethargic vigor as any other college student. He reckoned that he liked her eyes, though.

“So.” She said, the chilly air around them billowing her breath. “ What made you decide to come here?” Tendou shrugged.

“To get as far away from home as possible, to be honest.” At this she laughed, not because what he said was funny, though.

“I can relate. I think by the middle of senior year I was pretty much just throwing darts at a map and going with the farthest place away from there.”

“Ah, don’t tell me you really did that, now? You must have an aspiration in mind, right?” __ looked up at Tendou and shrugged, then sighed.

“I mean, I’ve always wanted to become a neurosurgeon, but I don’t think that’s gonna happen. What about you?” She looked up at him, but didn’t receive a response. This girl had to be kidding, Tendou thought.

“Clearly you’re smart enough to even think about being a neurosurgeon. Don’t give me that ‘I can’t do it’ bullshit.” He stuck his tongue out at her, to which she snorted in response. “I’m here for law, doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Like a lawyer? What made you want to be a lawyer?”

“Well, what made you decide you want to cut into people’s skulls for a living?”

“My sadistic streak.”

Tendou shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. He sucked his lips in and shook his head, holding back a smirk.

“I was so-o joking ple-ease don’t take that seriously.” She covered her mouth with her hands. She shook her head apologetically and Tendou couldn’t help but find it hilarious.

“Why should I listen to you? It might just be another one of your sadistic thoughts, hm?”

“Oh, this is a horrible first impression. I’m so sorry.”

“Sadists don’t say sorry, __.” She gaped, then popped her lips.

“On the topic of sadism, what kind of things are you into?” She inquired.

“Are you asking me about my kinks or what I do for fun?”

“The second one!”

“Well, uh, the first one could apply to both.” He smirked, only for her to wiggle her eyebrows. “But uh, to sum me up, I’m basically just a taller than average nerd.”

“Well, I’m a shorter than average nerd, it’s nice to meet my kin.”

They arrived at the coffee shop near his dorm room a quick minute later. He didn’t know what to think of __, not one bit. For now, he decided that he liked her. She got him. At least, she got the person he presented himself as. She listened to everything he had to say and more, and judging by her demeanor she liked talking to him. He found out she liked anime and could name all 196 countries on earth. He found out she was a dancer in high school but quit because she had to, not because she wanted to. He told her all about Shiratorizawa, the good parts, at least. He brushed the thin skin above the hard flesh and decided that, if they were to stay friends, he’d let her in on the cruelty later on. Her coffee order was just as odd as she was, it took her longer to explain than it actually took them to make. She was different, Tendou could sense it, and he could sense something else creeping up on him too.

At the end of it all she had given him her phone number. He warned her that he may just send an onslaught of memes to her at three in the morning, but that made her want to give him her number even more. “I’d rather get unsolicited memes than unsolicited nudes”, is what she said. He had dropped her off at her dorm at six and on his entire walk home he felt dizzy. He was overthinking again, but it couldn’t be helped. Although in the front of his mind, all was positive. She liked him, she wasn’t afraid of him. She complimented his hair and his freckles and his sense of humor. She was flirting with him, she liked him. There was nobody she was using him for, she said it herself that she barely knew anybody. But why couldn’t he bring himself to believe her? Maybe one day, he’d bring it up to her. For now, he just wanted to pass out.

“You wanna get deep, Satori?”

It was a question she had asked at two in the morning on the friday night before spring break. A question that made his heart race out of his chest. They were alone in his dorm room along with dozens of empty soda cans, all the lights off besides the cheap lamp on his nightstand. They sat on his bed, legs crossed, facing each other. For the longest time none of them said a word, before Tendou let out a sigh.

“You really wanna get deep with me, __?”

“I’ve wanted to get deep with you since the day we met.” She shrugged, taking a subconscious sip of her coffee. “Is that weird?”

“Kinda… not judging though.” Tendou shrugged. He cracked his neck and placed his half empty can of coke on the nightstand. “I trust you well enough to tell you my tragic anime villain backstory. You cool with that?”

“Lay it on me.”

Tendou sat silent for a moment, contemplating the situation he was wedged into. It was way too late and he was already high on the feeling of sleep deprivation, and there was nothing left for him to lose.

“I was kind of a weird child. Hell, I’m still a weird child depending on who you ask. Ah, weird elementary schooler, we’ll go with that. I’ve always loved volleyball ‘cause its so fast paced without getting physical. I was addicted to that… rush. You prolly don’t get what I mean by that.”

“I feel what you mean.”

“Good. I started playing when I was six or seven-ish. Loved it. Didn’t love me though. The other kids… the other kids would bully me. A lot. I was called a… a monster. They didn’t like my hair or my eyes or my freckles or the way I moved…. I was just a human version of road bump. In their way. They’d beat me up but I never fought back. I always went home with a split lip or a black eye… tons of scrapes. It was really hard… insanely. I ended up beating one of them in a volleyball match with this block, which pretty much became my signature. I told you ‘bout the Guess Block, right? I wasn’t bullied as much after that, at least, not physically. Middle school sucked. I mean, middle school sucked for everyone, right? My teammates talked so much shit, so did my coach. I was included but damn, I was never included. Nobody liked me but I kinda just had to deal with that. I didn’t even like myself. Until high school came. Damn, when I say high school was the best three years of my life, I mean it. Best team ever, awesome group of guys. The type of people who would kick someone’s teeth in if they looked at you funny. It was acceptance, I… I loved it. Sometimes I even forgot that people ever hated me ‘cause these guys made up for every shitty moment of my life up until then. I wanna say those were the only friends I’ve ever had. The only people who didn’t see me as… a monster. Graduation sucked, it was like leaving the only paradise I had ever known. I’m proud to say I cried for three days straight in my bedroom afterwards. You can quote me on that if you ever need blackmail, by the way, __. When I met you here I think I was sceptical about you for two months straight. I’ve never met somebody who was nice to me outside of that volleyball team and you were just… weird. Like, what’s this pretty girl talking to me for? She’s using me, she’s so using me. I dated two girls in the past, one I dated for a week before she cheated on me with another guy in my class, horrible, right? And another dated me for a day and broke it off ‘cause she told me the only reason she got with me was to get closer to the volleyball captain. The volleyball captain was my actual best friend, just to let you know. Then uh, I met you and you were nice to me. You were genuinely the first person out of the team to not think I’m a monster and… and I dunno. That’s my fucked up life, beat that.”

She didn’t say a word as he finished up his rant. His face was red and he refused to look her in the eye. She knew it now. She knew the roots of his trust issues and his depression, the thoughts he’s never told anyone. She was silent as she reached over and pulled him into her arms, holding him tight as he shook. His arms found their way around her middle and he pulled her closer towards him, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck. Tendou decided that this was nice, he could live like this.

“I’m so sorry, Satori.”

“It’s alright.”

“You know, the first time I saw you I thought you were crazy attractive?”

“Really?”

“That’s why I was staring at you. I could’ve screamed.”

“You’re lying.”

She said nothing after that, compensating to running her fingers through his matted hair.

“Satori?” She peeped after a moment of brief silence. He sniffled, lifting his head out of the crook of her neck.

“Hm?”

“You know those two girls you dated?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Have you ever been kissed?”

Satori gawked at her with wide eyes. If his heart hadn’t been hammering before it sure was now. He sighed, and shook his head.

“Will I be the biggest loser on earth if I say no, I haven’t?”

“No…” she shook her head. She blinked slowly then sighed. “Satori, can I kiss you?”

His mind went blank for a moment. It was now three in the morning and nothing else mattered to him besides her, sitting in his arms and looking at him like he meant the world to her.

“Yes.”

So she did.

She cradled his head in the palm of her hand and wasted no time in pressing her lips against his. He had short circuited, his mind even more scrambled than it had been before. He didn’t know what to do so he just went with whatever he could. His nose bumped against hers, same goes for teeth, but she was soft. She pulled away for a split second and let out a puff of air, then went back to delicately kissing him.

She pulled away after a moment, looking into his eyes and brushing the pad of her thumbs across his cheeks. She was flushed up to the core, and it made Satori smile.

“You deserve to be loved, Satori. You deserve everything. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and I’m insanely proud of you. I love you.” She whispered, thumbs still brushing circles across his freckled cheeks. Her words made him tear up, but she didn’t notice. Maybe she did, but payed no mind to it. She loved him. That’s all he ever wanted to hear.

“I love you too, __. Thank you.”

He didn’t quite remember what happened next, it all being just a sleep induced blur. What he did know is that the next morning he woke up with her cradled in his arms, under the covers with her hands in his hair. For the first time in ages, he had woken up happy. He didn’t want to move, hell, he didn’t even want to think. He wanted her to kiss him again, he wanted to tell her he loved her again. He wanted her to be his.

For the first time in his life, Tendou Satori had felt loved.

[incorrectmlpquotes]

I watched My Little Pony: Equestrian Girls (2013)

Or: This wasn’t what I signed up for when I started watching this show, but now I’m suckered in.

If I was better at planning things, I would have started with this review. But, here we are.

Some history As stated previously, I was not exactly excited to watch the Equestrian Girls movie (mainly because this commercial still haunts my nightmares). It was a lot better than I had expected, but that doesn’t mean it does;t have flaws. Lots and lots of flaws. The biggest of which being: this feels like fan fiction. Now, let me elaborate: I have seen a lot of people compare works to fan fiction implying that it’s bad or poorly written. That is not at all true or fair. Fan fiction can be complex and well-written and way more interesting than a lot of published fiction. But there are certain thing s a writer can get away with in fan fiction that doesn’t work in other writing. For example, in stories based on, say, a popular tv show, you don’t need to go into detail about a character’s appearance or characteristics because the reader already knows all of those details. A good writer uses a pre-established world and people to get right to the meat of a story and explore other aspects of them. That would be fine, except this movie was intended to be a back-door pilot to a new show.  Let that sink in: they wanted to take a familiar and complex universe with a unique premise and make a high school au. 

The high school au is actually an easy to understand phenomenon. The advice most given to young writers is “write what you know.” I’m not going to discuss whether or not this is good advice, but it does explain a few things. The average age for fan fiction writers is 12-20. What do people in this age know a lot about? The building they spend eight hours a day, five days a week for sixteen years sitting in, thinking about tv shows. Why shouldn’t they write bout their favorite characters doing the same? The problem arises when Hollywood executives who haven’t been in a high school for thirty years decide to screw up a simple concept by taking your favorite characters and using every high school cliche in the book. They do that so often in this movie, I made a bingo game for it. Feel free to play along:

Enough stalling, to the movie:

The film starts with the princess summit. If you didn’t see the (I can’t believe I’m writing this) controversial season three finale where resident brainiac Twilight Sparkle becomes a princess alicorn, too bad. This is not explained and will be a pretty important plot point. It is nice that they give some brief characterization at the beginning, but they don’t say the other Mane Six’s names. Didn’t this come out in theaters? A movie- even one based off a tv show- should provide this information so if someone who’s never seen the show watches it, they can understand the references. The Rugrats movies did it, the Wild Thornberrys movie did it,  and this movie should have done it.

Perchance could this hooded figure that’s creeping about after dark be a villain? Meet Sunset Shimmer. She was Princess Celestia’s  pupil who went rogue after her desire for great power overtook her good nature. Sound familiar?

No? Good

Ah plot contrivances . I understand that these are the bedrock to most movies based in magical universes, but it shouldn’t make me think “how convenient” every five minutes. Maybe I wouldn’t feel this way if it were actually explained what a moon means. They have days. They have months. They have years. HOW LONG IS A MOON? EXPLAIN YOUR UNIT OF TIME, EQUESTRIA!!!

Ok, Twilight’s reaction to being turned in to a human (?) is hilarious. I read that the writers made Spike a dog to avoid the weird dragon age implication, and it is pretty funny, but why does he know how she should act in this world? (And why does that outfit make her look like an anime character?)

I know they needed to get all the characters we the audience are familiar with into one long sight gag, but why is Diamond Tiara in a high school?  How do ages translate in this universe? It’s things like this that reinforce the fan fiction argument

About the songs in this: they’re not great. They aren’t terrible by any means, but after season three (I actually quite enjoyed the songs in the finale) it’s a tad dissappointing

Over fourteen minutes in and we finally get to meet the Mane 6 doppelgängers and the villain antagonist of the piece. Aaaaand she’s a one-dimensional mean girl stereotype. Twilight can fight the literal spirit of chaos, but can she survive Regina George?

Actual Disney Princess Fluttershy. But how does she carry around any books without crushing those animals? My high school backpack would have squished Angel bunny

Princess Celestia: thousand year old omniscient being who raises the sun, demoted to a public high school principal. Not even a school board super intendant. It sucks to be you, babe. That design is beyond hideous btw

The instant they said “princess”, I just knew we were in for a ride. Look, that was the easiest comparison for what was going on in the MLP-verse, but the princess of a dance doesn’t really do anything. They get their pictures the school paper, and maybe the yearbook and that’s all. It’s not like she’s running for class president or something that would actually affect the student body

So are they seniors? There are three pictures of Sunset winning the title, so… 

The moments of self-awareness are really jarring, especially because the principal just spoke to a new student without asking for transcripts or grades or anything

You know, maybe show a little more than just one scene of making Fluttershy cry (a feat so easy her pet rabbit does it on a regular basis) if you want me to believe that Sunset is so mean and scary. She’s not exactly Heather Chandler

If there is one phrase that needs to be expunged from screen-writers’ vocabulary, it is “rule the school.” It is quite possibly the single worst cliche I have ever seen and is usually the worst part of any high school movie. Maybe if Sunset was using her magic to control these people it would be different, but we don’t see that. The lunch room would be the perfect setting to showcase how she divides people in order to keep them weak (a la the Hunger Games), but no such luck

Some hilarious foreshadowing at the hands of Pinkie, and some flat exposition from Applejack. We get it! Sunset is a mean girl! Those exist, but it doesn’t make her an all-powerful villain! So far Rainbow Dash has been presented as a better antagonist than her. Your close friend can do more to stab you in the back than someone who’s shows up just complain about decorations

Sunset disrespected the cider! Kick her ass, AJ!

I’m really glad they found the only poorly-lit corner of the school to have the confrontation scene. But honestly, isn’t running unopposed kind of a pathetic way to win? Like, wouldn’t Sunset rather crush someone on her way to victory to establish dominance? The addition of the new mythos as to what happens when an element of harmony is brought to another universe is actually a nice addition, but I bet we won’t hear about it again until the climax    

So the Main 6 5 were friends and something split them apart? I bet it must be something very serious to divide such a close friend group. Or perhaps a simple yet frustrating misunderstanding that ruins all suspense. Probably the latter. That photo of the younger characters is the most adorable thing i’ve ever seen, though

The moment I’ve been waiting thirty two minutes for: Rarity’s appearance! And it took me that long to figure out that they are basically all wearing the same outfit. I think this might be the case of designing for the merchandise before designing the characters: Doll skirts are waaaaaay easier to sew than doll pants, and those knee-high boots mean less anatomy to worry about. Did that toy line take off? I feel like I never see them in stores...

I suppose I should be asking why the school would care about someone they’ve never met doing something embarassing on a video, but in real life everyone would just assume Twilight was on drugs. Also, I’m pretty sure smear campaigns would get you disqualified from the race

So technology ruined their friendship. That’s not what’s said, but that is what’s being implied

This is the biggest example of how you can get by without detailed characterization in fan fiction but not published writing: the audience know what element each pony doppelgänger stands for because they’ve had three seasons to earn that trait. These characters have not. For the most part, none of them have even slightly acted like them. Rarity’s really the only one, being generous and helping someone she had never met hide from the crowd who has come to mock her shame. I suppose Fluttershy was kind, but Twilight stood up for her first and she was kind of just returning the favor. Applejack has’t had the chance to be honest (providing exposition does not count), Pinkie was visibly angry at one point, and and ending a friendship over a petty squabble is the exact opposite of loyalty. Rainbow Dash would not have ended the feud if Twilight hadn’t intervened. I know this is a seventy minute movie and they have to move the story along, but maybe have less montages and more exploration of character. Friendship is Magic parts 1 and 2 was only forty five minutes only and they managed to introduce a new world, characters, and a plot setup while keeping the story going

And just like that, the conflict is resolved. Rainbow’s design is HORRIBLE. What is up with that skirt? And more importantly: how does being bad at a sport mean you will be a good princess? Wouldn’t her willingness to fix a friendship say more about her character? 

 On to the annoying blue elephant in the room: I hate Flash Sentry. I hate him as a character plot device and I have no use for him. Here is what I have written in my notes for this scene:

Looking past the fact that only one main character has ever shown an interest in a romantic relationship, watching the normally competent and intelligent Twilight act awkward around a boy who (need I remind you) is a different species than she, makes me sick to my stomach. If you like him: fine. If you ship them: whatever. I do not care. This is not the worst ship I have seen come out of this show/movie, but he has no personality or character. He is generic “boy” character who could have been written out and the movie would have been the same. Every time he is in a scene, I roll my eyes and groan. That is all I’m going to say about him

Rarity being overly dramatic gives me life, but the speech about unity just beats you over the head with the movie’s message. I get the comparison, but being part of a school is not the same thing as being a part of a community or kingdom. The second you graduate, you stop caring about your high school. School pride is not the same thing as nationalism

So just to be clear: girl messes up using a copier = comedy gold. Group sings a frankly embarrassing song to the entire lunchroom = best thing ever, let’s vote for her. In real life, the principal would have just walked in and suspended all of them

Why on earth would they manually doctor the photos? It would be so much work to cut those things out. Is there no photoshop equivalent in this world? Why leave a paper trail? But, on the plus side, here is an actual dilemma! Twilight has to figure out another- Oh wait no, let’s resolve that instantly by having Blue Hair McThiscouldhavebeenliterallyanyone find the photos. It’s almost as if this scene was pointless.

Don’t flirt in front of the administer! Geez

Oh look, more conflict. Twilight has to get the crown and leave tonight. Maybe that scene did have a point. Some actual stakes, if this changed the plan to get the crown. But it doesn’t. We know they are going to redecorate the gym. This is just slowing down the plot and taking time away from developing the characters

This is a genuinely sweet scene with Spike. It is one of the best scenes in the whole movie, and it brings up a good point: Twilight feels alone because she is the only one who understands the full weight of what getting (or more importantly: possibly losing)  the crown means, in this universe and her home. But she’s not alone because the people who are depending on her will support her and try to help no matter what the outcome is

HOW LONG IS THIRTY MOONS?!?!

Oh Pinkie Pie. You majestic creature

Oh my gosh, an actually appropriate reactions to a talking animal! Wow. Usually a movie like this would just have a character say, “huh, weird” and no one would react

So the conflict is once again resolved quickly. The problem is no more. This was slightly more satisfying because is did require other people to assist in fixing the gym, thereby bringing the divided school together, but it happened in one musical number. When you rush important plot points, they lose significance

Well, Twilight has six hours until she potentially loses her magic crown to the villain and is stuck in this world while Sunset takes over Equestrian, so IT’S TIME FOR A MAKEOVER MOTAGE!

The animals are helping Fluttershy get ready- this is proof she is a Disney Princess!

Ah yes, the formal cowboy hat. A staple of every dance

I don’t know anyone in real life who’s actually taken a limo to a dance

Remember how I said I wasn’t going to talk about Flash again? Well, I lied. His car screams “douche”, but his personality screams nothing at all because ewe know nothing about this character except he plays the guitar. Granted, that’s usually the amount of info we got about the love interest in a late nineties teen flick, but this isn’t one of those. Maybe instead of that soccer scene, they could have provided reasons for me to care about whether Twilight will dance with him. Just saying

The moment you’ve all been waiting for since it was set up in the first act has arrived. I know you were all on the edge of your seat wondering if Twilight would win. 

Suspense is a tricky thing to do well. You need to build up to it without constantly reminding the audience to the point that they no longer care about it. There is a quote by Alfred Hitchcock that I’m not going to put in its entirety, but here’s the link, that basically says you can’t have a big Thing happen with no buildup. We know that something potentially bad could happen if Sunset gets the crown, but the majority of the movie has been about this darn dance. You almost forget just why Twilight wants to win, other than this is a high school movie. When you only leave fifteen minutes for the climax, with little to no build up (do we even know what Sunset can do?) it’s going to be unsatisfying. I might be putting way to much thought into this kids movie. But wait, no I’m not. This show is not one of the time-wasting cartoons of yore. It covers complex subjects and serious topics, so pardon me if I expect more out of them than cliche after cliche

In a rare display of actual villainy, Sunset offers Twilight a way home in exchange for the crown. This leads to one of the few scenes that shows her self-sacrifice: Twilight cares more about the safety of her home and her friends than her own comfort. I question what has Sunset actually accomplished there that’s so bad, but Twilight is acting noble (and I mean that in the most unsarcastic was possible)

And she just steals the crown. And becomes the most hilarious looking demon ever

How has no one pulled out their cell phone and videotaped this yet?

I question how effective the army of easily wounded humans would be against Equestrian, which is full of creatures who have magic, hooves, and stabbing horns, but whatever

What’s this? Could it be… the magic of friendship? Whoever could have guessed?

This magical pony transformation scene will really come back to haunt me (but at least no one said pony up)

If I’m being fair, this is basically what happened at the end of Friendship is Magic, part 2

So no one’s going to question what just happened? Has the internet desensitized them that much? Don’t act like you know what’s going on Celestia! And How are they going to explain the destroyed property to the insurance company?

Well, the evil has been defeated so it’s time for Twilight to go through the portal and return home. But not without a quick dance first

This scene is cute, I guess. And it is canon that Twilight can’t dance in horse form either

What was their backup plan if Twilight failed? Just wait around there?

Oh good, Twilight has the adventure of a lifetime so let’s end the movie on a really important note: talking about a boy. There’s your moral.

I know I nitpicked a lot (and overused “in real life”) but I do enjoy Equestria Girls. The first time I watched this movie, I was significantly more harsh than I should have been. It’s cute and mostly harmless, with some genuinely funny scenes. Despite the many many plot holes, it is an alright beginning to the series and most of the issues I took with this get resolved in later movies. The antagonist might me mostly absent and doesn’t play a huge role until the last fifteen minutes, but It’s worth sitting through this nonsense to see Sunset’s redemption arc. I don’t know how this would be as a standalone TV show, but there is a line of comics based on it that you can check out.  3.2/5 You know, for a universe that has a character named Cranky Doodle Donkey, Flash Sentry is still the worst name I have seen for a fictional character (and until I rewatched for this review, I thought his name was Flash Century). Here are some unused zingers I had for him: Flash Sentry sounds like a boy band from the early 2000s Flash Sentry sounds like a Flash Gordon fan fiction title Flash Sentry sounds like the name of a bankrupt film company Flash Sentry sounds like a character from Zoolander Flash Sentry sounds like a villain from Rocky IV Flash Sentry sounds like the name of a Fallout Boy song Flash Sentry sounds like the name of a horse that’s predicted to win the Triple Crown but trips during the Belmont … oh, I guess that joke’s not so funny when he’s actually a horse. But enough about me, what did you think? Were there too many scenes of Twilight not understanding the new world, or did those make the movie? Did Trixie have the best line in the entire movie? Will I get the sequel recap up in a timely manner?