#was having this exact thought like sure have sometimes seen things where in fact Not Having A Clue has not been simply helpful

[unproduciblesmackdown]

costume design, set mockup, and rehearsal photos from this guide to the show that's like really thorough in providing Context like, mini articles about the creators of the original movie, musical, and movie musical, about other versions of productions, the history, quotes of other commentary, interview quotes, context of other / preexisting genres like b movies, faustian stories, "what if a plant was weird" stories, glossary of terms (such as references that may generally be less obscure if you were in the '60s, e.g.), suggested further reading....haven't read it top to bottom but i think it's fantastic, link to the pdf as post source

[hauntedwitch04]

I'm so excited

Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 4.0k words

Warnings: smut, possessive!Remus, swearing, not proofreaded (sorry it's really late, and I'm starting to imagine things :) )

Author’s note: Hi loves! I'm so so so so so sorry, but life it's really kinking me in the ass and seems like uni likes to do the same, so I hope to write some more during this break. Let me know if you liked this one, your witch Becky

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KINKTOBER ...........-..........KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 11: Breeding (tbt maybe isn't that much breeding, but I let myself get carried away by Remus Fucking Lupin)

Title of the one shot (and song in it): I'm so excited by The pointer sisters

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Remus could swear that he had never hated you as much as he did at that moment.

You and young Lupin had never been big fans of each other, as you both competed to be your year's brightest witch and wizard, but for some time the hungry little wolf in him had begun to see more than just a rival of wits in you: prey.

Each time he could not help but dwell on your hair, your smile (unfortunately never directed at him), your wonderful and magnetic eyes, and then wander over aspects that made his thoughts less pure. At night he dreamed of being able to touch your breasts, his most secret and darkest desire, being able to kiss, taste and bite them, almost putting his signature on you, so that everyone, even that idiot Ravenclaw of your year knew that no one but him could touch you; or he dreamed of leaving a trail of kisses from your belly down to your belly, to your thighs, which he imagined were so soft and sweet, until a scream from Sirius woke him up in the morning, telling him he was late, again. Sometimes in the dullest classes he marveled at imagining what it would be like to come inside you, to possess you in such a primitive, animal way; to see his cum dripping from your pussy as his fingers brought it back inside you, into your womb, where it belonged according to him.

Part of Remus knew that he had no right to impose himself on you in that possessive way, but somehow the wolf inside him disagreed, having decided that you were by far the most captivating and attractive prey he had ever seen.

Despite everything, however, young Lupin had always managed to make sure that he did not give in to his instincts, well at least until this evening.

The Hufflepuffs had decided to throw another party, to take the pressure off the young students in this exam-filled period, and of course his friends had decided that Remus absolutely had to attend to tell them "to relax a bit," but Sirius, as they were getting ready to arrive at the place where the party was being held, had looked at Remus and raising his eyebrows in an endearing way, with the look of someone who knows more than he should, had said that he knew for a fact that you would be at the party. Remus had never wanted to punch him as much as he did at that exact moment, but the thought that had grafted itself into him of you, dancing in the middle of a dance floor, not in the usual clothes he saw you in class in, but freer and more yourself, had been enough to make him close his mouth in fear that an involuntary moan would escape his lips.

But his imagination had not even come close to reality.

He had been sitting in an armchair for two hours now, stiff and panting, while next to him two are making out as if he were not next to them, but Remus cares nothing about what is happening next to him, the only thing he can focus on is you.

Right now you've climbed on top of one of the tables in the center of the room with your friend, and you're dancing one attached to the other, moving your pelvis in time to the music. You are wearing a simple black T-shirt with a V-neckline, ending just above your belly button and highlighting your breasts, which made young Lupin say a long string of swear words when he first saw you when he entered the room, hoping that like a spell they might change what you are wearing into cute, soft pajamas with Christmas puppets, or make the painful erection he was feeling go away. A simple skirt, on the other hand, moved in time with your hips, showing off your legs, neither too much nor too little. It was shocking to Remus how on an occasion like this you had managed to maintain the same elegance and class you show in class when you get into an argument with him about who is right, in fact he almost seemed to see the same stubbornness and confidence in your eyes at this moment as you downed another sip of your drink, which you had managed not to spill despite everything despite continuing to move.

"If you take a picture of her, you'll be able to look at it again tonight you know, when you can't help but-" Sirius whispers in his ear, waking Remus from the trance-like state he had fallen into.

"We get it Padfoot, you don't need to go on." James stops him, as he gets a glimpse of the young wolf from behind their friend's back.

Remus rolls his eyes, only to look in his hands at the drink that he has now finished, and without saying anything to his friends he turns and goes to the table where the bottles of alcohol are.

He pauses for a moment to look at which of the proposed spirits is the strongest, to make sure that he also forgets his name, as well as the sinful thoughts your body brings him.

However, everything changes in a matter of seconds.

The young wolf has finally identified what he wants to drink when a body pulls up, still moving in time to the music. Remus turns to glare evilly at anyone who has bumped into him at such an unhappy and difficult time in his life, when he sees the culmination of all his problems: you.

He can't help but look at you enraptured even more than before, now with the possibility of being able to notice up close all the details that had eluded him a few minutes ago; besides given the difference in height, now your V-neckline offers him a view of your breasts unseen before, so much so that he has to restrain himself from running into the nearest bathroom and throwing cold water on his face, and more.

Your hair reflects the moonlight, which comes from a nearby window, and at that moment Remus realizes a truth that had escaped him just before: in three days it would be a full moon.

Not understanding how something so important could have slipped his mind, he realizes that all last week he had been too busy cursing your name or moaning it at night to realize that the moon was changing night after night.

You are the only thing he can now understand and think about, and this terrifies him, but at the same time makes him feel good.

Coming to her senses, she realizes that caught up in the rhythm of the music and the alcohol you practically danced on him. Lupin feeling a presence in his pants becoming more and more obvious and the wolf inside him getting louder and louder, decides that he cannot stay a second longer in this room, so he hurries out of the Hufflepuff common room, to find himself thus in the corridors. He begins to run, not going too far, but far enough to still hear the background music, thinking he is alone, when he hears footsteps.

Remus turns and sees you, leaning forward trying to regain the breath you had lost in running after him. Again the sight of your cleavage is enough to make him say a sequence of swear words under his breath as you pull yourself up and look at him.

"What are you doing here?" Remus asks, in an almost mean tone, yet unable to hide a note of longing as he tries to send you away by being rude to you.

"Your friends looked pretty bad to me, and they asked me to see if you were okay when you ran away from the party." You reply in the same acid tone he had used, before bursting out laughing. "What an idiot I am. I thought that at least this time if I showed you kindness, you would see that I'm not a bitch like you like to paint me."

"Why do you care so much that I think so highly of you?" He asks, intrigued, as he mentally slaps himself for the question he just asked.

"Because you are a person that everyone esteems and appreciates, and it is an honor to be appreciated by you in this damn school, and I never understood what I did to deserve the treatment I get from you. Do you really hate me for a couple of assignments and lessons? Are you really that arrogant?" You ask as you take a step toward him, but the sight of you so angry and panting with your hair messed up is enough to make him go wild, imagining you in the same condition, but this time because of him in a different way: under him and panting from his kisses as he makes you cry out in pleasure with his member. Remus takes a step back to catch his breath as he tries with all his might not to jump on you, and to banish his thoughts with images of pink-bearded Dumbledore dancing to a Christmas song. You, however, misinterpret that step backward, and respond with another step forward toward him.

"What more do I have to do than that Lupin? I'm laying myself bare before you, what more do I have to do Remus? Tell me."

Upon hearing his name fall from your fleshy lips, a short-circuit occurs in Remus's brain, who, no longer able to have control over his body, pounces on you like a predator who manages to finally get his fangs on his prey.

You initially don't know how to react when you feel his mouth on yours, but after a few seconds you return the kiss with equal passion. Your hands go into his brown hair, pulling it, while at the same time you press his face even harder against yours. Instead, his hands travel the way from your hips to your butt to your thighs, where with a nimble move Remus pulls you up as if you weighed nothing, while your back collides with the cold stone wall, enough to make you moan into the boy's mouth.

So you stay endless minutes kissing, in that lost hallway, while underneath the music seems to give you the tempo with which your tongues must move.

Then Remus pauses, trying to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against yours, still trying to keep at bay the wolf inside him that was clawing at the door to get out.

"You're still in time to run away baby. If you don't leave now, I don't know if I can guarantee that I can stop another time." Remus whispers a few inches from your lips as you too catch your breath. You look at him confused, not understanding why he sees what you were doing, or what you might soon be doing, as a terrible thing you would like to run away from instead of something you have been running toward for years.

And instead of answering him, she starts humming the song that had just started at the party.

"Tonight's the night we're gonna make it happen-" Whispers kissing his forehead. "-tonight we'll put all other things aside-" You continue kissing his eyes. "-give in this time and show me some affection-" You sing as you kiss his cheeks, hearing him moan, almost as if it is a pain what you are doing, even though you know for sure from the erection pressing against your belly that it is not. "-We're goin' for those pleasures in the night.-" You say finally kissing him on the lips, lightly brushing against his before continuing to sing. "-I want to love you, feel you, wrap myself around you, I want to squeeze you, please you, I just can't get enough, and if you move real slow, I'll let it go-" now, however, it is he who begins his attack with slow kisses from your ear to your mouth, not even touching it though before moving down to your neck.

"-I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it, I'm about to lose control and I think I like it, I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it, and I know, I know, I know, I know I want you." You finish singing the refrain panting as he finishes leaving marks all the way down your neck to the hollow, leaving almost his mark, wanting everyone to know who was lucky enough to have you in his arms and on his lips.

"Do you still have doubts Lupin, or should I go back to my room and do for myself what you haven't given me yet? Or maybe I could go back to the party and find someone, maybe Sirius-" You try to provoke him, but your words die in your throat as one of his hands tightens around your neck.

"Don't ever try to mention another guy's name at the moment I'm about to fuck you, or next time not only will I leave all these bites on your neck but I'll also put a nice collar on you." He states in a hard, confident voice, enough to make you tremble, as you feel a warm sensation creating in your lower abdomen. "You'd like that wouldn't you, baby? A nice collar that tells everyone where you belong?" He continues, realizing that he has touched the right keys.

You gasp and search within yourself for the strength to respond to him.

"Lupin, I swear if-" You try to say, but you can't finish.

"Oh my baby, are we off to a bad start? What's my name?" He interrupts you, tightening his grip on your neck a little more.

"Remus, please Remus I need you."

"What do you need baby?" He asks, as with a sly grin he watches you wiggle under his gaze, as if your body is on fire.

"I need you to fuck me. Now. There's a broom cupboard nearby, no one ever comes by here." You propose in hopes of soon alleviating the feeling of longing you feel.

"And here I thought all you did was keep your pretty little nose in the books all the time." He taunts you, as always with your legs wrapped around his waist and one arm wrapped behind your back and the other on your neck, he leads you toward the place you suggested just now.

"And now I find out that instead you are nothing but a little whore, ready to get fucked in the broom closet. Don't worry baby, I'll prove to you that once again I'm better at it than you are."

"Oh yeah and how?" You manage to say, once the door to the cramped little room, capable of holding only the two of you standing, is closed behind you. Dust gets into your nostrils, and you don't even want to think about how many bugs there must be on these walls, but the only thing you care about now is the man between your legs, and what he might do.

"You'll learn to recite my name better than any spell they've ever taught you, and I know for a fact that you'll appreciate its result much more, I'd say it's nothing short of ecstatic." He replies, before venturing back to your lips to devour you as if it were his last meal on earth, and he hadn't eaten in weeks.

You feel his warm hands settle on your breasts, and then reach to the edge of the T-shirt you are wearing and slip it off, leaving before his eyes a view of your chest, covered only by your bra.

"Merlin, how I love your boobs." Remus confesses, before moving on to leave open-mouthed kisses and bites on all the skin he finds available, then quickly and surely removing your bra in less time than you realize.

Now that your hair is uncovered and in contact with the cold night air, it stiffens, and the young wolf is not slow to take one between his lips and tease the other with his hand, until your hands are violently embedded in his hair and your moans grow louder and louder.

"Please, Remus, I need more." You beg him in a whisper, so you feel one of his hands rest on your hip, while the other descends to your panties, and his mouth continues to torture your right hair, with the constancy with which he wants to prove he is better than you in class. He lowers one of your legs by resting it on the floor, so that access to his coveted treasure is easier. His hand grazes your pussy from above your panties, sending a shiver down your entire back as you gasp through your lips, resting your head on his shoulder.

With a gentle gesture he moves his fingers between your panties and the most sensitive and delicate spot on your body, making you gasp.

"God baby, I didn't think you were so wet." He comments, making you blush. "Didn't you want more baby? I swear I won't stop until you beg me to stop." He whispers in your ear, pulling away from your nipple for a moment, then attaching the other one, leaving the one from before wet from his saliva to the night breeze, thus making you shiver with pleasure again and getting you even wetter.

One of his long, slender fingers enters you, teasing you, before adding a second. He moves his fingers with agility and confidence, like those of a musician performing his favorite piece that he has been playing for years now. He touches inside you in all the right places, making you moan with pleasure.

That delicious torture goes on for minutes that seem like hours.

Your lips are on the verge of splitting from how much you are biting them, when you feel coming like a wave the orgasm to which your gestures are leading you.

"Remus I'm going to-"

"Cum." He says simply, looking you fixedly in the eyes, from his full height. You stare gazing at those wonderful chocolate-colored crystal orbs, illuminated by the gentle moonlight filtering through the cracks in the door, when you can no longer stop the inevitable in the face of his oh-so-dry command. You reach the pinnacle of pleasure, and it is as if for a moment you can touch the sky with your finger. Your soul goes out of your body for a moment, until you open your eyes again, gasping and he looks at you with a satisfied look.

"And that's just the beginning baby, you still have to come on my cock." He comments, as with a lightning-fast gesture he unbuckles his underpants and pulls down his panties, just enough to make his member come out. You remain mute staring at his cock for a moment, noting its size: it wasn't the first time you had fucked someone, but none of the guys could match Remus, that was for sure.

"See anything you like baby?" He asks you sarcastically, as you feel your pussy getting even wetter than it already is.

"Maybe, but you still have a promise to keep so you'd better get to work." You retort, before being silenced by his lips. With his hands he directs his cock toward your entrance, then puts it all the way inside you without warning, leaving you breathless with your back pressed against the door. You feel him inside you in places you didn't even think he could reach, as he stays still to give you a minimum of time to adjust to his size.

"Oh baby, don't worry, I'm a man of my word. You will walk out of here that I will have branded you with my cum from inside, so that everyone will know for sure that you are mine." He whispers in your ear before starting to move. He comes almost completely out of you, leaving only the tip in, then comes back in with a dry, sure thump a couple of times, to start moving faster and faster and harder. Part of you wonders if he really means what he said about coming inside you to place his ownership over you, and at the very thought you can't help but tighten the walls of your pussy around him.

"Do you like the idea? Of having my cum inside you dripping down your thighs, letting everyone know you're mine?" He says and you can't help but gasp, the pleasure clouding your mind. "Shit, I can already picture you all proud and strutting walking down the school hallways, no panties on, while everyone stares at you and in your lap all my cum. Who knows maybe I could even get you pregnant." Remus continues, as you moan his name louder and louder, hearing what he says. The young wolf can swear that by now the beast inside him has become uncontainable, the only thing he can think about is coming inside you and making sure you have her pups, to bite you and let everyone know you are uniquely hers, in such an animal way that he is surprised you are not fucking in the woods, just like two wild creatures, since you have now become that: pleasure-seeking animals to survive.

"Remus, come inside me. I'm close to coming again, please." You beg him, after a few minutes have passed in silence, too busy fucking each other to talk.

"First you baby then I will make sure you can have my puppies, however, first you have to squeeze that beautiful pussy you have around my cock. Come for me baby."

And at those words you can't help but come one more time. Your head becomes light, as if floating, as your vision darkens. Your pussy squeezes hard and in rhythm with Remus's cock, which stimulated by your orgasm goes to meet his, letting all his seed pour into you in long, powerful spurts.

You remain still and connected for a few minutes before Remus begins to laugh. You look at him confused and tired, ready for yet another joke from him at you and even more personal teasing after such an intimate moment, when he leaves you a light kiss on your cheek and asks, "Do you really think I would ever be able to hate you, I was convinced you couldn't stand even the sight of me."

Smile in turn as you look at him, before you also speak.

"Well apparently neither of them is as smart in the end as they think they are I would say."

Bonus (I think I definitely have a problem with bonuses)

Sirius looks at his friend, sitting next to him on the settee, as he sees you re-enter holding Remus's hand at the party, now decidedly calmer than an hour and a half ago, when both of you had left without a trace and without telling anyone where you were going. The two of you approach the liquor table, laughing and joking as you look into each other's eyes, with a smile that says a lot about your nocturnal activities in the hallways, though only to those who are able to pick up on the signs.

Sirius and James seeing that exchange look at each other and jumping to their feet scream in unison:

"He did it!" Turning many loving couples around, including their friend and you, watching them confusedly do a dance of joy between bodies of boys asleep from exhaustion and alcohol, not knowing that this night would be the end of you, as they would forever use it against you as an argument in every speech to prove that two such smart people can be, by far, the dumbest.

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[justmediocrewriting]

Hi!! I don't know if your requests are open still, but could you do a luffy x reader fiction where she feels insecure sometimes at the fact that luffy didn't ask her to join the crew. The reader asked first out of desperation or excitement, and now sometimes wonders if she would have even been on the crew if she didn't approach first. And of course Luffy comforts her and makes her feel more secure about it.

Thank you!! 🦭

“Why wouldn’t I?” {m.d.l}

Summary: you’d never been one to second guess yourself — and you remained happy with your decision to ask the captain of the Straw Hats to take you on their seafaring journey — but in the last few days, you’d begun to feel more and more unsure of the decisions you’d made up until this point; namely because of the knowledge that Luffy had asked every other member of the crew to join, except you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: Luffy x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Requested: ✅

Warnings: brief depictions of insecurity

A/n: thank you so much for your request nonnie! My requests are always open; though getting them out in a timely matter is another thing entirely. You know, when I’d first started this blog, I expected all of my works to be about Sanji, but I’ve been writing for Luffy more and more — and to be honest, I kinda really like it 🤭

{=================================}

The atmosphere in the galley was calm; Sanji had retired for the night, but was confident enough to leave Luffy under your supervision within the room, and you in turn had offered to wash the rest of the dishes for him — the man was clearly exhausted, and if you could take some weight off of him, you were more than happy to.

Luffy was currently devouring some extra lamb legs that Sanji had generously told him he could eat, and the silence in the room was companionable — but the confines of your mind were not. Despite the calmness, your brain was a whirlwind of negative and impulsive thoughts.

It had been roughly three weeks since you’d asked to join the Strawhats, and truthfully, you wondered just how wanted you were.

Your askance was brought upon by sheer excitement; your humble little village never saw much action, seeing as it was tucked away on an island that was small enough to be a pebble. It was both a good and a bad thing — your village was never raided by terrible pirates, but it was definitely a bore, and the quaint little bakery you owned offered services to the same exact faces every day.

That was until they arrived; the infamous Strawhats and their captain. You’d recognized them the minute they’d walked in. Luffy was the easiest to recognize, as you’d seen his face plastered in the news before, bearing an ungodly bounty of thirty million berry. To say you were nervous in his presence was an understatement; given what had been told of the pirate, of his crew and their atrocious actions, you weren’t sure what he’d do, or what his intentions were. You were on the defensive immediately, one hand dropping below the counter to wrap around the barrel of the shotgun in case you needed to draw it.

But Luffy had simply approached the counter and gazed excitedly at the array of sweets displayed behind the glass container; and when he met your eyes with a wide smile and asked for one of every pastry, you felt your heart melt — the rubbery man was just too adorable for his own good, and despite the rumors that had been spread across the seas of his viciousness, you couldn’t help but relax in his presence, his exuberant and innocent aura immediately washing away every bad thing you’d heard about him.

Hundreds of pastries later and many tells of their adventures on the sea, you had come to a conclusion; you would ask to join his crew, to sail the seas with him, and find the legendary treasure, One Piece.

You weren’t sure why, but all of his tales and his excitement bled into you, and your heart began beating rapidly as you were overcome by the urge to experience exactly what he had — you wanted to feel that freedom, that excitement of adventure. At first when you asked, you weren’t sure if he’d even say yes; after all, you were just a small time baker barely scraping by on poor rations, and you had no experience at sea or on a boat whatsoever, and upon first look you didn’t exactly scream pirate.

But then again, neither did a good number of the crew.

You’d set sail with them just the next morning, without so much as bidding goodbye to any of the other villagers — there were plenty of other bakeries within the village, if you weren’t there to sell bread and pastries the inhabitants could get them elsewhere easily. You didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about leaving your village behind, though as time went on, you began to feel guilty about asking to join; not because you regretted your decision, but because you couldn’t help but feel as though you had burdened the crew somehow.

With no real skills to offer, you’d resorted to helping out in any way you could; scrubbing the deck, washing the dishes, helping Sanji with prep, doing laundry, fishing, recording stock, and every other odd job you could fit into your schedule. It had helped to alleviate some of your negativity, but when you’d learned the stories of how Nami, Zoro, Usopp and Sanji joined the crew, it all just flooded back into you — because obviously Luffy had seen something within them that made them worthy to be on his crew, so much so that he practically begged them to join.

So why were you on the crew?

You paused in your rinsing and cast a weary glance at your captain, who was completely oblivious to your inner agony, still digging into the lamb legs like a man starved. Your heart cinched within your chest, and you felt tears stinging at your eyes. Did Luffy even really want you here? Or did he just agree to bring you along because he felt sorry for you? You’d never had a good filter on your mouth, so that inward thought quickly became an outward question.

“Luffy, do you even want me here?” You wanted your voice to sound strong, to convey nonchalance or maybe even anger, but it came out muted and weak — all the insecurity and desperation that you tried so hard to keep shoved down bubbled up to saturate each and every word.

Luffy paused his chewing for only a moment, his brows furrowed ever so slightly, then, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “of course I do, (Y/N). Why wouldn’t I?”

You wanted to laugh, because his answer was just so Luffy, but you held in the sound because you just knew that it would come out choked and wet — the last thing you wanted was for Luffy to see the evidence of just how weak you are. If he didn’t want you to join in the first place, as you were sure was already the case even if his words opposed it, you knew that seeing you in such a state would only make his conviction grow.

You were silent for a long moment, the only noise being the backdrop of waves splashing against the hull of the Merry and the slightly wet smacks of Luffy’s chewing. Biting your lip, you briefly wondered if you should be honest with Luffy; that would be for the best, wouldn’t it? What was it that they say? Rip the bandaid off? With a heavy sigh you parted your lips to speak, but Luffy swallowed his bite loudly and cut you off.

“I mean, you’re a great baker. And you’re kind, compassionate, and you really care for everyone on the crew. You’re always asking if we’re okay, if we need anything, and any time one of us is feeling down, you always do your best to pick us up. You’re thoughtful, too; if you see something you think one of will like or if it reminds you of us, you get it for us. Like that time that you bought me that stuffed monkey from that town, because you said it reminded you of me.”

You were speechless — you weren’t even aware that Luffy had noticed that about you, and the more his words registered, the more your skin heated until you felt as if it would burst into flames. Luffy didn’t seem to have the same issue; he just continued to bite into the lamb leg as if what he’d just said didn’t just discombobulate you at the seams.

After fumbling for a few seconds you finally found your ability to speak. “I-it’s just… you didn’t ask me to join, like you did with everyone else.”

“Because you asked first,” Luffy said without missing a beat, the sunniest of smiles painted on his face, making your heart thump crazily within your chest as it tightened.

Warm smile still plastered on his face, Luffy placed his half eaten lamb leg on the plate with the rest (and some nearly clean bones) and slipped from the stool. Your heart sped up with each step Luffy took towards you, and by the time he was standing in front of you, you felt as if the organ would beat right out of your chest.

“I was going to ask you either way, (Y/N). I knew I wanted you on my crew from the moment I talked to you.”

Luffy’s hand reached out and gently plucked the plate from your grasp, dropping it into the soapy water with a soft thud that made you wince in sympathy for the fine ware. When your hand was empty, Luffy grabbed it in his own, and you swore your heart completely stopped in that instance. You wet your lips and glanced up at him shyly.

“Why? Why did you want me to join?” Your voice was soft, bashful, his words and close proximity making it nearly impossible to think — but his smile was so bright that it easily cut through the fog in your mind.

“Because I really like you! I want to eat your delicious pastries every day. And I want to sail the Grand Line with you, and find the One Piece together.”

You stared at Luffy with wide eyes, cheeks heating rapidly as you processed his words.

“L-Luffy, do you mean y-you—”

“Yes, I like you a lot, (Y/N).” Luffy cut you off, his hand squeezing yours tighter. “And I want you by my side. I’m sorry you ever thought differently. I promise you’ll never feel that way again.”

With those words Luffy pulled you into a tight embrace, arms wrapping around you and pressing you flush against his lean body. Luffy was so warm, so open, so genuine, that you were helpless to do much else other than melt into his embrace.

You didn’t think you could love being on the sea more than you did, but Luffy just made it ten times better, and any and all regret you’d had previously was washed away like a stream to the sea.

[v4mpgutz]

can u do smth where ethan buys reader a promise ring pls 🥹 ur fics are amazing 💜

Paper Rings, Ethan Landry [ ONESHOT ]

— i like shiny things but i'd marry you with paper rings

non-gf ethan landry x gn reader -> dating

note: THIS REQUEST AHHH i've been waiting to base a fic off of this song for a while i kiss ur head and i'm glad you enjoy my fics !!

warnings ! — none, just a whole lot of tooth-rotting fluff! + reader doesn't have a specified gender but this was written with an afab reader in mind — nothing points to this fact though ! :)

you and ethan hadn't been together for all that long, a year and a half at most. it took him a while to comprehend the depth of his feelings for you and it was really scary for him.

growing up having been pressured to constantly be as good as or better than his older brother really messed with his head. he constantly had doubts that he wouldn't be good enough for you and that you deserved someone better — someone that wasn't him.

over the course of the first few weeks you and ethan had actually been together, there was cute little dates, hand-holding, giggling into little (sometimes awkward) kisses and him trying to get a grasp on his feelings.

majority of the time he couldn't quite put a finger on what emotions he was feeling. sometimes he thought he was angry when he was really just sad, sometimes he thought he was anxious when he was actually excited.

with you, though? he'd never understood an emotion so clearly in his life.

his heart was filled with love for you, that he knew. love so pure and soft and gentle that it felt like almost nothing could tarnish it. you made him understand himself better — you encouraged him when he would beat himself up over bad grades, you loved him; and he loved you too.

that was precisely the reason why he found himself buying you a promise ring. he'd seen you eyeing a specific one each time you shopped together and you'd talked about promise rings to him a few times.

originally, he didn't know how to feel about those because what if it jinxed your relationship? what if you ended up splitting off and going your seperate ways?

however, after a few weeks just spent thinking it over — all up in his head about it; he decided he wanted to get you one. it'd be a surprise, of course.

one night he had your hand next to his, a measuring tape over the width of both of your fingers. he acted like he was simply comparing handsizes, laughing when you pointed out that he was measuring the wrong way.

"oh, you're right, baby," he chuckled but made a mental note of the size of your left ring finger.

the next time you went to the mall together he kissed your cheek gently before pulling his hand away from yours. "i'll be back, angel," he told you, "just need to go to the bathroom."

you nodded and sat on a bench in the food court, mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you waited for him.

he made sure you weren't looking before he snuck off to the jewellery store, wanting to be as quick as possible so you wouldn't get suspicious. as soon as he was being served, he told the employee the exact ring and size.

it was made to be, it seemed, when the older woman told him that was the last of that ring in that size they had in stock.

he smiled brightly and thanked the woman, paying (quite a hefty price) and slipping the little box into his pocket. he'd get a matching one for himself later, he thought.

when you'd both gotten back to your apartment (which pretty much belonged to the both of you now), he'd sat down with you on the sofa. he kissed your hands gently and pulled you into his chest, the two of you sitting there together in silence for a few minutes — just in eachother's company.

he felt his stomach bubbling up with nerves but pushed them back down. nothing was going to ruin this moment. he cleared his throat to which you perked up, pulling away from him to look into his eyes.

"i don't know much about how to do these things without being awkward," he mumbled as his eyes looked anywhere but at you.

"i wanted this to be special and i know that it's been hard... dealing with me and all, but now i know that i can trust you. i really feel like.. like you understand me better than anyone else ever has before and i can confidently say that i love you."

he took a shaky breath, a smile plastering itself onto his face.

"i know we're still young but i truly think i want to spend the rest of my life with you," he went on as your eyes widened in fear somewhat. "th— this isn't a proposal!" he quickly reassured you, to which you calmed.

he pulled the box out of his pocket and presented the ring to you, "not a proposal — but a promise that one day, there will be one."

he watched as your eyes lit up, tears gathering along your waterline as you let out a choked sob with a smile. you hugged him tight and took the ring, holding it tenderly in your hands.

ethan watched as you slipped it onto your left ring finger, kissing his cheek and then his lips.

"thank you so much, eth. it's beautiful, i love you."

the brunette-haired boy looked away, bashful before turning back to you and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "there's honestly nothing i wouldn't do for you."

you admired the ring before glancing at his own left hand, "where's yours?" you asked with a frown.

he laughed awkwardly and chewed his bottom lip, "didn't have the money to get it but i knew i had to get yours today."

ethan looked up, confused as he saw you get up from the couch and heard the jingle of your keys. "where are you going?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"we're going to get your half of the promise."

your boyfriend simply stared at you, a puzzled look on his face. "i don't have enough money though? i just said that."

you smiled at him, eyes squinted slightly, "i'm buying it. promises are fifty-fifty."

i loved writing this sm omg

[noirflms]

୧ ˚₊ EVERYBODY’S FALLING IN LOVE ( AND I’M FALLING BEHIND ) — itoshi sae

he has never been a lover, but the day he met you, he finally found what love felt like.

itoshi sae has never been a lover, because love has never been his cup of tea. it certainly not his thing to love, or do anything related to this word; he just dislikes it, for it leaves a sour taste in his mind. he has seen people around him fall in love, be so infatuated with the very thought of it, while dopey and lovesick grins stay on their faces.

and in that sense, itoshi sae is not a lover.

love to him is like a sour candy, too sour to contemplate that it might leave your taste buds numb for a while. love to him is fragile, and it is not in him to take care of delicate things, and a thing like that, he might just back out as is. he doesn’t like the way makes you weak, he’d rather be brave and have a harsh front rather than a soft and gentle one.

love is for the weak in his dictionary, it is for people who don’t have any strengths, to him love is just a mere words, a meaningless and a waste of time, to itoshi sae love is just a hindrance, nothing more or nothing less.

but sometimes a change of perspective could bring one to have a different view, and that was what brought itoshi sae to think about the world love again, a new point of view he gathered through a dreamy lens, one that was conjured up by the likes of you, a certain someone that brought him to like the way love felt.

a lot changed the day he met you, quite like a slap to his face ( literally ).

flashing cameras and crowding paparazzis are all he sees, they are quite blinding for sae, but he is used to bright lights and this lifestyle, having been a self made prodigy, he was surrounded by cameras and paparazzis. but he hated having eyes on him, for then he couldn’t have a life out of this captured world.

it’s always an article where he has been shammed or either an article which quite literally ensues rumours of him being a womaniser — having a new girl at his arm every week. it leaves a bitter taste in his mind to even think about such absurdities, so this time he was by himself at the latest football gala, a party for all the new club members to be exact.

sae finds it hard to be in the focus of everyone, men and women alike all like to be around him, but women are more to throw themselves at him, he despises the very fact such women exist. strained and fake smiles are all he shows, jaw clenched as he talks with men with mindset’s so different, five glasses of wine have been emptied by him since the time of arrival.

so soon he finds himself wanting fresh air, a breather from all this chaos, he finds a way out as soon as the lights dim and all focus on the stage in the room. he is silent as a predator is, and as good as an escape artist to make such an escapade but seems like the gods were not in his right, for as soon as he turns the corner, his cheek meets with a hand and it begins to sting.

never in a million years had itoshi sae thought of getting smacked in the entirety of the premiere.

“oh my gosh! i’m so sorry! i thought you were a stalker or something!” it’s a heavy accent he realises but the stinging on his cheek overlooks anything that happens around him. he shakes his head focusing at the voice at hand, but his heart almost leaps out of his chest at the sight before him.

( e.c ) eyes that gleam with worry as it seems to etch itself upon your features, you bite your lip in distress as you take notice of the red mark on his cheek, but his eyes are set on the way you bite your lip and he gulps, heart thumping in his chest. you observe his face that is just looking at you in awe, and as he looks into your eyes he realises you have no clue of who he was.

“i’m so so sorry!” the voice of yours breaks his stupor and the ache upon his cheek returns — it sure was a hard slap. you gulp as you see him fix his jaw, you swallow hard, the way he was suited up to the nines made you figure out that he was much more than just a creep; he looked famous.

your blood runs cold at the thought. your heart racing in your chest, as you await any loud gesture or shout for guards, or anything related to you being thrown out made your head spin.

“it’s alright, i was the one that turned the corner unannounced.” and sae is bamboozled at the words that slip past him, he looks at you, his eyes wide, and he notices your tense demeanour relax. a heavy sigh escaping briefly past your lips as you look up at him with a smile.

“but i-, um, i still apologise for the inconvenience.” you awkwardly chuckle, not cool [name], not cool, a voice rings in your head as you bite your tongue. it is then you make eye contact with him, his eyes are quite unlike any, and to him, yours were better than any. sae likes the way your eyes look like a hazy dream, he likes the way his reflection looks back at him through your eyes.

and in the moment he realised that he liked the way you looked at him, for you saw him for him, and not for the famous persona of his.

and since then, it’s been encounters here and there, finding each other at places you thought you’d never, bumping shoulder in areas one could have never fathomed. it turns from light glances to lingering ones, timid laughter turns into ones filled with nothing but genuine joy, small talks turn into conversation that ring through coffee shops.

then one hangout at his place, turns into a date at a place you like. then one date turns into two, then three, then four and soon they turn into long nights spend at your cost apartment, to ranging from movie nights at his. longing touches turn into never letting go of you, kisses that were once pressed onto his cheeks begin to linger upon his lips.

but itoshi sae was not a lover, so he never named the thing you had with him, but he liked that way you felt in his arms, he liked the way you fit right with him, he liked the taste of your lips on his, he liked the way you were his, yet not for him to keep.

for love was not meant for him, so then why did his heart ache at the thought of seeing you go. the mere thought of you being with another was like a nightmare to him, the very thought of you not being his, was utter torture for the said male.

yet here he was, a coward, he once again was a little boy who was scared to face the world to early, and love was once again becoming the victor and he could not accept defeat. he has watched many flourish within love, yet it wasn’t in him to be able to bear this sweet fruit of entanglement.

“you’re kind of stupid, you know that sae.” and for a moment, oliver aiku sounded right, he sounded to be much more truthful in the heat of the moment than he ever could be, much more better than itoshi sae was what oliver aiku had become in that instance. “certainly you look like a coward to me right now.”

and those were the last words, sae had heard from oliver before he was up on his feet, they ached as he rushed to your house, panting and huffing as he finds the door to your house to be right before him, shaky hands tremble in fear to press the doorbell, heart racing, he liked you, so what was there to fear in that.

as soon as his trembling hands press the bell and the door to your house opens, it takes everything in him to stop him from pressing his lips against yours. you were the only thing matter to him the most, in present and in future, you’ll be the sole thing that he’d like to call his forever and ever.

that fickle day itoshi sae had learnt so much more. he had learnt that love was not for the weak but for people who knew what strengthened them to the core. he learned that love was not bitter or sour, it was just missing from the right person and when you fall in love with the one that you know is true, you’ll know how sweet is the taste of the fruit.

and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t falling behind in any prospect anymore, especially in the case of love, for he had you.

the sole thing the brought him to a purpose he could have never known.

i like a chase, and itoshi sae is a man who certainly hates the idea of love but internally wishes to find just the right one ;)

NOIRFLMS 2023 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission. REBLOG MORE PLEASE !

[angelbvnny]

How they show their love

Gn!Reader, sfw

Genshin mens love languages

Tartaglia, Wanderer, Kaveh, Ayato

Tartaglia

He definitely loves gift giving. Have you seen how he treats his siblings? Buying them anything and everything any chance he gets. He's the exact same way with you. Tartaglia adores showering you with gifts. No matter the price he'll buy it without a second thought. Although it can be a little uncomfortable at times, when you think about the amount of mora being spent on you, but you know this is just his way of letting you know he cares <3

His favorite thing to gift you is clothing! He likes picking out outfits for you to wear, insisting on having a little fashion show just for the two of you. He just thinks you're so cute in the clothes he picks out for you :) any time there's an event you both have to attend you can be certain there will be a brand new outfit waiting for you on your bed.

Besides gift giving, he's also big with physical touch. Ajax is quite a control freak, constantly feeling the need to have full control over any situation. This means he needs to be touching you in some way at all times, to tell you (and himself) that you're safe. No matter where you are, he will have his arm wrapped around you or be holding onto your hand.

He's also just a very touchy person! Even before you started dating there was many pats on the back and hands on your shoulder. He just doesn't have boundaries that most people have, and doesn't realize he doesn't have them. You find it very endearing when he grabs hold of you without even realizing.

Wanderer

He has a hard time expressing his feelings for you so acts of service is his favorite. When he isn't doing something to purposefully make your life harder, because let's be honest, his favorite thing in the world is to irritate you, he does what he can to make every other part of it easier. Any time he comes over he'll bring food for you to have dinner with him, always being sure to bring your favorite, even if he doesn't like it.

If you're crammed with work or school and leave your place unattended to become dirty, and he comes over? He'll go on and on about how messy and unorganized you are and how if HE were living with you he'd never let it get like this. Complaining about the state of the room and how miserable it's making him, all while throwing away the trash, putting up clothes, and organizing your things. You notice but choose to keep it to yourself <3

Something as equally important to him is quality time. Scara can get very lonely, very quickly, without you. You don't even need to be talking, in fact he quite enjoys the silence, just being in the presence of his love is enough to keep him at peace. Although he prefers it to just be the two of you, no matter where he's at, it's much more bearable with you around.

He really enjoys taking naps with you, although what you're unaware of, is that it's rare that he actually sleeps. He will close his eyes and wait until your breathing slows and your hold on him loosens, then open his eyes and simply observe you. He loves getting to watch you in such a relaxed state. He will trace the shape of your nose, your mouth, your jaw, with his finger tip, moving your hair to get a better view of your face. He's able to do things he'd never be able to do with you conscious, and able to tease him.

Kaveh

Kaveh is SO clingy so physical touch is a give-in. You're basically his personal teddy bear. Even if he's extremely busy with a project he will insist that you sit on his lap while he works. There have been many late nights that you fall asleep hugging his chest as he continues to work. You being there is the only thing that gets him through the night sometimes.

His excessive cuddling only gets worse when he drinks. As he stumbles through the door, skin flushed on his face, you know it will be a long night. He will coo at you saying how cute you are, squeezing your cheeks, and playing with your hair. You have to be appreciative of his delirious state, unable to notice the way your face heats up at his compliments. Eventually he will conk out on top of you, holding you close.

He also adores words of affirmation. He enjoys telling you just how much he loves you, in great detail. He's always sure to praise you for your efforts, whether big or small. I feel like he would leave sticky notes around your house for you to find like, "You're going to do great today!" Or "Looking beautiful as ever" and it's soooo cheesy but you can't help but love it.

He's always sure to tell others about your accomplishments aswell! His friends and colleagues are probably sick of it by now but he can't help but bring you up in every conversation. Gloating about how amazing you are, because how could he not when he has the best partner in the world??

Ayato

He enjoys acts of service. Ayato is a very observant man. So if he notices that you have even the littlest problem, he will be right on it. He will send as much staff as he deems necessary to aid you. Can he go a little overboard sometimes? Yes. But you can't help but giggle when you make an off handed comment about your back hurting, and the next day you have an appointment with inazuma's best masseuse.

Even if there isn't a problem, he doesn't want his love to have to lift a finger. You've made attempts to help around the estate in various ways but are quickly shut down as he makes a comment about how "that's what Thoma's there for." It's not that he doesn't WANT your help, in fact, the idea of eating your home cooked meals sounds very enticing, it's just that he wants to help lighten the load of things you need to do as much as he can.

Gift giving is another way he shows you that he loves you. Mora isn't an issue with him and he makes that quite clear. Like previously stated, he notices the little things. If you are out in the city and he notices you eyeing a certain tea set, he will 100% buy it. Ayato adores the surprised look on your face when you're presented with the item, you didn't think that he even saw you glimpsing at.

You will always have the newest brand jewelry and clothing. You are his future spouse, which means you are associated with the Kamisato Clan, so of course you have to look your best. That's his reasoning to you of course, really he just loves putting his darling in the highest quality items there is. In his eyes you're an absolute gem, so no amount of mora would ever be too much.

[allastoredeer]

No hate, just asking.

So you just personally like bottomAlastor and make every ship with him as bottom because of your personal likes. But this works the same way with bottomLucifer. People liking it and making him bottom in any ship. Or liking topAlastor and making him top in every ship. Maybe there are people who just go with trends in ship dynamics, but a lot of shippers just like it without any 'making mlm into hetero' meaning. Yes even when making Lucifer a bit more feminine since they do it in every ship simply cause more feminine Lucifer does things to them.

Exactly 👉👉 people like what they like and they don't need to defend or give me a list of reasons why they like it. I figured people liked bottom!Lucifer or top!Alastor because it scratches that itch for them (much like me with bottom!Alastor), otherwise they wouldn't be writing/drawing it at all.

It's why I don't seek out fans I disagree with or lurk on their pages/blogs to bombard them with reasons why I, personally, don't like how they depict radioapple (and because that's just a shitty thing to do in general, and no should be doing that. That's a one-way ticket to turning fandom into a very toxic place).

I keep my opinions and thoughts to my blog page for that reason. This is place where I can write about the things I like and dislike, post my art and fics, and interact with fans who share the same thoughts and feelings as I do. I'm sure a lot of fans would disagree, but, to me, most of the depictions of radioapple that I've seen come off as incredibly hetero coded, and a lot of the way Alastor is drawn/written squicks me out, especially when he tops. And that's not in the way that he's overly sexualized or anything, imma gonna sexualize that man to my heart's content, but Alastor's ace identity means a lot to me, and a lot of the time I just...don't feel it with him.

Now there's no "correct" way to write an ace character, as its a spectrum. There isn't a checklist of things you HAVE to follow. But with Alastor, especially when it's in a written work - especially when it's HIS pov - he doesn't feel ace. You can't tell that someone is ace based on how they talk or act - not usually - just like you can't assume a man is gay based on how he runs or talks, or a woman a lesbian because she has a short haircut. But in his POV, we're supposed to be in his head, we're seeing his thoughts and emotions. It's the perfect time to explore what he feels and thinks about relationships, sex, and everything in between, and yet most of the time he reads like any other non-ace character. It's like there's no real thought or consideration given to his identity and the experiences that come with it. Asexuality is more than "don't like sex" or "only like sex sometimes," there's so much more to it than that.

But I also know that this may be the first time some people are interacting or playing with an ace character, and just the fact that they're trying - however unintentionally aphobic it comes off sometimes - the effort is appreciated.

It's a real back and forth thing for me, obviously, LOL fandom culture and spaces can be so frustrating but so fascinating at the same time.

I don't think anyone is intentionally making the ship hetero, nor do they mean to - and besides, this is how I feel, and I know everyone isn't going to feel the exact same way. I'm sure there are people who see it as a very queer relationship, and I'm not going to judge or fight them over it. Everyone has different perspective, after all.

At the end of the day, I don't mind bottom!Lucifer (I see him as a switch, so he definitely enjoys bottoming), I just don't like how he's written/drawn with top!Alastor. It's the depiction of it that turns me off. I've seen top!Alastor and bottom!Lucifer art before that I have liked, but its few and far between, and overall not worth diving into to root out the few pieces I've enjoyed.

I like feminine Lucifer, but not to the extent that I've seen. I like the masculine side of him too, especially because he's a shortie. I like masculine Alastor, but I adore his feminine side. Alastor exudes so much gender, it's insane. He pulls off masculine, feminine, and even non-binary so well. He's versatile ❤️ And it aggravates me when he's depicted as super masculine and all the other stuff is toned down, if not stripped away.

But, like I said, that's why I stay in my little corner and I focus on what I enjoy. Ranting about things you don't like in fandom isn't bad, especially with fans that agree with you. It's very cathartic actually, and I've felt more connected with the fandom than I have since the show aired. it's only when you make your emotions, thoughts, and opinions other people's problems that it becomes a negative thing.

I'm not here to rain on people's parades, so I support, encourage even, that those who do like the things I dislike (and don't enjoy seeing me clown on them) block me. No hard feelings from me. I get it.

Damn, these posts really run away from me. They get so much longer than I intend XD

But anyway, I'm glad people are having fun with super feminine bottom!Lucifer and super masculine top!Alastor, that's the whole point of fandom, but it just isn't for me, at all, and I will likely continue to rant/clown on it with the fans who also share my opinion. I'm not going to shove it anyone's face of course, I'm keeping it to my blog, and I am A-okay with being blocked if that's not something people want to see 😊

[compressedrage]

*barges in* Your Hollow Head Siblings hc's, hand 'em over!!!! 🔫

(But fr, gotta love your thoughs, they're neat and scratch my brain juuuust right!!!)

YOU HAVE OPENED THE FLOOD GATES MY ANONYMOUS FRIEND

Keep in mind I am very tired rn so this will likely be very unpolished okay here we go–

The order of age goes Victim Chosen Dark Orange, we all know this, but I think for a long time Dark thought he and Chosen were a lot closer in age than they actually were. Chosen had to warm up to telling Dark about all the horrible things he went through, and that included the fact that he was alone for four years. (it's four years right? it might be five. I can't be bothered to look it up rn, its fine)

In between the Showdown and Wanted Orange is starting to think of Chosen as an older brother. He connected the dots to figure out that Chosen was also made by Alan and he saved them! He's so cool! This idea was only a little bit shattered when this older brother figure barged into the PC and kidnapped him and promptly got them both captured. But honestly what are older siblings for.

In canon Chosen does not let himself feel emotions enough for him to see Orange as a little brother, but the connection is there. He'll come around :)

SPEAKING OF CONNECTIONS– I recently had this idea that the Hollowheads had some sort of empathy-telepathy with each other. For example, one normal day out in the Outernet Chosen feels the exact moment Orange was created. He doesn't know what that feeling meant, and he never felt it again. Orange felt drawn to this new stick figure who saved their lives, and immediately follows him through the portal. Chosen felt something snap in his chest the moment Dark died. Orange and Victim lock eyes for a moment in the Box and feel something click. None of them talk about it, but it's there.

(that last one might qualify as an AU, who knows maybe I'll do something with it)

This one is more of a wish than a headcanon– Chosen takes Orange under his wing at some point, teaching him how to use his powers as best he can. However, since Orange's powers are rather different from Chosen's, it just results in a chaotic sparring session and setting a field on fire. The CG are not amused by the amount of bruises Orange gets, but Orange is having an absolute blast.

Orange is Chosen's "Second Coming"– surely that comes with consequences. I saw a hc where they shared portions of code and I liked that; something like Orange and Chosen have similar tastes in foods. Their eyes shine the same way when they smile. Sometimes they accidentally speak in unison because they each had the exact same thought. When stuff gets serious, they both narrow their eyes and make an expression that promises pain on their enemies.

Dark would be the best big brother and let me tell you why. Orange is often left with the Braincell of the CG. Have you seen how stressed this boy gets. He gets premonitions of his friends getting hurt. Dark allows him to mess around a bit more, in a "We might get in trouble, isn't that fun!!" kind of way. Orange has always had a chaotic streak, it just takes certain circumstances for him to tap into it. They would be able to get Red back for his pranking.

Orange would teach Chosen and Dark all about modern video games. They know video games, sure, they destroyed Angry Birds. But I think playing Minecraft would solve both of their problems. At least a lot of them.

I don't have many headcanons for Victim, I just haven't seen enough of him to get a solid enough foundation to make headcanons, but as an oldest child I can relate to him on a spiritual level. He may be gray now but with those three as younger siblings he's gonna get a whole lot grayer.

Gosh I love them so much, a house with all four Hollowheads would be the most chaotic house ever. Victim– the eldest with an actual job, no nonsense, the less-than-respected Holder of the Braincell. Since he is out of the house a lot because of Job, the responsibility falls to Chosen– older middle child, delinquent, failure of a cook and the only one Dark will listen to. Speaking of Dark– younger middle child, Chaos Incarnate, fellow delinquent and Escape Artist Extraordinaire, he is a terrible influence on the youngest– Orange. Orange is the black sheep of the family in that he is actually rather emotionally stable. He's in school, has friends, hobbies– his brothers just a bit jealous but supportive anyway. He also helps Dark prank the others; he's got great aim with water balloon catapults.

I cannot impress upon you enough how much they love each other. Their lives have been filled with isolation, suffering, rejection– but now they've found family in likewise people. None of them are alone anymore. Sure, Orange wasn't really alone to begin with, but surely he noticed how different he was from RYGB. He's not replacing them, not for a million dollars, but it is nice to have brothers who are similar to you.

[stranger-rants]

@disco-deviant

I’ve thought of this, but in terms of years… with a little rearranging of what’s given when. Here’s Part I of II. I’ll be posting the second part tomorrow.

March 29, 1985

Billy turns 18. It’s a Friday. Steve leaves a box of earrings in his locker. Tucked inside is a note that says “you know who” written in chicken scratch with a crude smiley face.

Steve is big on grand gestures, but this thing is new between them and he doesn’t want to scare Billy off. It’s mostly just make out sessions and sloppy handjobs to chase away the loneliness. He found out through the grapevine that it would be Billy’s birthday soon. He saw the earrings in a shop, and he knew they’d look good on Billy. So of course he bought them.

When Billy arrives on his doorstep later that night, golden feather dangling from his ear, Steve pulls him in by the waist. Says, “Fuck, you look so good birthday boy.”

Billy leans in, breath ghosting over Steve’s lips. Asks, “These earrings for me or for you?”

March 29th 1986

Billy turns 19. It’s a Saturday. Billy has spent months in recovery - multiple surgeries, physical therapy, counseling. Steve’s trying to be a good… boyfriend? Lover? Friend? He’s not sure. Billy’s been mentally miles away. Says little. Jolts, sometimes, in response to touch. Still.

Billy hasn’t worn his medallion in a while. He can’t. It was ripped off of him when the EMTs were trying to stabilize him, and put in a small zip locked plastic bag for safe keeping. The chain was irreparably broken, and the medallion was covered in blood.

Whenever Steve visited him in the hospital, he’d notice Billy absent-mindedly touch his chest. At first, he thought it was a self conscious reaction to his scars, but over time he saw that Billy would always touch the exact spot where the medallion used to hang as if feeling it’s phantom presence and his heart would break when he realized it wasn’t there. Steve knew then what he had to do.

He gets the medallion cleaned and polished, and a pretty gold chain to hang it on. Billy cries when he sees it. Begs Steve to help him put it on, and Steve nods, “Yes, of course.”

March 29th 1987

Billy turns 20. It’s a Sunday. Billy officially moved in with Steve a few months ago with the few items he had from his old bedroom. An old couch they should probably kick to the curb. A dusty stereo that takes up way too much space. And then there’s the wooden crates which double as storage and a flat surface for his makeshift vanity, cluttered with colognes and hair spray.

Steve wants him to feel comfortable in his home - their home, but everything Billy brings with him screams “making do” when they could easily do better.

So, Steve devises a plan to refurbish an old dresser-vanity he found at good will. It’s not something he’s done before, but he was decent in shop class so he thinks he can figure it out. How hard could it be?

It’s a pain in the ass as it turns out, but well worth Billy’s reaction. He guides Billy into their bedroom with his hands over Billy’s eyes. “Ta-da!” Steve says, pulling his hands away. Billy spends a good few seconds in shock. Then he’s shoving Steve’s dorky ass against the edge of the vanity, furiously kissing him.

March 29th 1988

Billy turns 21. It’s a Tuesday.

Billy’s made so much progress over the past few years, but intimacy… that’s an ongoing struggle. Steve can’t know what it was like. Having that thing living inside Billy. Billy spends a lot of time in front of the vanity, not out of vanity itself but in a way trying to get reacquainted with his own body.

For a person who stares at himself so much when he thinks Steve isn’t looking, Billy doesn’t seem to want to be seen when they make love. He insists on keeping the lights off and keeping his torso covered. When Steve’s hands wander up and under his shirt seeking out his chest, Billy repositions his hands on his thighs instead… which he loves, but Steve can’t help the fact he’s always been a boobs guy.

“Don’t have to do that, y’know…” Billy mutters late one night when they’re curled up.

“Do what?”

“I… I know it looks bad,” Billy sighs, “you don’t have to make me feel better about it.”

Steve’s heart breaks in two. He’s not sure what to say.

“Do you not want me to touch you there?”

“You don’t have to.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Steve says, “I asked if you don’t want me to touch you there, because I love this part of you but if you don’t like it then-”

“I like it! …I like it, but it’s not…”

Steve rolls Billy onto his back, stopping him from his rambling of self loathing.

“Then let me love you the way we both want me to love you.”

For Billy’s birthday, Steve buys him a silky red button down shirt and an expensive cologne that he sets down on Billy’s vanity. Billy wears them both to their dinner date, keeping every button buttoned except for the very top one not loving the feeling of a tight collar around his neck. When they fall into bed that night, Steve inhales the ocean scent of the new cologne on Billy’s neck and works his way down kissing his chest.

“This okay?”

Steve unbuttons the next button slowly.

Billy nods. Nervous, but he takes a deep breath.

Steve unbuttons the next one. Then the next, leaving a trail of kisses over his scars. Billy’s body shivers and his nipples perk up underneath the silky fabric of the shirt. Steve can’t wait to get his mouth on them. Show Billy just how much he loves his body. How he will always love his body.

[stranger-theory]

Song & Scene Analysis: Lumax vs Byler

I've also posted this on the Byler Subreddit so if you see it there, hi, that's me!

I’m sure you’re aware of song importance in Stranger Things with the Duffer Brothers saying sometimes it takes weeks to pick a song that conveys the exact message they’re trying to portray. I’ve seen quite a bit of theories around what songs mean what, but there’s one specific song that caught my attention.

There’s a scene in season two, episode six where Lucas and Max speak on top of a bus in the junkyard. It’s a lovely scene in which Max explains her behavior to Lucas, and apologizes for some stuff she wasn’t proud of. She says she’s sorry for acting like a jerk, and doesn’t ever want to be like that, but she feels overwhelmed with her home life and takes it out on people she doesn’t mean to. She then expresses that she likes California, and sometimes wants to go home, but having Lucas there with her for comfort makes her feel better. Max makes a call back to their “Stalker” joke, with a shared laugh. This emotional scene is then cut off by the sighting of a demodog, and a tense scene plays.

Now you know the base of the conversation, let me tell you about a similar scene I see as a parallel. Season four, episode four bedroom talk. This scene is between Mike and Will, where Mike apologizes to Will. In his apology he says he’s sorry for acting like a jerk, but everything with El was just really overwhelming and he doesn’t want Will to feel like their argument was personal. Mike explains to Will that he really appreciates Hawkins, but, since Will moved to California, it feels different. He misses Will. They share a “Cool” with each other and sit in silence while smiling, but are cut off by the doorbell as Jack’s men come searching for El.

These scenes may not feel as similar as I'm insisting with just this information, but there’s a very key portion to this parallel: Music.

I’m going to go through these scenes at the same time to help you understand where I’m coming from. At the current moments in time for these scenes, Lucas/Will have a like Max/Mike, but don’t know how to confront them about it. Max/Mike both apologize to Lucas/Will for hurting them when they didn’t mean to. Max/Mike say the reason they acted like this was because they felt overwhelmed with their lives at the moment. Max/Mike say that they like California/Hawkins but without Lucas/Will, it wouldn’t be/isn't the same. Max/Mike make a callback to “Stalker/Cool”. Almost directly after these heartfelt talks, they’re interrupted with the intense Demodog/Goverment scenes. The same song plays in these scenes to further imply that we’re supposed to view them the same way. The camera slowly zooms closer on their reactions to help the audience grasp these scenes better, and help it feel more intimate.

These are things you basically can’t deny, as I’m just stating the facts of these scenes. From all of these similarities and comparisons, we can also further suspect other aspects of these scenes. Something we’re allowed to assume is that, like Max, Mike also has feelings for Will. If the original scene including this song is meant to be interpreted as romantic, then why would the second be any different? If the original scene is meant to be read as a “romantic” and “intimate�� apology, then why would the second scene suddenly be a purely platonic interaction? If they’d wanted us as an audience to think otherwise, then they would have chosen a different way to portray this scene.

I thank you greatly for listening to me rant about why this scene drove me crazy. I’ve been looking forward to posting this for a while, but with my very on fire Spongebob looking brain, I never remembered. I’d love love looooove to hear your thoughts and add ons to this, ESPECIALLY corrections if i’ve somehow misinterpreted something. I wouldn't want to spread misinformation. Have a good morning, afternoon, or night, folks.

[thesherrinfordfacility]

LWA: This is just a mini-ask, but I've seen people comment before on Crowley's waiter jacket, and while the lapels are genuinely different from the others, the rest of the look, as far as I can tell, is because Crowley /does not understand how to wear it/. From the way it is draping at the front, he has the hanging loop attached--which you should not do while actually wearing the jacket!--and the sides aren't shorter, but tucked into the cummerbund. Which also, no. I'm pretty sure this is supposed to be a deliberate costuming parallel to Gabriel's own misadventure in suit jackets, where he has neglected to cut open the back vent. Aziraphale and Crowley are more humanized than their employers, but they are still "off."

to be honest with you, LWA, mini/silly asks are very welcome at the moment!!! the details on crowley are really cool, and to my shame i'd never really paid much attention to it!!! it's not so obvious in this post (in fact i don't think the jacket is closed here, there's too big a gap?) but by 'hanging loop', im guessing that you mean this little clasp thing going on here?

(also love the detail of what i think is a FiH knot, as opposed to the other servers, who im guessing are sporting half, maybe full, windsors. iconic)

as for the cummerbund disaster... from the back it definitely looks bunched and bulky, or at least the shirt definitely is (which in itself... yeah, negates the whole point of it - is it even sat in the right place?? looks like it should sit a smidge higher??) but from the bottom right, the cut of the jacket would suggest it's not long enough to be standard length, and the front finishes, and angles up, in a cropped shape at the waist (more like the front of a very high tailcoat cut?)... odd:

edit because ive just looked at this again - it does quite literally seem like it's a tailcoat cut, and he's tucked the tails into the cummerbund? crowley wtf are you doin my love you're an enigma

regardless of the specifics though, crowley in particular dressing just slightly out-of-place is a really cool detail, especially in his historical dress; people always remark on aziraphale's clothing being slightly - or completely- out-of-touch, but crowley in his own manner dresses slightly off as well, absolutely.

slightly unrelated, and took me a hot minute to find it, but this overview of his rome attire is an example of awesome details demonstrating that crowley might not blending in as much as he intended. and bernadette banner's (1:26:45) review of their 1827 dress was really interesting too, indicating that crowley oftentimes dresses 'ahead of the time'. its plausible that crowley would just dress in a way that he thinks is accurate, but from a human's perspective is just completely foreign, and whether his attire just happens to be noticed by the right people, or its another subconscious (demonic?) power-of-influence thing, what seems to be slightly incorrect dress for the exact, specific period suddenly becomes trend-setting fashion.

but then again, we get his nanny costume, which the book chalks that up to him having watched mary poppins; goes to show that sometimes crowley doesn't quite recognise the shift in time period where dress is concerned, and instead takes the pop culture idea of what a nanny would dress like, and runs with it.

i like the thought that gabriel (and maybe all the angels, when they visit earth, to varying degrees) might dress a little strangely/have some faux pas going on, but got to confess - can't spot where gabriel's vent stitches might still be tacked? from what i can see, in s1 he has a double-vented jacket that appears to be open, and then in s2 has a ventless/ double-pleated vent jacket? possibly? (@everyone timestamps most welcome; i was scouring both seasons half asleep at 2am)

seems like he still has them tacked in his coat though which, yeah, is a really amusing detail:

[unholyplumpprincess]

Kidnap Me Next Time

For my beloved friend @kiwi--bot ! I hope the time you waited for this was worth it :D

If you hit like/heart, don’t forget to reblog to keep writers like me posting fics you love :D

Summary: You and (Pre-entity) Danny have been in a relationship for awhile and you let slip that maybe you're interested in Ghostface and maybe would like for him to catch you and hold you at knife point. Danny, ever devoted spouse that he is, is gonna make sure you get just what you desire.Or! In which Ghostface pays you a visit and chases you through the woods to fuck you and make you cum again and again and again.

Ao3 link: Here

Fandom: Scream / Dead by Daylight - DBD

Relationship: Ghostface/Reader - Danny ‘Jed’ Olsen/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader is gn and has a vulva, knifeplay, overstimulation, full list of warnings on AO3!

Words: 7.4k

____________

You knew what he did. 

It should have scared you. It SHOULD have sent you running for the hills. 

It should have. 

You'd known Danny since you were teens. He'd been apart of the journalism class; He'd always been really into photography. And you? 

Well, you were his favorite subject to take pictures of. 

At first it had been a joke from you when you were kids. Offering to be his model. It varied from funny pictures of you both in ghost sheets with the headline being 'Real Ghosts Caught On Camera!!!!'. To simpler things like you holding up school lunches with a disgusted or excited face to highlight it for the school news. 

Then it turned to private sessions as you got older where Danny practiced putting you in pretty positions, dressing you up or doing fun photo-shoots in a pumpkin patch. It made you feel pretty- and, of course, you got to hang out with your best friend. 

It didn't even faze you to find out he had Polaroids of you in his room. It just made sense, really. Danny was your best friend and that was his hobby and work! So to display both just made sense, right? Besides, plenty of people had pictures of their friends in their room! 

You didn't see any red flags. Nothing alerted you; Nothing warned you. 

And...even if something did warn you, would you have ever run?

~Rest under the cut here~

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. Ever since you'd become friends, Danny had been a bit...eccentric, so to speak. Anytime anyone said anything even remotely poorly about you or toward you, you'd find the person spooked out of their wits the next day. 

Danny always said, ‘maybe the boogeyman paid them a visit’, or maybe karma just struck them hard in the head. Of course, you'd always had a nagging feeling he did something about it- but you always thought it was kind of sweet. 

It all came to a head one night when in college there had been warnings. Don't pick up the phone from unknown numbers, don't stay out past curfew, don't do this, don't do that. There was a killer on the loose, one that didn't seem to have a pattern or motif even. 

There had only ever been empty film rolls sometimes found. Or with a picture left behind of a ghost masked fiend taking a picture with the prey left mangled on the ground. 

Nothing identified the person. No one knew the exact height or shape behind them, just that they were cloaked in all black with a ghoulish common Halloween mask. It even got to the point where no Halloween store sold the masks anymore. 

You'd had a sinking feeling. 

Danny had only ever been secretive with his photo room. He asked for privacy whenever he was working in there, and at first you didn't think anything of it. Not opening the door so no light would go in just made sense. 

Then your ex went missing. People pointed at you for it, but no evidence linked back. All you had was evidence of their stalking and harassment. You couldn’t say you were too shaken up to hear they were missing, in fact, you kind of relished in the freedom that you could walk around without concern. Still, it left you feeling guilty. After all, how could you be happy that another person was gone by the hands of the Ghostface? 

Danny comforts you during that time, though his words are laced with some form of acid. Even as he brushes your hair to the side and tells you that maybe it's for the best they went and vanished. 

"Maybe the boogeyman scared them away." His voice had murmured to you, low and with an amused angle to it. You couldn't help but huff a small chuckle in turn, remembering his words when you were kids. 

It takes you just a few hours after with the words turning in your mind before you had frozen in bed. 

But...your best friend- your sweet best friend- he...he couldn't possibly do something like that. 

Could...he? 

Your thoughts turned for the rest of the night without any sleep from you. Your best friend, tall and lanky as he was, he was certainly smart enough to get the job done if he wanted. He wasn't horribly strong, but that was one thing he had always joked to you. 

That he didn't need strength, he just needed smarts. 

Normally it would have been said after having pinning you for a tickle war or during a fun game of tag or something or the other. Just a tease, nothing more. 

Then you'd thought about it more. The secrecy of the photos- and the killer's tendencies to take pictures of their prey. His fascination with the macabre and dark- but even then, he was the more gothic type, so that could be explained away. 

And then, at 3 in the morning with your mind racing, you got a phone call. 

An unknown number. 

You had swallowed thickly, remembering the warnings from security. A mix of dread and terror swarms you, but even as you had stared at the phone, something happened. 

If...this Ghostface character was Danny. He wouldn't hurt you. 

This is something you were sure of. 

You had exhaled, grabbing the phone and answering it with a soft, tired, "Hello?" 

The voice on the other end sounded modified somehow, a lower tone like a growl. "In the mood for a game, sweetheart?" 

You should have felt ice in your veins, but you were so certain of your answer. Feeling a bit more confident, and awake, you sat up in bed, carefully cradling your phone as your eyes slowly scanned your bedroom. "A game? At this hour? Don't you ever sleep, Mr. Ghostface?"  

No way a normal guy would just call you up with cryptic words, let alone pull a prank with the current scare going around. Especially from an encrypted number. Your thoughts twist and turn as you had slowly reached under your bed for a gun. Not a real gun, it was a foam dart gun that Danny had got you. Something you whipped out when you knew he was in the house so you could thwap him with a harmless little flat 'bullet'. 

That night you had found yourself in a game of hide and seek. Find the killer inside the house. 

He tried threatening you, but each one sounded more like he was flirting or dirty talking you. Then, when you had finally found him- in the basement of course- you had hit him with the foam dart from across the room and heard familiar laughter. 

It was then you knew for certain, but not before you had found yourself chased and soon pinned to the ground. Danny had asked you if you were scared, the flat of his knife caressing the side of your face as his mask stared you down. 

You had told him no. You knew he would never hurt you. 

He had asked if you were disgusted by him, if what he did to people- to your ex made you scared of him. All while the ghoulish white mask looked down at you. 

You had told him no, once more. 

You knew he would never hurt you. 

-- 

That's when your relationship had developed further. Things just seemed to naturally fall into place. No more secrets in the way, Danny had said to you one night with his head on your lap and nuzzling into your abdomen fondly. 

It felt...right. Like this was always supposed to happen. It's a loving relationship, everything you could have dreamed of. You give and take equally, he's a gentleman to you, and your communication is perfect. Not to mention the sex is good. Really good. 

There's just a small little hitch. Just a tiny thing, really. 

You have to ignore the news. 

Anytime you hear about a murder or things about the Ghostface, you turn the channel or radio station. You turn an ignorant eye to it and play like some people who simply just didn't want to hear about it. 

Danny, however, likes to have you involved in his work sometimes. Nothing hands on, thank God. He just likes to talk about ideas in an encrypted way. Like asking for your opinion about colors or settings for his...art. 

Always using that word. Art. A secret shared between you two, even when he catches your gaze and his grin turns wolfish. Predatory. 

You hate when he does that. It sends your heart racing, quickly averting your gaze and turning your head to hide your flush. But you know he always catches it. 

Yes, it's fucked up. You know it is. But it was a fantasy you had. Of the big bad Ghostface chasing you down somewhere and taking you to have his way with you. Not even taking off his mask for it, a mystery man for all eternity despite you knowing who it was. 

It was a dark fantasy. A fantasy you know Danny shared on some nights where his dirty talk got filthy and hot in your ear. Where he'd have his fingers sunk into you, murmuring in your ear what a pretty picture you'd make. How he bets you'd like it if he was wearing his gloves, using you to get off after a new 'art project'. 

You liked it, truthfully. You liked the ideas he put into your head. That sort of control he had on you. 

Then Danny comes home one night dressed in all black and a leather jacket. He's wet from the rain, his hair sticking to him and the lightning behind him lighting up the room in an intimidating way.  

He looks like he's prowling right towards you where you sit on the countertop of your kitchen. You look as coy as ever, despite having sent him some...pictures while he was out. Knowing damn well you're gonna get what you deserve. 

His calloused hands slide up your thighs and you hum in delight, winding your arms around his neck just as he forces your thighs apart to make room for himself. His breath is warm against your lips as you tilt your head up to him, feeling just how his hand slides up your waist. Up your chest. 

Then it fists into your hair, yanking your head back and making you gasp with an arch of your back. 

"You were bein' a tease, baby." His voice is low, his nose tracing up your neck as he comes up until his lips can brush against your jawline, then the shell of your ear. You shudder. "And while I was working no less." 

"Thought you could use some encouragement for your art," You huff out, your voice strained and your lashes fluttering when his teeth brush across your neck in a quiet threat. "You didn't like them?" 

"Oh, I loved them. Don't get me wrong, sweetheart." His voice is soothing, a mock coo as he leans back to get a good look at you. He eases the hold on your hair, allowing you to peer up at him just in time to catch his hungry gaze. "Just got a bit...messier than I wanted to. Had to get back home to you." 

"You gotta be careful," He continues, his voice all mock croons and faux worry. His hand leaves your hair to slide down your neck, a loose grip wound around your throat. "What if that Ghostface guy had caught you, huh?" 

It shouldn't make you whine, but it does. The idea of being caught when you were on the balcony taking pretty pictures of yourself in the glow of the moon. Where you'd even sent a teasing video to him with your legs pulled up, sat on your balcony and showing your pussy off to the camera. 

"Maybe I'm into it," You tease back, leaning into the hand around your throat to tempt him. You glance beneath your lashes up at him, practically batting your lashes at him. "That such a bad thing, Danny?" 

The groan he releases and the way he shoves his hips against yours makes you grin in victory. Even more when he huffs out, "You're a menace." 

"That's why you like me. Cause I give you a hard time." You poke back, winding your legs around him to hold him in place. 

Then, like a light goes off, Danny's eyes brighten. At first, his hands slide down your body until they reach your hips. Holding you still as he seems to consider something, looking over your face with a small furrow to his brows. 

Before you can even think too much about it, Danny cuts off your thoughts. 

"What if...that Ghostface fella did catch you." He starts slow, rubbing circles into your hips and watching your reaction carefully.  

You allow him to see your eyebrows raise curiously, quietly prompting him to go further.  

"What if," Danny continues carefully, his eyes flickering over your face slowly. "What if Ghostface found you. Wanted to watch you. Take a few of your pictures for his secret collection." 

Another pause, this time followed by your lips parting and your breathing getting a tiny bit heavier. Seeing a positive reaction in you, Danny feels braver and continues. This time with a tug of your hips to his and his fingers sliding slowly up under your sweater to touch your bare flesh. 

"What if he wanted to take you right where he caught you. You're so pretty, baby, it'd be hard for anyone to keep their hands off you." His hands now reach your chest, squeezing and swiping his thumbs over your nipples to make you bite your lip. "No one would hear you scream, not when he's got you in his grasp." 

"Danny-" You whine out, rolling your hips into his desperately. Danny leans into you then, his lips brushing across your parted ones. 

"Yeah?" He murmurs hopefully, breathless as you are. 

"Yeah," You agree in a matching tone, tilting your head to catch his lips in a proper kiss for just a moment before breaking it. "Talk more about it after you fuck me?" 

"Thought you'd never ask." 

-- 

That night, after he had thoroughly ruined you, you did talk about it more. 

Rules, a scene in mind. All with explicit consent. You just had one thing to add to it. You didn't...want to know when. You wanted it to be a surprise, but to have clues through the day so you knew it was coming. 

Like you were one of his victims. 

At first, nothing really obvious happened. It almost disappointed you, but in the end made the talk of it all die down in your mind. Made you unaware, less on edge. 

Then Danny had to go on a trip. Some sort of job that required his photographer skills, something out in the wilderness you remember. Maybe some sort of cosplay shoot? You didn’t really get all the details when he was rushing out the door after planting a kiss on you with vague details mentioned to you. 

You missed him when he was gone, but it let you catch up on some reading at least. 

Well. It would have, at least. But you couldn’t find your book anywhere in your apartment. Finally, you checked your nightstand drawer with the hopes maybe you stashed it. But nope, nowhere. 

You wrote it off as nothing, maybe you left it in class. 

Then you’d gotten a shower the next day, laying out your clothes on the bed. And when you came out, they were gone. Causing you to wonder if you’d even set them out to begin with, writing it off once again as just your mind leading you astray is all. 

Maybe you should get your memory checked? 

All leading to today. You had late night studying to do, staying late in the school library and taking comfort in the silence around you. You’d been so caught up in your work that you didn’t realize the time. 

Until your phone suddenly begins to vibrate on the table you’re sitting at, nearly vibrating off the table as you hold a hand to your chest with a startled expression. 

Your brows furrow, flipping your phone in your grasp to see the ‘unknown caller’ flashing across the screen. Strange. Did people even call this late anymore? It was about 10pm. Unless...maybe it was an emergency? Maybe Danny got into trouble? 

With that in mind, you look around the empty library. And though you may feel like a dick answering a call in the library, you have good faith nobody is around anyway. It was a free-service library for students anyway, no need for a late-night librarian. 

You answer the call, keeping your voice low just in case. “Hello?” 

“Hello, who is this?” The voice answers on the other line, sounding like a low masculine voice with a hint of a growl to it. It almost strikes as familiar, almost. 

“Oh, I’m sorry you must have the wrong number.” You try to keep it polite, still keeping your voice low just in case of other patrons around. 

“Ah, I must have. Sorry ‘bout that.” Comes the voice from the other end, perfectly polite. 

“Not a problem, goodbye now.” You easily end, hanging up the phone on what you believe is good terms without a single red flag wandering into your mind. 

Noting the time now, you start to pack up for the night, sliding your books into your bookbag with a new checked out version of the book you’d lost the other day. Still, you hadn’t found it. You wonder if Danny took it before he left, or maybe you’d accidentally put it into his photographer bag by accident. 

The second you finish putting your bags away, your phone vibrates again. Furrowing your brows once more, you pop it out of your pocket to check who it is. 

‘Unknown caller’ flashes across the screen again. 

And once more, you answer it with another. “Hello?” 

“Oh, sorry, must have dialed the wrong number again.” Comes the now cheeky tone of the voice on the other end of the call. And once again, no red flags pop up into your mind as you toss your bag over your shoulder. 

“Hey, I understand, accidents happen.” You soothe, tucking the phone against your ear so you can adjust your bag comfortably. 

“If I may ask, you’re talking awfully quiet; Do I keep waking you?” 

You smile to yourself. Well, at least whoever it was seemed polite. “No, no, not at all. I’m just at the library.” 

“Oh, the library? This late? Sounds like somebody’s a teacher’s pet.” It’s playful, friendly even. If a bit pointed at the word ‘library’. 

You laugh quietly, “Yeah, a little bit. Just keeping up with my studies is all.” You begin taking steps, adjusting the phone into your other hand. “Hey, who is it that you were trying to reach? I know me and a Hannah Crews share a number save for the last digit, you hunting for her?” 

“Ya know, I think I’ve actually reached the right person I was looking at.” Comes the voice once again, this time more hushed and almost drawing it out. 

You pause your step, feeling your blood run cold. “Looking at?” 

“Hm? Oh, no, I said the person I was looking for.” 

“No. No you definitely didn’t.” You murmur, your fingers hesitating at the library door with your card in hand, not quite scanning it yet to get out. 

“And now why would I say that, huh?” The voice practically croons to you, as if you were some little puppy just to play with. You swallow thickly as the voice continues. “Looks like you got some running shoes on, little rabbit. In for a chase?” 

The sound of books falling somewhere near behind you makes you yelp. You hang up the phone, quickly scanning your security card and darting as quickly as you can outside. You whip your head behind you, your heart pounding and just in time to see a shadowy black figure catch the door with their boot before it can shut. 

A flash of a white mask as your eyes trail up for the briefest moment shouldn’t be a quiet comfort, but it is. Even then, there were people out there that could replicate. For fun. 

You don’t think about it anymore, quickly taking to the sidewalk in a run under the streetlights. You don’t dare look behind you, running as fast as you can across the pavement before the shadowy figure seems to loop onto your right side. 

Squeaking as you avoid the figure, it forces you to run into the woods instead. As if the person was trying to herd you like a sheepdog. 

Guess that made you the helpless lamb. 

The branches whip past you, some creating nicks in your arms and clothing as you run. You’re already out of breath, your heart pounding and your body aching. You try to steal glances behind you for your pursuer, but in the end that’s your downfall. 

You trip over a rock, cliché, sure.  

You go tumbling in the dirt, straight into a more open area full of lush grass and tall trees. Your pursuer is quick to follow, quickly snagging you around the waist to help you further down into the dirt beneath you. He slams you down there, knocking your legs apart with his own and forcing himself between them as you pant beneath him, staring up into the white mask above you. 

A knife is brandished, the shiny metal caressing the side of your face slowly as the voice from the phone now growls above you, “Such a pretty little thing. Maybe I won’t have to gut you tonight, if you can play nice.” 

And then in his other hand, a camera. A camera you were familiar with as it clicks and flashes at the same time his knife slides down under your shirt, yanking from the bottom and slicing it clean in half. 

“Yeah, I’m gonna enjoy every second of you.” He croons, setting his knife to the side to start openly grabbing your chest and making you gasp through your harsh breaths. God you can’t catch your breath- 

"S-Stab 5- ” You gasp out your safeword, and the second it comes out of your mouth is the second Ghostface turns into Danny. 

Hands leave you the second you choke it out, only to come back empty and cupping your face adoringly. The voice modulator he had on is turned off, replaced by only his muffled voice in his mask. “Hey, hey, you okay? You alright? Wanna stop? Baby, did I hurt y-” 

“N-no, no, I’m okay. Just-” You wheeze out a laugh, reaching up to grab the backs of his gloved hands to squeeze them in your own where they rest on your face. “Haven’t run track since highschool. Can’t- ah -catch my breath.” You speak through your breaths, your chest heaving with each breath and your ribs aching. “Oh, God, I hate running, Danny.” 

Your honest answer relaxes his whole body, a quiet laugh leaving him too as he seems to let go of a breath he’d been holding. Though, it does seem to shatter the very intense scene, something you do take note of once you finally can catch your breath and Danny offers you water from your bag. Something you take graciously as you sit up, drinking from your bottle like your life depended on it. 

You wipe your mouth off with the back of your sleeve, peeking up at him where he’s perched in front of you on his knees in the grass. Just seeming to watch you carefully before you flash him a smile. “Sorry about needing the pause. I’d still like to continue, if I didn’t ruin it...?” 

“Nah, doll, you’re okay. Maybe a kidnap scene would do you better next time?” Danny teases gently, reaching to brush his gloved knuckles across your cheek adoringly. “Won’t have to run. Just be at the time and place I tell ya to.” 

“Charmer,” You playfully poke back as soft laughter erupts from you, only to dissolve into higher pitched giggles as Danny pounces on you once more. You watch as his hand comes up, pressing something on his throat that makes a small static click. His voice modulator. 

“So, where were we, sweetheart?” His now gravely, modified voice croons at you. You bite your lip excitedly, getting comfortable back in the grass. You only pretend to squirm just so he’ll grab your wrists in one hand, thrusting them above your head and holding them still in the blink of an eye. His knife once more brandished in his other hand to wag in front of you. 

“Nooo, Mr. Ghostface, please-” You don’t even sound convincing, a smile on your lips and squirming as you hold each syllable in a sing song tone. You can feel his grin behind his mask, practically feeling the way his eyes roll behind the eye holes. 

“Don’t move.” He demands, letting your wrists go that you keep right there. From his robes, he produces rope that quickly binds your wrists together to the tree you’re nearest to. 

For show, you squirm and whine, pulling at your bound wrists only to have your jaw grasped quickly and fingers pressing into your cheeks. “Now, now, play nice, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to have to tape that pretty mouth shut now, would we?”  

“Nofir.” The ‘no, sir’ you had meant to say comes out squished and muffled from his hold on your cheeks. Regardless, it seems to satisfy him enough to let your face go. The knife once more introduced to your vision and tracing down your collarbones on its dull side, further down your bare torso and over your abdomen. 

It makes you jump, squirming from the ticklishness. Your eyes never leave the knife either. Even if you knew he would never gut you, you still had a knife held to you after all. 

His free hand runs down your torso, squeezing your chest as he goes before undoing your pants. He strips you until you are in nothing but your socks, squirming in the summer air as the breeze hits your bare flesh. 

“So pretty,” He murmurs seemingly to himself, not letting you get a word in before his hands are groping your chest again. His gloved thumbs swipe over your nipples, making your breath hitch and your back arch into his touch. “And so eager too. Like a dumb little puppy, hm?” 

You whine audibly, enhanced when he pinches your nipples and tugs them nearly to the point of pain before releasing. Your whine is met with his chuckle, laughing at you like you really are just a puppy doing tricks for him. “You like that? Aw, just look how wet you are already,” He pauses there to bring his hand down to your cunt, met with your hips lifting into his touch and your gasp. 

His hand is brought in front of you, slick clinging to the leather of his gloves and leaving strings as he rubs his fingers together and spreads them out in the moonlight. Just for you to see. 

It’s humiliating, but you can’t argue back. Not when his hand is coming right back down to curl two fingers into you just how you like with his thumb pressed to your clit. Each swift thrust of his fingers punctuated by the press and rub across your clit until your toes are curling and your hips are pressing up into each touch. 

You don’t even notice what his other hand is doing until you see the shift of him in the dark, shimmying his robes up above his hips and hearing a zipper being undone. You’re so focused on the way his fingers move inside you, quirking up and nailing the spot that makes your eyes roll back and moans spilling freely from your lips. 

“Just look atcha,” His voice croons oh so sweetly as he thrusts his fingers in deep, holding them there as his thumb rubs circles into your clit to feel your walls clenching and fluttering around him. “Barely even got started and you look like a mindless little whore.” 

“N-no-” You choke out, mostly to yourself as you feel the tension in your lower abdomen. You pull uselessly at your bound wrists, tucking your face into your bicep as you pant heavily. “Nononono- d-don't, I-I-” 

“No? You don’t want to cum on my fingers, little rabbit?” Ghostface’s voice is that of an owner down talking their dog, almost baby talk of faux sympathy. “Poor thing. You don’t think you really have a choice here, do you?” 

A third finger is introduced, curling up into you as his other hand presses on your lower abdomen to keep you down. It does the trick, breaking the tension like a band that you’d been desperately clinging to. And, oh, do you cum, violently. 

You cry out, pulling at the rope on your wrists as your back arches as best as it can in this position with your hips moving on their own. You try not to fuck yourself onto his fingers, but it’s useless as your hips move furiously into his palm. Playing right into his hand as he croons at you with each movement of his fingers. 

As you come down, Ghostface’s fingers have stilled inside you and you’re left panting with a sheen of sweat clinging to your bare skin. You whine pathetically, peeking up at his mask through your lashes as your breath shudders. You, once more, pull at your wrists, this time followed by a quiet whine of questioning. 

You didn’t really believe it’d be that easy, right? 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, sweetness. We’ve just got started with you.” His voice is threatening, disguised by the faux pitying pout he displays through it. His words are followed by the curl of his fingers once again, pressing into you as he shuffles his body closer.  

It gives him the perfect angle to grab your leg and thrust you up so your lower half was suspended in the air until he could slot himself there. Your legs press together, your knees bent by his hand and exposing your pussy to the air so he could plunge his fingers deep inside you again and again and again. 

You scream out and squirm, not sure if your hips are trying to yank away from his touch or press into it. Regardless, the squirming and your pressed together thighs give you just the friction you need on your clit with every twitch of your body. It isn’t long before another orgasm is ripped from you, punctuated by your head throwing back and your eyes clenching shut. 

Each twitch and shudder of your body is analyzed- you just knew it. You could feel his gaze on you, oh so intense with each slow roll of his thumb against your clit. You sob out by the fifth one, shaking your head and trying to roll your body away from him. 

It doesn’t work, of course. Not when you hear him practically snarl, muttering a swear under his breath as he yanks your hips to be still. There’s something rolled up underneath your hips, something squishy that you can only assume is a blanket. 

You hardly get time to realize what’s happening when Ghostface is shuffling onto his stomach, hooking his arms under your legs with his mask pushed up atop his head. It makes you feel like the mask is staring directly at you from its position, even as you feel his tongue needily slide across your slick. 

His moan is low, guttural, no longer muffled by a mask or modulator. He moans again into you when your hips twitch, his lips sliding across your heat as he takes open mouthed kisses across your cunt. Each open-mouthed kiss met with his tongue sliding through your slit up to your clit in slow, non-hurried ways. 

“So good...” Ghostface murmurs against you, his tone raspy as he buries himself into you. You feel him seal his lips around your clit, circling your engorged clit with the flat of his tongue until you’re sobbing out and arching your back. 

He knows just how to work you. Just how to make you scream. Knows every single sensitive point on you, even to the small things like how his fingers flex and press over your lower abdomen or over the mound of your sex.  

Or how you can hear him moaning to himself, able to make out the shape of him in the dark and how his hips roll into the very dirt underneath him in seek of friction. Getting off on just getting you off. 

The visual stimulus and the feeling of his tongue sliding through you is almost enough. You feel the knot tightening again, but unable to get over that edge with the slow, methodical slides of his tongue and kisses.  

You begin to get frustrated, tears building in your eyes as you furiously try to hump his face or grind across his tongue. You cry out, throwing your head back each time you start to get close but unable to finally cross it. 

Until two of his fingers curl inside you again, his lips suckling across your clit and moaning into you like the very same pleasure you’re receiving is his as well. 

You cum, once again, having lost count by now of how many. This one isn’t as intense, but comes in waves with each throb of your clit and your walls fluttering down on his curling fingers. Ghostface doesn’t even flinch, just murmuring filthy words against each pulse of your clit and rubbing his lips across the engorged flesh. As if sinking your scent into him. 

“There you go, look at you,” His voice is absolutely ragged, his breaths heavy and full of arousal. His tongue flicks out across your clit, a quick swipe just to watch you cry out and how your hips jump. It makes him chuckle lowly as he sits up, pulling his mask back down into place. “So pliant for me now. Wasn’t so hard, was it, puppy?” 

He’s right. You’re a mess. 

Your mind is absolutely blank, only left with conflicting feelings on whether you want to cum again just to appease him or if you want him to just use you to get himself on and be done with it.  

The idea of being used as a toy makes your hips twitch, a humiliating thought as you watch the way Ghostface gropes the front of his own crotch. Able to see the shape of him vaguely in the dark through his robes. 

“Please,” You choke out, keeping your eyes on where he’s grabbing himself. Your gaze follows when he lifts up his robe, tucking his boxers down from where he’d undone his pants earlier. “Please, just fuck me already.”  

His cock is thick even in his gloved palm. It’s longer, but not horrendously so, but the thickness alone makes you swallow helplessly. Pretty piercings decorate underneath the shaft of maybe four or so barbells in a Jacob’s ladder with a pretty prince albert at the tip. All in silver, glinting in the moonlight. 

Each stroke of his cock pulls back the foreskin to reveal the shiny head, drooling with pre-cum and making your mouth water. Your lips part to take in a shuddering, shaky breath, lifting your hips up helplessly to try and indicate how badly you wanted it. 

“Poor thing, just look at you,” Ghostface starts in a drawl, looking over your flushed body. How you’d gone from pulling at your bonds to now just wanting him to fuck you. You must admit, you must have looked pretty pathetic looking at him with not a single thought in your eyes. “Nothing going on in that pretty head right now, hm?” 

You don’t even reply properly, only managing a whine and mouthing the word ‘please’ over and over again. You thought for sure if he didn’t get inside of you that you would keel over and pass away. 

Luckily, Ghostface doesn’t leave you wanting for long. 

Your legs frame around his hips in no time when he shuffles closer. You’re unable to see what’s happening, only feeling the way he slides his cock through your folds. Each slide kisses and rubs against your clit, sending mixed feelings through you on ‘too sensitive’ and ‘just right’. 

Then he slaps his cock against you, tapping it against your clit and sending jolts through you that make you sob out audibly. So sensitive- you wanted to cry from the stimulus, tears welling up in your eyes as you begin to mindlessly babble pleads again. 

Then finally, finally, Ghostface slides home into you with a loud, low groan from him as if he’d reached heaven. 

His moan is desperate with the way he slides into you. Savoring each of your twitches and how your own whines come from you in short, whimpering bursts with each slow stretch inside of you. You can’t take it, you can’t do it, it’s too much, too much- 

“You can take it,” He says to you, his voice a gruff whisper. You hadn’t even realized you’d been babbling the same words aloud, framed by hiccups and the jerks of your hips as if trying to escape the very thing you asked for. “You will take it. Be good for me, baby, come on. You feel so good, it won’t take long, sweetheart. So good for me, shhh.” 

As he finishes his words, one of his hands reaches up to cup your cheek. His thumb swipes away a tear that had rolled down your cheek, just as he bottoms out inside of you with a grunt. 

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” Ghostface encourages you, his hand never leaving your face. His other hand rests on your waist, gently arching you upwards so he can shift his hips and hump into you ever so gently with harsh pants of his own. “There you go, shh, let it happen. Good puppy.” 

His encouragement makes you dizzy with desire. Conflicted by how over stimulated your body is and just how good it all felt. You're left with nothing in your mind except pleasure and the pinching, slight pain from too much pleasure following it. Each rock of his hips, each grumble of his words sending you further and further into a headspace that left you feeling like you were on cloud 9. 

“Thatta pup. Look at that face, hm?” He grunts out between his own harsh huffs of pleasure, fucking his hips into you slow and languidly. You knew why, of course, he always came too quickly once he was inside of you. He was savoring it. “Not a damned thought in there. That all for me, baby?” 

You can’t even tell him yes properly, because as soon as you say ‘yeah’ you start repeating it helplessly in time with his thrusts. It tapers off into a higher pitched sob, throwing your head to the side and against his palm to try and bury yourself there for support. 

You’re moved then, his hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck to grab you. He leans down to you, bent over you with the forehead of his mask pressed to yours and your moans mingling together. 

His thrusts go from slow and savoring to harsh and needy and primal. He fucks you like an animal, grunting and panting with each thrust of his hips. You plead him the entire time to cum, to please cum inside you, please, please, please, please- 

Ghostface’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, drawing you close up into him as he snarls. His last few thrusts get sloppy, out of time, left with him pumping into you with a loud, guttural moan ripping from his mask and growling words of calling you good. 

It’s then that he finally rips his mask off, openly panting into the air as he makes eye contact with you. 

You both briefly share a moment of panting between you two, you look over his face and how sweat clung to him. How the thick black eyeshadow around his eyes was starting to drip down his cheeks and making the color of his eyes that much brighter as he looked down on you. 

You don’t need to ask him, not when Danny gives you his signature halfcocked grin before descending upon you to devour your lips with his own. You moan into his mouth, feeling his hands cupping your cheeks and holding you close to him. Each slide of his tongue is savoring you, slow and needy as it licks into your mouth to swallow your quiet moans raw. 

When he parts, you’re left panting again. You whimper when Danny adjusts his hips now, watching as he tips his gaze down to look down at your conjoined bodies. 

You note his devious smile, how he bites his bottom lip and glances up at you briefly. You’d know that look anywhere. 

“Nononono, D-Danny, no, please, I can’t take it, please, please, please-” You start your begging, only half meaning it of course. You had a safeword, after all, if anything got too much. 

But then Danny reaches down, feigning a puppy dog pout as his fingers circle your clit just how you like. “Aw, but baby~,” His tone is sing-song, almost verging on a whine as his tone teases you. You immediately clench down around him, bucking your hips against him and watching how his smile falters into a pleasured expression. “Fuck, sweetheart, you just look too cute with that expression. How can I not make you cum again?” 

“You can do it, come on,” Danny continues, rolling your clit gently with each swipe of his fingers. You can feel the tension in your stomach, knitting your brows as he leans down to press his now bare forehead to yours. 

You squeeze down again on him, twitching and fluttering and don’t miss the way he moans out, “Fuuuuuck yes, baby, there it is. Go ahead, cum all over my cock, come on, missed you so much, come on baby, yes, yes, yes-” 

And you cum again. Weak, twitching, sobbing, and pulling at your restraints so you could twist your body as best as you could against him. But even then, Danny is quick to kiss you, swallowing down your pathetic sobs and moans as you plead against his lips silently. 

“Bastard-” You finally choke out against his mouth, earning you a hearty laugh as Danny breaks away. 

-- 

From there, Danny takes care of you. Well, once you can finally move at least and feel sensation in your clit again. 

When he takes off your bonds, he gingerly applies kisses to your wrists before following it with soothing lotion once he made sure you didn’t hurt yourself anywhere. Then followed by a wet rag, courtesy of your water bottle for the cold water, to wipe you down of sweat and mud.  

He takes special care with a new wet rag to take care of your poor cunt, sitting on his knees while you stand with your hands shakily on his shoulders as he tends to you. Met with oh so tender kisses to your lower lips and mound with comical ‘mwah’ sounds that make you laugh. 

A fresh pair of clothing is given to you, brandished from his bag with a smile on his face that he seems to remember right after you complained about your clothes being muddy. The clothes you’d left out on the bed and went missing days ago. 

Cheeky, probably had your book too. 

He ditches his cloak and mask in a bag to walk around in normal clothing. The walk home isn’t too far, and once inside you can both take a shower and get into your respective pajamas. 

You’re met in bed after with Danny’s arms winding around you and holding you tight, kissing all over your face with praises of how well you’d done and what a good victim you were. 

But, you both agree that next time, maybe a kidnap scene would do you two better. 

God, you hated running.

____________________________

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[seat-safety-switch]

When they started automating my job, and fired all my coworkers, and replaced those coworkers with robots, I didn’t complain. I said, “good idea, boss,” and bit my lip until it bled. That’s how I got promoted. Now I manage an entire division of robots, which is honestly a pretty sweet gig. Lately, though, my relationship with my android coworkers has deteriorated.

Normally, my job consists of showing up sometime around noon, marking all the emails in my inbox as “read,” and then leaving a half hour later. Sometimes, during the silly season, I’ll have to oil one of their joints, or open them up and re-seat a peripheral interface card that’s wobbled loose out of the socket. That doesn’t happen very often, even though these suckers work 24/7 without pay. Anything bigger, the repair robots come and cart away my stressed-out subordinate, never to be seen again, immediately replaced by a new one with a fresh coat of paint and a younger serial number.

Unfortunately, it turns out that those bigwigs at the United Nations figured out that this level of dehumanization and separation from the consequences of my work does something bad to my brain. In fact, it does the exact same thing that it did to my boss when he had a bunch of human subordinates: it turned me into a sociopath. I began running red lights, throwing lit cigarettes at orphanages, and making fun of the elderly for not being smart enough to get a gang of robots to do their work for them. Don’t worry, though, the super-geniuses figured out a way to bring me back to Earth: they decided that it would now be law for the robots I manage to have individual little personalities. Now, I’d feel bad when one of them broke, and the experience of caring for another sentient thing would, in theory, make me less of an asshole.

It only half-worked. See, the thing I liked most about this brave new world of post-human work is that the robots never dropped by my cube to shit-talk about a reality TV show I hadn’t seen. Or make me sign a birthday card for another robot. Or ask me what I thought the weather would be like later today. Sure, they also didn’t engage in ribald office drama culminating in emotional breakdowns around Valentines’ Day, or get mad enough about parking restrictions to storm into the office and kick a four-colour plotter. All of this messy human bullshit was kept to where I preferred it: in my personal life. Now, all that was going to change.

“So, what do you think about the Yankees this year?” asked a robot. A blinking OLED screen on his(?) chest indicated that he was now in “COMFORT MODE” and would not leave until I answered the inquiry and filled up the little socialization meter. I’d have to put up with this bullshit for the rest of my working career, or at least until I figured out how to make a more lifelike, human-like android to replace myself. All I’d have to do is stop by that orphanage on my way home, and see if they had any leftover human skin they weren’t needing.

[kintatsujo]

I got some random thoughts jumbling around right now that I'm not sure how much of a point I have

I'm the first person to tell you that a fandom lens is a fully legitimate way to engage with a text but if you're talking about watching a non-romance "looking for something to ship" as if that's all you're watching it for I'm still gonna side eye you juuuust a bit

there's a difference between a headcanon and an interpretation of the text. You can have headcanons that COME from your interpretation of the text though. If I say I interpret a character as some form of queer or neurodivergent that's a little different from saying I headcanon them that way. I don't have a specific point about it just that sometimes I've noticed people don't seem to know the difference.

(You can also interpret a pair of characters as being in a particular relationship without shipping it. I do this all the time. There are series I engage in where I'll literally tell you "well it's pretty clear to me that these two characters are meant to be in X relationship but I ship this other thing." This is fine and normal.)

I think when it comes to visual mediums some people assume something isn't textual unless it's in dialogue. This is a mistake; if, for example, the artist depicts a character clearly thinking about a traumatic event when presented with something only tangentially related, that character textually is having a post traumatic flashback. It's not subtext at that point, the medium is just using its own language to tell you this, directly.

(Yes, I see people call this exact device "subtext." A lot.)

That said sometimes you are in fact meant to read between the lines. I've been avoiding bringing up specific examples but I'm kind of stunned that on the TV tropes pages for Octopath 2 someone even brought up the not-quite-joke in which someone tries to seduce the cleric by suggesting he "sheathe his staff" and yet somehow nobody took his reaction ("staves don't need sheathes") as the extremely clear queer subtext that it was?

Like that's fucking amazing to me, back in the 90s that would have just been seen as an explicit confirmation the character was gay.

(Yes I know that game is full of lesbians. The cleric is also shown flirting relentlessly with another male character. This is ALSO nearly text at that point as opposed to subtext.)

Anyway idk something something visual media having something be "textual" isn't about it being stated in dialogue and also if you're looking for things to ship you maybe should try actually reading romance genre stories a little more often like I didn't used to think I liked romance either but you'd be surprised what you find when you actually dig through a genre past the grocery store bookshelves

[deamazed]

GONE GIRL RP PROMPT. from the film.

when i think of my wife, i always think of her head.

the primal questions of a marriage: what are you thinking? how are you feeling?

what have we done to each other?

pour me a bourbon, would you?

what's up, jitters?

it's a bad day.

i'm so crazy, stupid happy!

whose beer am i drinking?

what's your type?

i prefer men who are funny, not 'funny'.

that's code for 'i hate strong women'.

what type are you?

so tell me. who are you?

you know i have to kiss you now.

i would be a fool to let you walk through a sugar storm unkissed.

go home, fuck her brains out, then smack her with your penis: some wood for you, bitch!

you are way too into that cat.

we understand there are concerns about your wife/husband/partner?

i'm not someone who hits the panic button but — it's weird, right?

you mind if we look around?

it's our anniversary.

i remember these books.

now you can say you came. and in 10 minutes, we'll leave.

perfect. time for a quick tour of all my failings.

i love your parents, but they can be assholes.

people want to hear from you.

i thought that'd be embarrassing.

i love having strangers pick at my scabs.

i am here in a strictly journalistic capacity.

you challenge me.

and — fun fact for our readers — you have a world class vagina.

my colleagues inform me that as yet, you are not married. isn't it time we fixed that?

he's just playing with his phone. playing, like... tetris.

if this girl doesn't show up... this could get out of hand.

let's stay on our toes.

given the scene in the house and given our spike in violent crime of late, we're going to take this very, very seriously.

sorry. i felt like i was in a law and order episode for a second. bum-BUM.

is she kinda... standoffish?... ivy league?

i have zero reception.

sir, don't take that tone with me.

stupid, dumb bitch.

he's always been a misogynist asshole.

everyone told us — and told us, and told us — marriage is hard work.

abandon all hope, ye who enter.

technically, we're supposed to fuck at the next stop.

we've never fucked in a bookstore.

i dragged you into the ladies' room on our second date.

books, sex, bourbon. life is good.

sometimes i want to punch us in the face, we're so cute.

i don't need a lawyer.

everyone knows "complicated" is code for bitch.

just because i don't love her, doesn't mean i don't care about her. i'm really scared.

you want to look like you've been up all night.

that's a weird thing to say.

when you're upset, you bottle it up. you can seem... angry... like —

great. i'll try to balance on the exact edge of your emotional razor.

i knew you shouldn't have moved back here.

we care about her. we love her, and we want her back.

we filed a restraining order.

it'll help us track her movements before she disappeared - where she went, who she might've seen...

maybe i'll teach you a thing or two.

i think i've done a pretty good job.

let's swear we will never be like them.

we have each other — everything else is background noise.

this is where you say 'everything else is background noise'.

i come by once a week, make sure the place hasn't burnt down.

picture me: i'm a girl who is very bad. i need to be punished, and by punished, i mean had.

open the door, and look alive.

want to test your marriage for weak spots? add one recession. subtract two jobs.

i felt like i needed to shoot something.

right, i forgot. you can give your parents $879,000 without asking me, but god forbid i buy legend of zelda without your permission.

that's the basic tenet of a prenup, right?

why are you throwing that in my face again?

i don't know how to not have a job.

now, i'm beholden to you.

suddenly, i knew everything was about to get worse.

oh look, he's being a good guy so we can all see him be a good guy.

you really don't like him.

you have to keep up your strength.

i'm asking you nicely - please delete that photo.

you can't share that with anyone.

it looked like you were having fun.

this place literally smells like faeces.

i'm going to go benadryl myself to sleep.

i feel like i could disappear.

i've been so worried about you.

you gotta pick up when i call you — where the hell have you been?!

can you at least say you love me?

i love you. but, sweetheart, we have to be real careful right now.

you told me i needed to have my own life.

i need you. now. touch me.

did you leave a pair of red panties in my office? lacy?

i'll have to check my red-panty inventory.

you told me you were going to get a divorce.

never say that out loud again.

i don't want to fight. i just want to be with you.

he uses me for sex when he wants. otherwise, i don't exist.

last night, i went from desperate to pathetic.

do our code: no bullshit.

a child is not a hobby.

we could have had this fight four hours ago.

you're really going to walk out now?! you're such a coward!

someone should burn this place.

you fucking asshole. you liar. you fucking lied to my fucking face.

you've been lying to me for over a year.

god, it's so fucking small. you're a liar and a cheat.

i thought writers hated cliches.

wah, boohoo, i got laid off. guess i'll fuck a 20-year-old.

i can't figure out what the fuck they mean.

are they supertwat's?

we're dealing with a 20-year-old who isn't sure where she leaves her undies.

free spirit is code for stupid.

just because the guy isn't weeping, doesn't mean he's not hurting.

the hallmark of a sociopath is lack of empathy.

are you trying to tell me that this photo is remotely in the realm of acceptable behaviour?

a picture is worth a thousand words. ever heard that phrase?

i'm so sick of being picked apart by women.

for valentine's day, i thought i'd buy a gun.

i'm being paranoid. crazy. i'd just sleep better with a gun.

if someone were staging a crime scene, why mop up blood?

a pool of blood and no body suggests homicide.

why have you kept this stuff? it's like a little box of hate.

you know how hard it is to make a murder case without a body? it's incredibly difficult. so i want one last thing... i want a body.

sometimes, the way he looks at me? this man of mine may kill me.

i'm so much happier now that i'm dead.

he took my pride and my dignity and my hope and my money.

he took and took from me until i no longer existed. that's murder. let the punishment fit the crime.

to fake a convincing murder, you have to have discipline.

america loves pregnant women. as if it's so hard to spread your legs.

you know what is hard? faking a pregnancy.

you need to bleed. you need to clean.

men always use 'cool girl' as the defining compliment, don't they?

go ahead! cum on me! i don't mind, i'm cool girl.

i waited years for the pendulum to swing the other way — for men to read jane austen and make out while we leer.

i will admit: for someone who likes to win, it's tempting to be the girl every guy wants.

for him, i was willing to try.

i wax-stripped my pussy raw and blew him regularly.

i forged the man of my dreams.

he actually expected me to love him unconditionally.

he doesn't get to fucking win.

grown-ups work for things. grown-ups pay. grown-ups suffer consequences.

fucking crazy bitch.

she's framing me for her murder.

you are married to a psychopath.

your problem is just beginning.

does missouri have the death penalty?

as long as you don't own a python and blast death metal at 4am, we're gonna be best friends.

that's the most disgusting thing i've ever heard.

are you laughing me out of your building?

this is why i have a $100,000 retainer — because i win unwinnable cases.

so far, this is a he-said-she-said.

i haven't had a date in almost a decade because if a girl googles me? bye-bye.

if i could make up a girl, this would be the fucking girl.

she framed you with the ties you wouldn't wear.

can you imagine being almost 30 years old and never having had anything go wrong for you?

i'm serious. i will not say a word against that girl.

i can't imagine what she's got in store for you.

that's life, baby.

the whole thing just feels... easy. like finding an envelope marked CLUE.

ever heard that phrase - the simplest answer is often correct?

whatever the hell they found, we have to assume it's very bad.

he's nice because he wants to fuck you.

i'm not sad. i'm angry.

i was going to kill myself. can you believe that?

why should i die? i'm not the asshole.

it's a ticking time bomb. you gotta throw yourself on it.

a guy admitting he's a giant asshole? people love that stuff.

looks like you've done a good job.

where's the money, sweetheart?

you've hiding. i don't know why, and i don't care.

i don't think you've ever really been hit.

next place, be more careful, okay? lot of people out there worse than us.

every time you look smug or annoyed or tense, i'm going to hit you with a jellybean.

why are you so good to me?

why is it that when i need someone to save me, i always think of you?

oh my god. you little slut.

she's the girl with the giant cum-on-me tits.

come. you're staring at ghosts.

seriously, i can't believe how fucking good you were.

you are so good to me. and i am so exhausted.

you'll be very safe. i won't let you get away again.

you scared me. don't do that. i need to feel safe.

you were never under my thumb.

you are the best person i have ever known.

they disliked me, they liked me, they hated me, and now they love me.

whenever you said something stupid, i thought 'maybe he's just stupid'. i was wrong.

none of this is mine - none of this was put here by me.

i need some time to think.

that's the last thing you need.

i'm not going to force myself on you.

i just want you to be you again.

my defence is the truth.

want to play a little true or false?

you thought quinoa was a fish?

you fucking bitch.

it's an insane story.

don't blame yourself.

you must've bled quite a bit there.

how'd she get the box cutter if she was always tied up?

stop pretending.

i just said what you wanted to hear.

that's how well you know me! you know me in your marrow.

take off your clothes.

you're a murderer.

i'm a fighter. i fought my way back to you.

you begged for me to save your life. and i obliged.

the media will destroy you.

give it the night. sleep on it.

was there ever a baby?

if two people love each other and can't make it work, that's the real tragedy.

kiss my cheek. now.

you can't live in the same house as that spider.

mess with it, they'll come looking for blood.

we had the national spotlight on us, and we stained the rug.

i swear to god, you two are the most fucked-up people i've ever known. and i specialise in fucked up.

i'm the definition of 'at risk'.

remember: don't turn your back.

i'd never hurt you. i do need you to participate though. that's fair, right?

tell the truth and shame the devil.

fuck it. let everyone take sides.

i love tests.

we are toxic. we complete each other in the sickest possible way.

you think you could ever be with a nice, normal woman?

i complete you. i'm the only one who can.

stay with me and i will make you happy. you know i can. i've killed for you.

you're breaking my heart.

what have we done to each other? what will we do?

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

What do you think of Sarah Brightman in POTO? She gets so much hate from the "phans" but I love her as Christine. She looks so victorian, classy, proper and innocent. When I got into the show (which I regret) I couldn't stop watching her with MC and Steve. I love her voice, it's so unique as Gillian Lynne described — like a dew dropping. Also Michael Crawford and her were similar in age to Erik and Christine. I think she wasn't more sympathetic and "into" him because that's how she was instructed to act, Hal Prince was very clear about Christine loving Raoul though she felt sorry for Erik. And Steve Barton was such a perfect Raoul. My all time favorite pair is JOJ & Gina as well as JOJ & Katie Hall. I also adore Hugh Panaro & Samantha Hill.

Honestly I would love to give an opinion, but I can't because I have only ever seen one Brightman performance and it was quite degraded, so her visual performance was very difficult to analyze.

What I will say is that I didn't know this about Hal Prince (keep in mind, I've only been in the Phandom for about eight months, so I'm still learning a lot of the production's history.) And I find that interesting, given the fact that Lloyd Webber himself has always dropped hints (and in more recent years, been more open about) his own very pro e/c feelings. I think in the end, everyone in the production has their own perspective, and those combinations of attitudes bubble and collide on stage with different outcomes every time. We have to keep in mind that every element of the main trio shifts the chemistry and even with repeats of the exact same trio, sometimes the vibe you get from Christine can be very different show-to-show. I've seen Crawford/Kristien/Barton in three separate boots and Kristien's performance has had varying degrees of enthusiasm with Erik in every one. In one she was more naïve and timid, in another she was blatantly horny.

I've seen Gina Beck absolutely terrified with Ramin Karimloo and gently spooked with David Shannon. I've seen Rachel Barrell mortified with John Owen Jones and sweetly sympathetic with Earl Carpenter (though her Christine always seems to be Lukewarm for Erik no matter what).

I can also say, having worked with some theatre directors (and of course, every director is different in how far they view their directorial power reaching) but the ones I've talked to have said "when we're in rehearsal it's my job to show you what to do. Once that curtain comes up, my job is done: it's in your hands, you know what to do."

Of course there's a limit to defying direction, but an actors job is not just to stand there and do what they're told. They have to do it in the way that will feel most organic to them and to the people watching. Theatre direction is different than movie direction. The director can't stop the show and give the actors notes to make sure that everything goes just how they want it to. The actors have a lot of power to interpret their direction, and like I said, that interpretation can vary from show to show even when it's the exact same main cast.

So I'm sure Brightman had performances where she was more into Erik and ones where she was more into Raoul. But I don't know.

Now as for her voice, I'm going to be honest that yes it's unique and she's without a doubt a fantastic singer, I'm not a huge fan of her vocal quality. Her voice is very thick to my ears and it's just not my favourite. I don't hate it by any means, but it's just not my favourite.

As for the hate, idk. If she did have a lukewarm performance across the board, it is partially her fault, but as I've said, creating a role is a difficult thing. Other Christines have been able to look at her and form impressions, have ideas and come to conclusions that Brightman may not even have thought of at the time. It's a lot of work to build a character with nothing to go on except the book which only partially resembles the story you're acting out, so I'm disinclined to be very harsh towards her. But I think we as phans have a feeling that no matter how many Erik/Christine pairings we've seen where Christine definitely embraces her attraction to Erik and leaves only reluctantly at the end--pairings that vindicate the E/C stance a lot of us hold dear--theres a sense (and an irrational one, I think) that the original interpretations are the only ones that really matter. While that's understandable, I think it's a bit of a fallacy, because as I've said, shows like this grow over time. New interpretations add new layers and ideas occur to both actors and directors that they maybe want to approach things differently from now on. If they changed their perspectives, it must be for a reason. The first version is often flawed.

ALSO keep in mind that later Christine's, Raoul's and Phantom's have had the benefit of full-text translations of the book that weren't available to the original cast and crew. Post 1990 Christines had the benefit of knowing that, in the book, Christine practically admits to Raoul that, if Erik was handsome, she would certainly have fallen completely in love with him (and, with Erik being pretty darn sexy in the musical, that definitely shifts the perception of Christine as a character and how she would make her decisions in this musical timeline). Maybe this is a factor into why most of the 90's Christines I've seen really went in for an enthusiastic interpretation.

Who can really say?

Also yes, Hugh and Samantha slap.

She's one of my top 5 Christines.