#and I was actually kind of excited because the right was a bloated mess!

[alienjaded]

Bathing, baking, and saving my own life: Dreams of the future.

I took a bath yesterday and then continued to cry for twenty hours straight (and more, I'm still crying as I write this).

Does this mean I'm healing? Broken? Human? Not human anymore?

I don't even know anymore, dude. I haven't felt feelings so hard in so long, but I've just been laying here crying, working, not sleeping, drinking coffee and energy drinks, vaping, and crying. Crying, crying, crying. It's weird.

I don't bathe regularly. I don't move regularly, or eat regularly, or sleep like ... at all.

I just work. I work, I vape, I may or may not pass out from fatigue, I take impeccable care of my teeth because they are my last human strength, but let my hair tangle into dreadlocks, rinse, and repeat. I am a mother fucking mess.

But I bathed. I don't even know why. I really didn't feel like it. I was just in a state of derealization and dissociation, where thoughts were no longer the boss of me, and I just bathed almost of curiosity. Maybe I was subconsciously aware that I was crossing a threshold between passingly functional and alarmingly clinical if I did not force myself to take a bath right then ...

Bathing ... hurt. It felt really good. And that pleasure really hurt. It hurts to feel good, because I don't trust it.

Living hurts a lot right now. Every time that I am silent and alone with my thoughts - no media, no music, no conversations - all I can hear in my head is "ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch." I don't even know when that pain started, or how long I have been carrying it. I've grown so used to drowning it out and numbing myself entirely. But I'm feeling it finally, and it seems unending.

My husband and I are moving away from this God forsaken state that is way too sickeningly bloated with shitty history. I hate this town and I'm ready to leave, but I'm not excited. I hate being married to my husband. I hate living with him and being in the same room with him. I want to die when he looks at me.

Funny thing is, I don't actually hate him. I actually love him dearly. He is my family and my best friend, so although I feel absolutely nothing but pain when I am around him, I give him the spousal support and kindness that I feel my friend deserves. He deserves a teammate, kind words, and affirmation. I can only be his friend, but I try to be a good one ...

But my body writhes in agony around him, because it can't forget what he did to me. It sucks. My head and my heart forgive and want to move on, but my gut, my nervous system, my adrenal glands, my kidneys, they scream and shut down whenever they are in the same room. I am miserable.

There was a time when he was absolutely fucking awful to me. I tried to leave him, but he wouldn't let me. He would either hold himself hostage by cutting his arm with kitchen knives, punching himself in the face, or tearing handfuls of his hair out ... Or he would physically hold me prisoner. He would hold the door closed when I tried to open it, wrap me in a bear hug if I tried to run away, and lick my face (I am autistic and horribly disgusted by spit - even my own). These were the tamest methods he would use to stop me from leaving.

That period of time was the darkest of my life. And although he has seen a therapist, and things have changed, I have not been able to move. I've been physically frozen. I rarely leave my house - or bed, for that matter. I've dropped twenty pounds and three pant sizes from atrophy alone. I'm thinking about taking up smoking, just for the fresh air.

I'm free now, but in my body, I am still a prisoner. I think he broke me. As I mentioned, we've been moving. He hasn't lifted a finger to pack a box. I normally wait until he falls asleep to enjoy precious moments of alone time, when I can just be with myself. I recently spent those liminal hours packing. It took all of my will power to leave my bed and pack these boxes. They were, to me, my statement to the universe that I was ready and willing to "move." Truly move. To truly live, open to this next chapter.

The next fucking morning, my husband woke up and unpacked my fucking boxes. He did not repack the boxes, he just left the shit all over the floor. His reasoning was that he wanted to throw away everything in them, and that I did not pack them properly in the first place. I can't pack sugar with tea, apparently. FUCKING WHAT? Ugh, anyways.

Here's the fucking thing. Everything that he wanted to throw away was related to baking - the activity that I engage in when I am happiest. I never bake unless I am happy, and when I am happy, I bake all of the time. At one point, it was my dream to open a bakery; baking is the overflow of joy and light in my soul. This is exactly why I chose to pack that box. Isn't it just so fucking appropriate that he unpacked this specific box and left the shit all over the floor.

His reasoning was that we can just buy more baking ingredients when we get there. Apparently, it was a waste of time to pack the ingredients in the first place (clearly). Also, according to him, I used the wrong box I used a canvas box, when I should have used cardboard. It does not seem to matter that the sound of cardboard sets my level 2 ASD on edge, catalyzing almost instant sensory processing meltdowns. It's not like that exact detail, which I have shared many times with him, happens to be exactly why we have canvas boxes. Fuck, man.

Ultimately, I compromised, telling him that he could throw away only the expired ingredients ... This ended up being literally everything. Every item was expired, some by four to five years. We've been married for five years ...

The very last time that I made baked anything was for his birthday last year; the very last night that I felt any hope in my life. This particular night is what siphons my sleep and stabs me in every silent moment. This was the night that I silently packed my bag and tried to sneak away at 4 am; the night I got caught by him, and he almost took our lives in his manic delirious fit. The night that he cannot talk about or own up to when he asks me why I am too lazy to move, and why I seem to have given up on living. The night that I stopped baking and my soul died.

I absolutely hate my existence with him. I feel like I've been slowly killing myself, the long way around, with substance abuse and sleep deprivation. I know that if I were to just off myself, he would follow. But if I were to do it slowly, subtly, and outside of his radar, he might just be able to move on and be happy.

I'm basically already dead inside. I think I might still care about living, because I've learned to shut up and bite my tongue when we argue, because a part of me still feels primally afraid that one day he might just take both of our lives if he becomes unstable enough.

Anyways, I took a bath yesterday. I lit incense and played music, and just cried. I cried, because I remembered what bathing was like before I met my husband. What living was like before him. I stopped burning incense because he didn't like the smell. I stopped playing guitar and signing, because it triggered his insecurities. I stopped speaking and sharing my opinions with him, because his fragile fucking ego could not allow a single sentence that I said to make any remote sense.

I parted with every possible comfort that made my life beautiful, because he did not like them. And he would not let me leave to go be with them again. Every time that I tried, and managed to get away from his physical grasp because I was fast or sneaky enough, he would follow me to hotels, family members' homes, or other towns ... he would stand in front of my car when I tried to drive away, in front of the Ubers when I tried to Uber away. In front of me, every few steps, for miles, when I tried to walk away. I fought with every ounce of tenacity and determination, but he just beat me fucking down with his stubborness. I fought with all of my might; he was just stronger.

So, I gave up. I tried leaving in other ways. Mostly doing a fuck ton of drugs. I became infatuated with another man. I didn't allow myself to seduce this man the way that I continuously fantasized about doing, but I did allow myself to fantasize about doing it. Fantasizing about this stranger was better than doing drugs, for a period of time. And then it wasn't. I accidentally fell in love. After that, it got real for me. And when it got real, it got moral, and when it got moral, it became torturous.

So then I would just do drugs to not only escape my husband, but also to escape the fantasy of another man that emerged as a method of escaping my husband. Escaping to escape my escaping, I realized, was the most fucked up prison. But I just needed to escape. I needed to check out. I could not leave my house, so I tried to leave my body and mind. I needed to leave my feelings, so I could not feel the grating harshness of my husband's voice, the misery of his ego, his infuriating gaze, his terrifying mania, my ever present fear of him, my yearning for freedom, and my longing for someone else who represented life to me. It hurt. It all hurt so bad, so I just did whatever drug that I could.

When I was prescribed opiods, I popped them like candy. I don't even know how I survived that, and honestly, I don't think my soul did. I'm just a husk. I don't know if I will ever get myself back. I feel so dead inside. I want to say I got better. I stopped doing drugs. But I never stopped hurting. It hurts so much,

I hope that someday I'll see myself wearing a nice suit with good posture and combed hair, talking about something cool that I did to help people ... or even just to help myself. I hope that my future self someday speaks to my present self, about how strong, smart, sneaky, and strategic I was in saving my own life and escaping this absolute hell of a life, with all hearts intact. Including my husband's, but especially my own ... if I still have one, that is.

I think I really need to save my own life, assuming it isn't already over.

#derealization #ptsd #tw sui ideation #crisis #trauma dump #drug abuse #tw drugs

[winepresswrath]

If Rey has a force baby with Kylo instead of just being a Sheevakin attempt at replicating Vader's powers with a less annoying personality I'm going to be so annoyed. Star Wars is always letting me down with their flavour of stupid; they could choose to be outrageously dumb in a fun, sexy way (Sheevakin test tube baby whose embryo was unfrozen by scrappers) and instead they choose relyo that not even reylos wanted. I've become a bitter old nerd yearning for they days when George Lucas was stupid with vision and unearned confidence in the cinematic value of early 2000s CGI.

#man when Disney took over #and I was actually kind of excited because the right was a bloated mess! #what fun fresh new stories could we tell? #I was a fool #obviously #so what if anakin 2 was a ghost #jacen sucked #and jaina had the worst love triangle of all time #(team no one) #there was verve #the bitter aspiring sci-fi writers who felt that Star Wars tie in novels were beneath them had verve #we get thrawn back but not Mara #Star Wars

[spideyspeaches]

Can’t escape (the way I love you) ↬a.r

A/N: This is a repost from my old account :) @th0ttie4tommy​ here you go :)

Warnings: cursing, use of wooden spoon, seX, canon typical voilence-ish)

MINORS DNI

WC: 3.1K

Summary: after running away from knockemstiff, Arvin finds his way to Cincinnati and finds a girl instead.

Pairing: Arvin Russell x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Sleep didn’t come easy to Arvin now that he was hitchhiking his way to Cincinnati. Flashes of his daddy on the prayer log with his neck cut off, Lenora’s limp body hanging, the preacher bleeding his guts out and even the photograph of the whore- the Sheriff’s little sister- all played in his mind like a broken record.

Sighing, he leaned back on the seat and watched the long haired driver honk on the ongoing vehicles, the noises sending shards of pain up his skull. He really wanted to sleep, and maybe smoke a cigarette, but he didn’t want to think about the possibilities of what would happen if he slept in a random stranger’s truck.

Just the thought of sleep reminded him of the old man and the whore’s faces, making him sit up straight.

“You okay there boy?” The long haired man raised an eyebrow, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

Arvin shook his head, wincing at the movement as his sore body struggled to not give in to the strong pull of sleep.

“I’m good. How far away are we from the city?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he saw the Sheriff’s car go past them.

“We have a long way to go. Why don’t you take a shut eye meanwhile?” The driver said.

“No thank you. I’ll stay awake. Sleep is for the week and all.” He mumbled, fixing his cap.

“Okay, if you say so” The driver responded, shrugging and continued driving.

Arvin looked out of the window, watched as the trees passed by, a lonely dog making a trek as it wiggled it’s tail. His heart gave a thump, chest aching as the dog reminded him of Jack. He really missed the mutt, he didn’t deserve the death it got.

Pulling his cap over his eyes, he squinted at the slight indication of dawn, the pull of sleep too strong to ignore now. His mouth went slack and neck bobbed with the wobbly rout, a huge yawn leaving him, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.

***

“Hey kid! Wake up!” The man said, shaking out of his sleep. He woke up in a disoriented haze, head throbbing harshly against his skull, body heavy with exhaustion. Sitting up with a gasp, he saw that the man had stopped the truck, panic seizing his lungs. Was that it? Would the driver pull a gun on him just like those Henderson whores had?

Looking around, he noticed a small diner, stomach growling with hunger, as if in response to seeing the place.

“Whe- Where are we?” He said sharply, noticing the driver’s eyes trailing him. He shuddered at the man’s gaze.

“We’re at a rest stop. Figured you might be hungry.” He replied gruffly, getting off the side door, “You comin’ or not boy?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’ll be there.” He whispered. Maybe he could run away from here, hitchhike another ride to the city. His eyes landed on the board on the corner of the road. He was relieved to find that he was already in the city.

Before he knew it though, his feet were carrying him towards the diner, a cigarette making its way to his mouth as an invisible string pulled him towards the small place. He complied, too tired to make anything of the situation.

The bell rang as he opened the door, pushing himself inside before he could think. Taking an empty seat, he leaned on his hands as his heart stuttered to a stop.

Literally stopped.

It felt like he was in a parallel universe filled with coincidences, flashbacks of his old house back in Ohio, his daddy sitting on a ratty stool as he talked about his mama . Because in front of him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He remembered his daddy telling him how he met his mother in a diner in a small town, just like the one Arvin was in right now.

Throwing away the butt in an ashtray, he tried to speak, but no words came out. He stuttered a small smile, looking at your bright eyes as you said something.

“What do I get for you honey?” You asked in a soft voice, oh your voice was such a melody.

“A coffee would be good.” He finally said, licking his lips and thumbing his wallet nervously. He hadn’t left with much money.

“You look like you need solid food and aspirin.” You smirked, pouring a hot cup of coffee in front of him. You slid a cheesecake, smiling at his surprised expression. “It’s on me.“

"Oh- I uhm. Thank you.” He nodded. He took a bite of the soft dessert, nearly moaning at its sweet taste. His taste buds were jumping from the onslaught of the sweet flavour, sighing as he sipped at the bitter coffee. It was the best food he’d had in a few days.

Turning around in his seat, he saw that the driver was nowhere in sight. Great. He had ditched him. Thankfully he still had his belongings with him.

Turning around again, he fidgeted with his fingers just as you appeared in the line of his sight.

“You’re not from here are you?” You ask, wiping your hands on your apron.

“No. How’d you know?” He raised an eyebrow, a smile appearing on his face.

“Well you look quite lost. Do you have a place to stay?” You leaned forward, the open collar showing just a little bit of your cleavage. He licked his lips, trying not to stare.

“I don’t actually. My ride ditched me.” He shrugged, “thanks for the cheesecake by the way."

"Oh it’s alright. The leftovers go to those bloated buffoons anyway. You looked starved, so I wondered why not?” You collected the cutlery from the other customers, shouting orders at the kitchen for the others. “You say your ride ditched you? My grandma owns a motel not far from here, I could get you a room to stay for s while."

"Oh no no no! That- you’ve already done so much for me and you don’t even know me!” He stumbled. He wasn’t used to this sort of kindness, considering the shit his life took in the past few months.

“It’s no trouble really! I’m just going there after this shift anyway, will probably stay in the penthouse for a while.” You said.

Before he could say anything to confirm or deny your offer, You were removing your apron, handing it to another girl as you hopped over the counter.

Fixing your dress and hair, you go to the back of the kitchen and yell something at the manager, walking out of the house, looking behind and silently asking him to follow.

Arvin tried to follow you, sighing in relief when he found you leaning against the wall in the back. But instead of calling out for you, he scrambled for a cigarette, groaning internally when he found only one left and lit it with a matchstick. Taking a drag, he breathed in the familiar burning in his throat, leaning against a pole.

He felt more than saw you eyeing him from the corner of his eye, heart speeding up like he was in highschool and had a crush on one of the girls or guys. He hadn’t stuck around much to date anyone, but the time he had making out with them was good enough for him.

“My name’s Y/N by the way.” You said, biting your lips as you looked at him.

“Russell Arv- I mean- Arvin Russell.” He stuttered, pulling out the joint from his mouth.

He took a deep breath, letting the silent roads and windy weather calm his racing heart down. He thought about leaving right there, not wanting to get someone who looked as innocent as you did, in a mess like his life was. Before he could walk away though, you were walking towards him, biting your lips.

“Uhh, so my grandma’s place?” You asked nervously.

“You barely know me and you’re letting me stay with you. For all you know, I could be a murderer.” He joked. You chuckled and made a face at him, dragging him to your Cadillac. He followed anyway.

(He almost laughed at how ironic he sounded, shaking his head internally.)

“Thanks for letting me stay Mrs. L/N” He smiled at your grandma as she shook his hands, enthusiastically shoving cookies down his throat and excited that you had brought a boy with you.

“She’s nice."

"She’s the best.”

He intended to stay for a day and hitch a ride, stay far far away from this place. He didn’t want to corrupt these people, he tried to reason. But he couldn’t let go, he just kept interacting.

(A little girl in the neighbourhood liked to play with his hat. He smiled at the small child, surprised to find the unadulterated happiness that radiated off the wee kiddo when he played with her. The people smiled a lot too.)

A day turned to two, two to a week and then nearly a month passed and no one asked him once why he lived with a girl and her grandma.

(Or why he flinched every time he saw a gun or an officer of law walk by).

He also managed to score a job at the diner, for washing the plates. He found that he didn’t mind helping people

You didn’t know how fast time could pass, and as it grew it’s sneaky tendrils, your heart grew a mind of its own as you spent days fantasizing your time with him, of you under him as he fucked you senseless.

Tracing his biceps, you leaned forward, mouth nearly touching his. He cupped your jaw, grabbing your waist and lifted you off the ground, slamming you against the concrete wall and kissed you.

Your mouth tasted like berries, which berries he didn’t know, maybe strawberries, fuck if he cared. Maybe it was your Chapstick.

“Arvin.” You moaned against his mouth, hands reaching for the collar of his shirt as he shoved you against the wall, holding your ass to keep your balance. His tongue swirled around your lips, hands sliding up your legs in a soothing motion.

You could taste the nicotine in his mouth, but you couldn’t be bothered. All you wanted was this beautiful stranger right now. A stranger who you felt like you’ve known your whole life.

“Shh sweetheart, don’t want anyone to hear us would we?” He whispered in your ear, holding his hands over your lips to shush you. You nodded, eyes half closed as you enjoyed the feeling of his rough denim rub against your thighs, the sheer friction of his movements causing heat to pool your gut.

“Arvin,” you moaned softly, running your hands through his hair, “Arvin, wait. I- I know a place."

He stopped for a second, Looking at you with a bewildered expression. "What kind of place?"

You gulped, getting off of him and walking around and outside the master bedroom, making sure no one was in the corridor. Following you, his eyes grew wide as he saw you open a door to a dungeon, switching on the flickering lights to reveal a small square area room.

The room was dimly lit and dusty. It was surrounded by racks but he could not see what was kept in them. In the centre though, was a single obsolete piece of wooden slab surrounded by long rods of metal attached to it. It must have been an old hospital bed- the kind the troops used. It sat flat against the floor. He looked at you again.

"My daddy used to bring things from the war, whips, guns, handcuffs. Everything. Everything.” Your low voice sent chills up his spine. With shaking hands, he scoured the cupboards, wiping off the dust from his fingers as he came across a pair of brass knuckles and handcuffs. Fingering them, he looked at you as you nodded.

“Do you- do you want me to use ‘em? On ya?” He said. He could feel his already hard dick throb painfully almost, the lust in your eyes making him feel things.

“Use them on me Arvin. I wanna feel you use the cold metal against me as you fucked me so hard I couldn’t walk tomorrow.” You suddenly push him against the cupboards, his back hitting with a thud as you traced his chest through his shirt, scrambling to remove off the offending clothing.

You scratched his chest lightly, fingers gliding against his pecs and abs as they clenched, moving in a sensual manner. He was impatient, you could practically smell his excitement in waves. The scent of his cologne was overwhelming in a way that made your insides tingle with your own arousal.

“Fuck- sweetheart.” He whimpered, his legs weak for you, waiting to feel your walls.

Kissing his neck and then chest and nipples, you dig your teeth around the skin, eliciting a moan deep from his throat. You were shaking with anticipation, hastily removing your frock and throwing it to somewhere. He held you for a second, admiring your body and giving you a gratifying look. His hands linger around your chest, unhooking your bra holding them as he kisses your chest while  bending down with trails of kisses down all the way to your tummy.

You pant as he reaches your navel, slender fingers sliding your panties off you as you sigh in relief, ecstatic that you were now fully naked in front of the boy of your desires.

He plunged his fingers inside your dripping core, your legs trembling as he licked off dripping cum from your folds.

“Already wet for me huh? Wait till I use these on you, how will you feel then babygirl? Want me to use them don’t you?” He urges, spreading your legs apart and moving you so that your butt hit the wooden plank. You whimper at the force, back arching as he dribbles your clit with his spit, licking it off you and then standing up. You immediately miss the contact, and thankfully it wasn’t for long before he came back.

He unbuttoned his pants so that he was too fully exposed now, his cock springing out made you crave for it even more now, but before you could do anything, he took your hand, cuffing it to the railing of the plank. You cursed at the tightness, adjusting your wrist so that they wouldn’t hurt. You whimpered when you felt a cold wooden spoon run along your chest. He held the dip of the spoon on top of them leaving indents, his other hand’s thumb kneading into your flesh.

“Is this okay princess? Don’t wanna hurt your pretty little hand. Just wanna hear you moan my name.” He whispered, voice cracking due to the octave it took when you gave a shrill cry of surprise, your other hand clutching at his hair, causing you to lose your balance and falling on your ass.

“I need you Arvin! I need you now please help me!” You cry out, your eyes devoid of tears but your voice showing your emotion. You were hungry, starved and his cock looked delicious. You just wanted him inside.

“A little patience would be appreciated.” He growled against your chest, biting at the sensitive skin. You must have said that out loud.

“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it in me.” You whimper, scrunching your eyes as he nipped at your neck, rubbing the tip of his dick on your clit. His tip was bright red, hard and erect. You wrapped your legs around his shoulder, bringing him down at you. His fingers kept playing while his mouth worked.

“I’m so wet Arvin, only for you baby, look at me, so wet.” The wooden spoon made contact with your chest again, sliding down to your ass as he gently nudged your back. He didn’t hit you, no, that son of a bitch teased you with slow motions of its cold surface. You kissed him till your lips were plump and red with blood dripping off the thin skin, his mouth leaving his lingering taste in yours.

Finally, finally, he slid into you. You gave a shrill cry as his member entered you, your walls clenching around it as if you wanted it to stay in you forever. You arched your back, your waist hitting his pelvis, causing it to slap around him. You unconsciously dug your fingers in his back, gritting your teeth at the sudden sensory input.

“So tight baby. Clenching around me like a fucking ant-eater. You like this don’t you darlin’? Like it when I slide in."

"Yes baby.” You whispered. Sweat dripped off of the both of you, your slicked bodies slapping against each other, “Oh I’m about to cum! Arvin!"

"Cum on me baby, cum on my dick so I can shove in harder.” He clenched himself, mouth forming an O as he felt you orgasm around him, his dick sliding out of you. Pumping his balls, he clenched his jaw at the sight of you, panting under him with your legs spread apart. “You’re such a good girl. Always listening to what I say."

"Because you’re the best.” You flopped down on the board, your back hitting it. You jiggled your arm that was held in the handcuff, the movement bringing Arvin toppling down to you. He fell on your breasts, face smushed in as if he was sleeping on a pillow. You erupted in a fit of giggles as he licked you with kitten-like strips.

“Did you like that? Was that- was that okay?” He huffed, probably as tired as you were right now. His muscles relaxed under your touch, unclenching as you ran your hands on his back. You hissed when you saw that your hand had caused bloody indents on his skin.

“That was amazing sweetheart.” You paused, “I’m so glad we met that day."

"Me too. I didn’t believe in love for a very long time after momma died, and then my daddy died, and then Lenora-” he said, choking on his tears, “- my sister, Lenora, that fucking preacher. He killed her."

"Arvin, baby I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I can’t bring them back. But I can hold you. I can hold you forever if you want. I can love you."

You froze for a moment, realising what you had said. You had met only a month ago, and yet here you were, telling him that you loved him. Your heart did gallops when he didn’t answer for a while, and then you heard it. You heard him say those three words, a soft whisper in the night.

"I love you too."  

#arvin russell smut #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #arvin russell x reader smut #peter parker x reader smut #tom holland smut #spideygirl writes

[airplanned]

Ned Talks About Fight Scenes

I write a lot of fight scenes, and I consider it something I'm good at.  There are a lot of things to consider when writing a fight scene and they all intersect with each other.  I'm going to talk about three things: Clarity, Emotion, and Flow. 

Clarity is important, because you don't want your reader to stop and say, "Wait, there's another guy?" "Since when did they have an axe?" "I thought they were on the ground?"  "When did they get inside?"  Anything that pulls the reader out of the story disrupts your flow and is bad.  You need things to clip along, so be sure that your choreography makes sense and that you're clear about what's going on.  

The biggest problem I see in fight scenes is when a transition is missed so a character is over here, and then all of a sudden they're over there or facing a different way.  I'm not saying that there needs to be a whole big thing made about the transition, because that will affect your flow and slow you down with excess description, making it feel bloated.  But saying, "He turned around," takes up minimal space and will sometimes save you a lot of grief.  

I think the easiest example to show of this is actually a make-out scene I read ages ago.  (Make-out scenes and fight scenes have a lot in common.) It went something like this: "He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her shoulder.  She hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist."  ...   The picture I have in my head is that he’s still behind her, but her legs are folded backward like a ballerina.  This would be easily preventable with a simple "She turned around and..."  

Now, this example is a very close example.  The characters are attentive to every little moment, so a jump into a different position is jarring.  A fight scene example would be if you have a one-on-one duel, and it's emotional and calculating, and your character is very attuned to every movement that their opponent makes.  It's a little different if you have a sweeping battle scene with a horde of hundreds of enemies, like if you're writing an Age of Calamity battle.  Your main character isn't thinking in minute steps, but rather in sweeping moves, so your reader is fine not hearing that your character has turned around, but wouldn't be fine not knowing that your character is suddenly bleeding from dozens of fatal wounds or is half way through a battle with a big monster that actually matters.  So be aware of the scope of your scene, and that will guide you in how detailed you need to be.  (Also keep in mind that you can zoom in, like you fight a big Age of Calamity battle, but then things get more personal when you meet the boss and fight them.)

I know that just saying "don't so this" is not super helpful.  First of all, sometimes something is so clear in your head that you don't even know that your reader isn't following you.  The main solution to that is a beta reader.  A second set of eyes can easily point out these moments.  You can also draw stick figures (it's fun!).  For each sentence, draw where they would be and make sure the change between them makes sense.  

Sometimes, you might have something very complicated in mind.  But if you cant describe it clearly, it's not worth it and it might be worth scaling back.  Killing your darlings happens.

Sometimes, the fight will be a huge mess and our hero will be flailing around, not knowing what's going on or which way is up or when it's going to be over.  But in that case, you can just say that.  Be clear about it.  And then tell us what your POV character does know.  If they're overwhelmed, tell us what they feel.  Adding in emotion can actually be clarifying in explaining to the reader why the character acts the way they do.

Which brings us to

Emotion.  It's important for a lot of reasons.  First of all, if you leave out the emotion completely and have it be straight action the whole time, then your hero looks as if it's no big thing.  This battle is simple and they are a killing machine.  Maybe that's what you want.  But if there's no tension for your character, there won't be any tension in your reader.  If you say that this scene is no sweat, I (the reader) will not be sweating.  But if your character is struggling, if they're fearing, if they're exhausted or hurt, I'm going to worry for them and you automatically have tension.

Second of all, I tend to write more character driven things, and what's the point of the fight scene if it doesn't have some effect on the character or show something about them?  What purpose does it serve in the story?  Maybe it's just to be cool, and that's okay, but don't expect more from it if that's the case.

The other cool thing about including emotion is that if you have a paragraph in the middle of a fight scene where the character is thinking about how hard the fight is or worrying about protecting someone or excited to finally be using a sword again after a long hiatus, then your reader will assume that time is passing while they're thinking, and then when you pull out of that paragraph and back int the action, your character can be in a new place, fighting a new monster.  It's one way to avoid that jarring lack of transition that we talked about earlier.

So returning regularly to your POV character in a fight scene is a good idea.  I tend to do one pass where I just write the choreography (unless some big, climactic emotional moment is the whole point of the scene/story, in which case I'll write that first), then I'll do a second pass inserting some interiority. 

Flow deals with how the scene reads.  You want it to read fast (action packed!) because your character will be thinking fast and things will be moving fast and you want your reader's heart to be beating fast.

You can achieve a lot of this on a micro level with just word and punctuation choices.  1. Commas: a comma is a way to show a pause for breath, so in some cases, misusing commas and using a run-on sentences is your friend.  Lists are also your friend, because you can have this happening and that happening and something else over there and they felt dizzy and tired and yet the list goes on.  

2. Longer sentences tend to pul you forward through the sentence whereas short, choppy sentences have a lot of periods, which are hard pauses.  

3. To Be Verbs slow you down.  A "to be" verb is any conjugation of "to be": was, is, were, are, be, am.  You might have heard this in high school English class and rolled your eyes, and I have strong feelings about how this is not a hard and fast rule that should be used in all situations.  However, to be verbs DO slow you down, and that's not what you want here.  So let's use a test sentence like, "He was running towards the moblin."  The thing about this is that "run" isn't the verb.  "Was" is the verb.  What was he doing?  He was existing.  Which is more exciting: existing or running?  Change this to "He ran towards the moblin," and already that reads faster.  

4. Over-specificity will slow you down too.  There are so many fight scenes out there where I think they're trying not to fall into the trap discussed earlier of being unclear, so they go hard in the other direction and over-specify.  If you want to tell me at the very start that our hero has a sword in his left hand and a dagger in his right, go for it, but I don't want to hear about what anyone's left hand and right hand are doing during the actual fight.  (Unless handedness is a theme or something in your story?) I don't need to know how many degrees they turned to block a blow.  I don't need to know too many adjectives, because each of your adjectives should be hitting me in the face.

There's a lot more I could say about flow.  I do a lot of work with numbers of syllables and length of syllables, which means that certain words won't fit in the sentence I'm working on.  I do a lot with timing the big moments and arranging the white space around paragraphs so that the reader has a pause to go "oh shit!" when I want them to go "oh shit!"  I do a lot of onomatopoeia (sound effects) as shorthand for movement. "ClashClashClash. Boom!"  But I feel like getting into all that will be a bit too much and it's kind of more of a feeling than a science, so I'll stop here.

Good luck!

#follower day #craft essay

[jacksgreysays]

Hi yes mix-and-match anon so if you're still interested in the asofterworld version of the prompt when I said 31 I meant 31 off of your old asw promptlist which translates to asw 621. If not interested this is just a hi glad you're active on tumblr again! I still love your writing!

A/N: Hello, mix-and-match anon! :D

I’ll be honest, I’m kinda cheating here because I’ve been kinda wanting to write this particular fic (or some iteration of this particular fic) for a while but I didn’t quite know how to construct it. However your prompt finally launched me in a direction even though it’s definitely drifted away from the prompt itself so thank you! I hope you enjoy even though it’s still kinda rough and I’ll probably be editing it over the next couple of days to make it more coherent and less of a bloated run on mess.

~

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~

meeting and incidents unraveled

Haruno Sakura is not oblivious to the blessings and advantages she has in life. 

Caring and supportive parents, a stable home life with all of her needs and a majority of her wants met. Tuition at a good school with an intellect and self-discipline to make the most of it. Pretty enough looks to be, if not popular, then well liked among her peers.

She also is not oblivious to the sort of future all of that will give her.

Acceptance at whichever university she chooses, leading to a solid, successful career in whatever field she chooses. Kind and caring relationships paving their way to a kind and caring marriage. A caring, supportive, stable future just as caring, supportive, and stable as her past.

How boring.

But she doesn't have it in her to rebel and break away, grateful for those blessings and advantages for all that they keep her on a track. There's nothing wrong with success and stability. She's not oblivious to that, at least.

She just wishes for something a little bit... more.

---

I love the way your face lights up

when someone says,

"It might be dangerous."

(I am glad we are friends.)

---

(it could have gone like this)

"Do you think she's lost?" Sakura asks her classmates, bringing their attention to the window. Clean up duties after school are hardly fun, so any distraction is a welcome one.

There's a girl standing in the shadow of the tree in the courtyard. About their age, maybe, but the school uniform doesn't match theirs at all. Almost as if she feels Sakura's gaze, the girl meets her eyes and smiles--but surely that's not right. Sakura is up on the third floor.

"What are you talking about?" Tanaka-kun asks, looking out the window and somehow failing to see. Their other classmates on clean up duty also look, but none of them spot the girl either.

"Oh, nothing," Sakura says, dropping the matter immediately. She doesn't want to be known as the weirdo who sees things that aren't there. "I can't believe Honda-sensei assigned so much homework over the weekend!" She deflects and her classmates follow the prompt easily, the new topic of conversation out of her hands.

When Sakura looks back out the window, the girl in the shadow of the tree waves.

---

Magic is better with three.

This is what Sakura learns after discovering magic is real, after discovering that she herself has magic.

Magic is better with three and magic has different Aspects and the different Aspects of magic resonate with different people.

Sakura's magic, she learns, has Aspects of Earth and Healing and Growth. Those are powerful Aspects, she's been told, she can do a lot of good with that even on her own.

But young magicians are put in teams for a reason. Magic seeks balance. The consequences of misusing magic--of overreaching with magic--are extreme at best and horrifying at worst. 

Some lessons are learned the hard way.

---

(it could have gone like this)

"Oh, that's Shikako," Ino answers when Sakura finally brings it up weeks after the fact. Ino's magic has the Aspects of Mind and Flora and Adaptation which resonates nicely with Sakura's--perhaps in another world, they might have ended up on the same team, but in this particular world, well. Naruto and Sasuke are powerful magicians, but they're not very good at answering her questions...

"Shikamaru is one of my teammates," Ino continues, easily, "Shikako is his twin sister." Then her voice drops, tone a little more serious, a little more secretive. "Her Aspects never manifested." 

Sakura hasn't fully absorbed all the nuances of magical culture, but this at least she can understand: without Aspects, Shikako can never use active magic.  

"But she's absolutely brilliant with the academic side and she already has some research projects from the council," Ino says, quick to balance her words, and that along with the thinly veiled guilt is enough for Sakura to put the matter aside, moving on to other questions.

Still, though, it haunts her; somehow, simultaneously, in two different ways:

Shikako had been the one to find her. The girl in the shadow of the tree following a prototype magic seeker and finding a different girl who had never heard of magic, would never have known of the magic within her. Without Shikako, would she still be that magic-less boring girl destined for that magic-less boring life?

Alternatively, if Shikako had manifested her Aspects, would there even be a space for Sakura in this world of magic?

---

Uzumaki Naruto's Aspects are Sun and Belief and Present. Uchiha Sasuke's Aspects are Moon and Ambition and Past.

There was no doubt that they would be put on the same team.

Frankly, the only question was who could possibly match?

---

(it should have gone like this)

"Do you think she's lost?" Sakura asks her classmates. There's a girl standing in the shadow of the tree in the courtyard; about their age, maybe, but the school uniform doesn't match theirs at all. Almost as if she feels Sakura's gaze, the girl meets her eyes and smiles.

When it seems like none of her classmates can spot the girl in the shadow of the tree, Sakura drops the matter immediately. She doesn't want to be known as the weirdo who sees things that aren't there. She deflects and the new topic of conversation swiftly moves out of her hands.

Sakura looks back out the window, the girl in the shadow of the tree waves. Sakura exits the building, the girl in the shadow of the tree looks at her expectantly.

Sakura could ignore her and keep going--she has homework, after all--but even if she doesn't want to be known as a weirdo amongst her classmates, that doesn't mean she wants nothing interesting to happen in her life ever.

She already knows what will happen if she keeps on walking, ignoring the girl in the shadow of the tree. Sakura will go home, maybe stopping by a store or a cafe on the way. She will do her homework and do her chores and take a bath and eat dinner and sleep and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary because her life is predictable and that's just a synonym for boring.

So Sakura goes to the tree instead.

"Hello," Sakura says, because even if this girl is merely lost and not some guide to a more exciting world surely there's no harm in being polite. "Can I help you?"

"Maybe," says the girl in the shadow of the tree, lifting one hand palm up. Preemptively, she makes her hand glow with a pale, almost distant light. "Haruno Sakura, do you believe in magic?"

---

Nobody is born with fully manifested magic.

Active magic requires agency, will power and vision. Those are shaped by a magician's sense of self, their personality and convictions. Their Aspects.

There's more, of course. But sometimes more can lead to decisions a little riskier than predicted.

---

(it should have gone like this)

At first there is no team for Sakura which is a little disheartening but also, simultaneously, a relief. Almost all of the other magicians her age have been raised around magic, she already has so much to learn and catch up on that it's almost overwhelming! She can't possibly imagine what it would be like being introduced to a new world and then immediately thrown onto a team with strangers.

But her magical peers are supportive in their own way--most of them friendly, all of them definitely interesting. Their teams are well chosen, Aspects resonating beautifully, and whenever she has the free time in between diving headfirst into her magical studies and maintaining her grades at school she wonders what her teammates will be like. If they'll match her just as nicely. If she'll even have teammates.

"Don't worry," Shikako says with a smile, supportive and kind and definitely interesting. Behind her, her teammates bicker as ever--and while Sakura will admit, blushingly, that she was a little infatuated with Sasuke in the beginning, she would go mad if she had to put up with him and Naruto for too long--but Shikako appears as calm and as fond of them as ever.

"I found you didn't I?"

She did, yes. How she found the time in between her own magical research, high-octane team, and normal schoolwork of her own is baffling to Sakura. She's grateful, of course, but still. Sakura isn't even doing half as much and she's barely keeping up!

"Don't worry," Shikako says again, and if her tone turns a little vague, her gaze going beyond Sakura, well. Shikako is a very powerful magician...

"... you belong in this world. Magic seeks balance."

And Sakura nods, because that is one of the earlier lessons she was taught upon joining the magical world. For all the strangeness of Shikako's tone, it is reassuring. So Sakura nods and continues to voraciously consume all she can about this new world she belongs to so that when her teammates do appear she'll be prepared.

Shikako finds Yakumo first--her Aspects of Sky and Art and Acceptance--then comes Isaribi with the Aspects of Sea and Transformation and Trust. And Sakura finally feels like she actually belongs.

---

Magic is not completely a science, for all that there is cause and effect. It's not entirely an art, either, though some talented magicians make it seem that way. There are some parts of it that are understandable, quantifiable and predicable, but there is so much more that is beyond human comprehension. Even active magic which requires, in essence, humanity, can be beyond explanation. 

Aspects are an attempt at doing so, but for all that they determine the futures of most magicians, they can't perfectly encompass the whole of a magician's power. Because magic exists beyond words and definitions. Even abstract concepts can fail. Trying to apply terminology to magic? Might as well punch a god in the face.

And so when a girl born to the magical world, even if her Aspects manifest a little late, if there already exists a place for her on a team where she resonates so powerfully, well.

Stars and Determination and Future are close enough...

... for a human, that is.

---

(but it actually went like this)

A few months after an ordinary day in which no interesting strangers showed up to derail Sakura's life, she is on her way home from school. She's thinking about maybe stopping by a store or a cafe on the way, but maybe not. She still has to do her homework and chores before she can take a bath and eat dinner and sleep and do absolutely nothing out of the ordinary because her life is predictable and that's just a synonym for boring.

A pair of boys--about her age, maybe, but in school uniforms different from hers--stop her. They've been looking for her, they say, and while the dark-haired one is handsome enough that she'd normally blush and think it romantic first words, his tone and the fact that his blonde friend is also there ruins that theory.

Also, they know her name and that's weird. She says as much, which causes them to start bickering, and in their distracted state she takes the opportunity to escape.

The next day, on her way home from school--along the same, predictable path, of course--she is stopped by a strange man. Both unfamiliar and unusual. Almost his entire face is covered and his hair is grey and he slouches as if in apology for his height. He asks her if she believes in magic. 

She knows a creep when she sees one and runs in the opposite direction. She'll take the long way home.

The next few days she changes up her route going home because, yes, sometimes she's naïve but she's not completely oblivious. It still doesn't really help though, because this time its a trio of strangers--thankfully around her age--but still not great.

"Those idiots," the girl says, flicking her long blonde ponytail in fashionable irritation, "I can't believe they messed up this bad. What an awful first impression, she's already spooked."

One of the boys, dark hair and sleepy eyes, just shrugs and responds, "Well if she's really going to end up on their team, it's not like her second impression is going to be much better."

If they're talking about who she thinks she's talking about she's not exactly pleased with them either.

The other boy, reddish hair and round cheeks, looks her in the eye and gives a friendly smile. Despite the situation, something within Sakura relaxes a little. "Would you like to try out that cafe? Our treat," he says, and its not an entirely unwanted offer. She doesn't have too much work waiting for her at home and she deserves something nice.

"Okay," she says, and lets them pay for her anmitsu while they tell her about magic, the magical world, and how she fits into all of it.

---

Humans are not the only beings capable of magic.

---

(but it actually went like this)

Sakura is worried and overwhelmed and frustrated and she knows she shouldn't complain because she does honestly enjoy magic and the world its brought her into and she wouldn't dare go back to that ordinary, predictable, boring life.

But she wishes that her teammates weren't so abrasive and prickly, that her teacher were a little more engaged. It's been months already since she joined Naruto and Sasuke's team. She doesn't know why they're being so difficult when she hasn't even done anything wrong!

She's headed to the training grounds but in a wandering path, if she's honest. She's normally a punctual person, but Kakashi-sensei has never once been on time and she can just as easily not talk to her teammates here as she can at the training grounds.

The part of the city she's in isn't so urban as to have skyscrapers, but in this district the buildings are all at least several stories and practical, blocky metal and cement. The looming structure made of curving wood and stone looks more like a tree than anything else.

There is a girl standing in the shadow of the tree that isn’t. She meets Sakura's eyes, smiles, and waves.

Sakura has been studying the magical world. Knows about the dangers young magicians can face in a world that wants to eat them alive. Knows that nice exteriors don't necessarily mean kind hearts.

But she also knows, somehow, that if she walks away now she will never see this girl again.

"Hello," Sakura says, because there's no harm in being polite, "Can I help you?"

"Maybe," says the girl in the shadow of the tree that isn't. "Haruno Sakura, do you believe in destiny?"

---

Gelel: Light, Unity, Creation.

Jashin: Void, Suffering, Destruction.

Magic seeks balance.

Magic is better with three.

---

"If you could," the girl begins, a wistful sort of smile on her face, "tell them I said its not their fault. It was entirely on me. I overreached and had to face the consequences."

"What did you do?" Sakura asks before she can swallow down her curiosity

Shikako says, "Some lessons are learned the hard way..."

At first, Sakura thinks that's all she will say, a dismissive sort of answer, but then Shikako continues:

"...but perhaps not all of them. Hopefully you’ll learn from my mistakes," she says with a small bitter smile, gaze going beyond Sakura.

"I foresaw danger and thought I could prevent it,” Shikako says, almost a confession. “But the more magic I had, the more danger arose, until I found myself trying to make a deal with the Shinigami."

If any of the horror Sakura feels is showing on her face, Shikako doesn't let that deter her.

"Unsurprisingly, the Shinigami is very good at making deals and somewhat overworked." Shikako's smile is wider now, more real. "I asked him for the world where all of my friends and family lived. He said I should make it myself."

"So now I'm Death's apprentice," she shrugs, almost casual about it even though the very concept is giving Sakura a headache. "Shikabane-hime, the Lady Cosmos, the Space-Time Witch, whatever," she lists, rolling her eyes, impossibly blasé about her various titles.

"It's not so bad, I guess. But I do miss my friends and family."

Finally, something Sakura can wrap her brain around! "Do you want me to tell them that, too?"

Shikako blinks, almost surprised, before she tilts her head. "Maybe? I mostly meant that, well... I know in this timeline I’m just a stranger, but it's nice to see you again, Sakura. And just in case you had any doubts: you were always destined for greatness."

~

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~

A/N: If you couldn’t tell from this mess, it was supposed to be more xxxholic/CLAMP than Madoka Magica (which I haven’t actually watched) but from what little I know of the latter, I wouldn’t blame anyone for getting that sort of vibe. Don’t worry, it’s kinda a good ending. I mean, Shikako literally made a deal with multiple gods in order to make it so.

edit: I have come up with a title/tag for this

“meeting and incidents unraveled”

#jacksgreyson #anonymous #prompt response #wrting #fanfiction #could should actually fic #a softer ask box #dreaming of sunshine #naruto #xxxholic #sakura haruno #shikako nara #meeting and incidents unraveled

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Is It Really THAT Bad?

How many fucking times must I talk about this movie?

I feel like this movie doesn’t need an introduction. Everyone knows this film. Its reputation precedes it. It didn’t bomb and it’s not generally considered one of the worst films ever made (at least on the level of films like Robot Monster or The Cat in the Hat), but this movie is easily one of the most divisive films ever made. This film has generated enough arguments that, if we harnessed the energy of all the flame wars it has caused, we could probably power the entire world until the heat death of the universe.

With the impending release of Zach Snyder’s bloated redo of Justice League, I’ve decided to go back and ask myself of this film here… is it really that bad?

THE GOOD

Here comes the most uncontroversial opinion: the action scenes in this movie rock (or at least two of them do). The standouts are the titular showdown, which almost makes sitting through the rest of the movie worth it, and the epic warehouse fight Batman gets into, which is like something straight out of the Arkham games. It’s so good. And aside from that, a lot of the cinematography in the film is good. The film knows how to look good, though unfortunately it does end up being a lot of style with little substance.

On the subject of Batman, I think Ben Affleck is a great and inspired choice. I certainly think he’s worthy of standing alongside Batmans like Clooney and Keaton, easily embodying both the Dark Knight and Billionaire Playboy aspects fairly well, though the writing does not always handle him quite as well as it should (we’ll get to that soon enough). Henry Cavill, while still a rather dour Superman, is as good as ever as Superman, and Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman was a great choice here, especially since she didn’t have control so that she could insert anti-Arab racism, like some DCEU movies.

Perhaps one of the movies most impressive feats is how, in an uncharacteristic moment of brevity, it manages to condense the backstory of Batman into the prologue, getting it out of the way and not making us sit through yet another Batman origin film. This is literally the only thing the movie has over the MCU; where that franchise just has the character Spider-Man inexplicably in existence without even a hint of his origins, they just get Batman’s tragic backstory out of the way so we can see him beating the crap out of people. If more superhero movies want to take this route and just condense the backstory into an opening montage like this, I’d be down for it.

THE BAD

I really could just say “most of the movie” but that’s such a cop out. Let’s actually look at the problems. Let’s work our way up through the things from least problematic to most, shall we?

The best place to start is what Zach Snyder did to Jimmy Olsen.

Jimmy Olsen is made into a CIA spook who is brutally killed early on, and yes, that was Jimmy Olsen. Snyder put him in to shock audiences with his senseless murder, and also because he felt the character had no place in his series. Does making Watchmen just turn people into joyless husks who like to horribly bastardize iconic characters? Jimmy Olsen is ultimately a small microcosm of the film, but he is the sum total of everything wring with the early DCEU. He is bleak, soulless, and shows a critical lack of understanding about the comics and why people enjoy them.

Now let’s move on to the more exciting problem to discuss: the villains. I don’t even think it’s worth wasting much time discussing what’s wrong with KGBeast. While it is kind of interesting they’d think to use the guy at all, the fact he never dons the costume and dies by the end of the film is unfathomably lame for a character named KGBeast.

Now, onto the main antagonist, and the most infamous part of the movie: Lex Luthor.

Lex Luthor is horribly, horribly miscast. Jesse Eisenberg is a great actor for sure, and he’s effective in movies like Now You See Me, The Social Network, and the Zombieland films. But here he is being asked to play one of the most diabolical cunning geniuses in comic book history, and rather than play him as such, he plays him like a cartoonish twit. This Lex is utterly unrecognizable as Superman’s greatest foe. Does anyone think Lex Luthor would send a jar of piss to someone as a joke before he blows them up? That’s more something the Joker would do on an off day. Lex is not cunning, not intimidating, and not diabolical in the slightest, and yet there are moments where Eisenberg’s acting chops shine through and Lex, for a moment, is almost engaging. Luthor really suffers the way Doctor Doom tends to in film adaptations: the filmmaker clearly doesn’t get why people like the villain, and decide to do some weird, unique take that will only cause to alienate fans.

But perhaps the worst of them all is Doomsday. Doomsday has exactly one claim to fame, and that’s killing Superman, so as soon as he shows up if you have even a passing awareness of the character you know how the movie is going to end, which robs the film of tension for its last battle. The fact he also appears with little buildup and doesn’t have any characterization doesn’t help; Doomsday is just the Big Gray CGI Blob that superhero movies try and pass off as a final boss for the heroes to fight. This has worked precisely once, in Iron Man. The Incredible Hulk and Venom did not make it work, and this film is nowhere close to being in the same ballpark as Venom.

By and far the biggest problem, though, is the movie’s incredible length and its very existence in the franchise at this point in time. This is an epic superhero crossover in which two of the biggest comic book characters of all time fight and then team up… And it is the second movie in a franchise. While they do a good job of establishing Batman rather quickly, Wonder Woman comes out of nowhere. And then at the end, Superman ‘dies.’ We have had one single movie prior to this to make a connection to the guy, and yet here he is getting a temporary comic book death with no buildup whatsoever that we know is going to be reversed sooner than later because the movie telegraphs this to us.

Imagine if, instead of building up the character over the course of a decade and putting him in all sorts of different stories, the MCU went right from Iron Man to Endgame. You go from a simpler, character-driven piece to a massive crossover where a hero dies right away, and it doesn’t give anyone time to care. Tony Stark had multiple films worth of characterization under his belt before they threw him in a crossover, let alone killed him, but Snyder expects you to give a damn about a Superman who just started his career in the previous movie of a franchise.

And the ass-numbing length of the movie is no justification. Even before the director’s cut came out this film was a slog, and the director’s cut really does nothing to earn its existence. All it does is add more runtime to an already tedious and bloated film, leading to the same exact ending and fixing none of the overarching narrative problems of the thing. The problem with any director’s cut is that ultimately the movie is still going to be Dawn of Justice, it’s still going to lead to extremely rushed character decisions, and it’s still going to be a mess. You’d have to redo half of the film to make this into a worthwhile and coherent narrative that’s actually worthy of being an entry in a superhero franchise.

And to top it all off, the movie spends far too much time foreshadowing for its own good. People criticized The Mummy for shoehorning in way too many shared universe elements right off the bat, and if that movie was bad for it, so is this one. The cameos from all the members of the Justice League, while striking, could be excised from the plot with little to no impact, and the Knightmare sequence is just excessive and weird.

Is It Really THAT Bad?

The answer to this question has never been harder.

On the one hand, this film does have some merit. There is some good casting choices, good cinematography, good action… But then, on the other hand, the film is overly long, pretentious, has poor writing and dialogue, mishandles everyone aside from Superman, and is just incredibly unpleasant.

This film is in many ways the exact problem Christopher Nolan created with his Dark Knight trilogy. Nolan, by grounding the fanciful characters of comic books into a realistic setting, created a climate in which someone could suck any sort of joy or meaning out of comics. The success of his films meant that people would see dark, gritty realism as preferable to joyous, colorful escapism, and the negative effects of his films, however good you find them, are still felt today even as filmmakers are finally shaking off the grit. Dawn of Justice is the zenith of Nolan’s style of superhero film. There is nothing fun, joyful, or engaging to be found here; it is simply the characters you know and love forced into dark, miserable scenarios that ends in death and misery. Where’s the fun? Where’s the color? Where’s the wonder, the excitement, where is any of it? This film paints a bleak and miserable and hopeless picture of a world of superheroes. It really makes me think of this rather famous comic panel:

I absolutely hate this movie, but not because I think it’s bad. I hate it because it has enough good ideas where it should be the best thing ever, but it really isn’t. It’s a miserable slog of a film that does nothing to justify or earn its massive runtime whatsoever. It really does belong somewhere between 5 and 6 on IMDB, because I can almost see why people like it, but it just isn’t even remotely close to being how good its fan say it is. This is not a good superhero movie, and this is not how we should want superhero movies to be. There is a market for serious superhero fare of course, and there’s no reason that these films can’t engage with mature themes or anything, don’t get me wrong. But this is absolutely not the way to do it.

#Is it really that bad #IIRTB #Review #movie review #Batman v Superman #Dawn of Justice #Zach Snyder #Batman #Superman #DCEU

[emmy-writes-sometimes]

Crush

The reader is an actress and meets Sebastian at a wrap party. Fortunately, they both have something in common; they have a crush on each other. 

-

           You woke up to the sound of your roommate and co-star, Tom, walking into the apartment you were sharing. You’d spent most of the day moping because you’d finally wrapped all of your scenes for Far From Home, and you were missing it already. You didn’t have many scenes with him, but Jake was the definition of crazy and you could have used some of that. Tom was already your best friend, and your roommate, so you always saw enough of him. And tonight was maybe the last time you were going to see everyone together; it was the wrap party and you weren’t sure you could even fit into your dress because you were so bloated from eating ice cream all day.

           “What’s wrong with you?” Tom asked, looking you up and down. You shrugged, looking over at the pint of ice cream and bowl of popcorn you’d left sitting on the coffee table.

           “Just moping,” you responded.

           “Well, stop. Get ready for the party and we can pregame.” You scoffed. You didn’t usually drink copious amounts of alcohol, but maybe tonight was the night. “Please? I don’t want to be the drunk one.”

           “Whatever,” you responded as you sat up. You cleaned up your mess before taking a shower, doing your hair and makeup, and getting into your dress. It was a little slutty, but you had been feeling confident when you got it because you were training at that point. You looked damn good in it, too, and there was one person you had your eyes on. Sebastian Stan, the guy who played Bucky. You’d met him a few times, but only in passing. You’d never had a conversation with him, but from everything you’d heard he was sweet. You were probably sweet to him, just a kid, but if you said you didn’t like him, you’d be lying. You had a hard crush on him, and while Tom had figured it out and insisted you ask him out, you’d refused. You didn’t know him, first of all. There was no way he would go out with someone so young. That, and your best friend was Tom. He was all but a brother, and contrary to popular belief he could be intimidating to anyone who got you home too late at night.

           “Ow!” Tom marveled as you walked out. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Thank God, you look amazing.”

           “You’re supposed to tell me I’m always pretty,” you frowned.

           “You’re always pretty. Now come on, let’s go.” You grabbed your fully charged phone, your purse, and walked out of the apartment with Tom. He dragged you to two liquor stores before finding what he wanted, and then you Ubered over to Jake’s house. It was eccentric, to say the least. Like him. He was cool, though. You loved having him around.

           You drank the least out of both of them, worried about throwing up because of course Tom had to get tequila, and just sat back and laughed as they were their stupid selves. Finally the alarm on Jake’s phone sounded and another car picked you up to head over to the venue. You vaguely recognized some of the other actors, never really having met them since you weren’t in the other films. You finally saw Sebastian, standing with Anthony, and tried to come up with a reason to talk to him. You must have watched him for two or three minutes out of the corner of your eye before you saw him go up to the bar, probably to get more drinks.

           “Oh, can you get me one?” Tom asked when you muttered that you were going.

           “I’m going to shoot my shot, but maybe on the way back, big guy.” You pat his shoulder and walked toward the bar, ID in hand. You looked like a high schooler to anyone that knew you from movies, because you often played them. But with real makeup on you turned your actual age, and you could only hope that was going to serve you well tonight.

           “Oh, hey!” Sebastian said to you as you walked up to the bar, taking a seat at the counter. “You’re playing MJ, right?”

           “Yeah,” you responded with a smile. “I promise I’m old enough to drink.” He chuckled.

           “I believe you. I’m not so sure these guys will, though. I’m Sebastian, by the way. I played Bucky, with the hair.”

           “Didn’t recognize you without the fake arm and the face mask,” you said. “I, Tonya was a fucking masterpiece. By the way.”

           “That mustache never looked good on me, I don’t think. But it was such a good thing to work on, especially after doing all of these action movies. It was really fun.”

           “Oh, definitely. I’m doing an indie movie this summer and I can not wait to get a break from the action.” You continued a quick conversation until the bartender pulled you out of it, asking for your drink order. You went with a vodka cranberry, your usual, and noticed that Sebastian only got one beer for himself.

           “I’ll tell you what, I hate these things sometimes,” Sebastian said as he watched a room full of people that were only familiar to those who worked on the movie would know. “It’s like, thanks for inviting me, I know three people. Not that I’m not grateful, but…”

           “I know what you mean,” you interrupted. “I spent half the afternoon pre-gaming with Tom and Jake and I kind of just want to go to Waffle House and go to bed.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

           “That’s a thing? People in Atlanta actually, like, go to Waffle House?” You actually laughed out loud at that one.

           “Duh! I grew up in Florida and they’re definitely the best drunk food around. I was so sad when I moved to New York and couldn’t get any.” 

           Long story short, you and Sebastian talked most of the night. You even did shots together when Robert offered to pay for one for everyone. You spoke to Tom for a minute as he was getting another drink, but he saw you with Sebastian and excused himself back to where he was talking with Jacob and Harrison.

           “I thought they’d have more food,” Sebastian said quietly after a second of silence. “I’m half drunk and starving. This might be weird to ask, but do you want to go to Waffle House?” In ten minutes you’d both left the party and were on the way to get the best drunk food there could possibly be. You sat down in a corner booth that you and Tom often sat in on nights when you were just too excited to film the next day and couldn’t sleep.

           “I have to confess something,” Sebastian said as he was destroying a plate of hash browns a few minutes later. You looked up at him, stopping pouring the syrup all over your waffle. “I thought you were intimidating. Until I talked to you.”

           “That’s what everyone says! I don’t understand why because I literally look like a child.” He laughed.

           “No, you’re gorgeous. You just look like you could kill someone if they look at you the wrong way. And I respect that. You’re cool.”

           “Then I have something to confess.” Maybe it was the vodka and the tequila making decisions for you, but you were going to shoot your shot. If it ended up that he thought it was dumb, you could just turn it into a joke and take a bite of your waffle.

           “What might that be?” He wiped his hands on a napkin and waited. You looked away for a second, seeing a text on your phone from Tom asking where the hell you were.

           “I kind of have, like, a massive crush on you. It’s literally the dumbest thing ever, I’m twelve.” You drank a sip of water, waiting for an answer. Instead you got a grin from Sebastian. Those stupid, perfect lips were turned into a smile and his face was slightly flushed because he was still a little buzzed and he looked absolutely adorable.

           “It’s not dumb. I think I might have a crush on you, too. This doesn’t count as a first date, though, does it?”

           “It’s Waffle House, it’s basically a five star restaurant.” He sat back on the bench, thinking about something, and then responded. “Are you sure you want someone who can barely drink legally, though?”

           “You’re cool, that’s all I care about. You’re pretty and funny and I have a massive crush on you.” He turned your own words against you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

           “Nothing,” you responded.

           “Then, if that’s okay with you, I’d like to put this crush to the test and take you out.”

           “I’d like that.” You looked down at your food and continued eating, glad that you’d finally told him you liked him. You couldn’t have imagined your night ending that way, but it did. Once Sebastian begged you to let him pay for the food he had sobered up enough to go back to the venue and get his car.

           “I can get an Uber, you really don’t have to drive all the way across town.”

           “I want to,” he replied with a smile on his face. So you got in and he drove you home. You groaned at the sight of a light still on in the apartment, knowing that Tom was about to grill you about where you’d been and why you’d abandoned him. “I’ll walk you up. It’s dark.”

           “Thanks.” He opened your door for you and let you lead him down to the apartment, where you stopped at the lobby. “I literally don’t even have your phone number.”

           “Oh, you’re right, hold on.” In a minute he’d Airdropped you his phone number and sent you a text just to make sure it went through. “I’ll text you. God, that sounds so lame. Is that what kids these days say?”

           “Yeah, pretty much. Thanks for walking me back up. Drive safe.”

           “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You were in absolute heaven when you turned around and walked into the lobby of the apartment, and just to make sure he was okay you watched him walk back to his car. He drove away a minute later and you turned to go to the elevator.

           “Where have you been?” Tom asked loudly, as soon as you walked into the apartment. “I was freaking out! Your location just said you were at Waffle House, but you didn’t respond, so I thought your phone got stolen or you died or…” He was definitely still half-drunk, you decided, when he stumbled over his words and his voice broke.

           “I was with Sebastian,” you explained. Tom smiled.

           “So you told him about…”

           “Yep. I told him I have a crush on him and he said the same thing. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

           “That’s my girl!” Tom high-fived you and giggled his way through the rest of the night. As you turned to your phone, you saw it light up with a text from Sebastian.

           Pick you up tomorrow at 7??

           Definitely.

A/N: I loved writing this one so I hope you like it too!!! A date with Seb would be 🥺🥺

#sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff

[frankpanioncube]

Costco Adventures

Somehow, @loganthrives and I got onto the idea that it’d be hilarious to see demons in a costco. And I wrote it. I used @loganthrives and @wowanothergotdamnedartist ‘s oc’s with my own. And I hope it’ll be funny

Lord Diavolo had issued a decree - a human needed human supplies, then it was necessary to go to the human world for such things

“We need to get lots of stuff in a bit of a hurry. We need to make sure they have bathroom things and all sorts of food that’s safe for humans. How do we do that? And quickly?”

“We use Costco.”Logan suggested. “There are plenty of them all over the world.”

“Oh. Good point” Kotomi nodded. “You know, I have to say, living here I almost forgot about all our human stuff. It just seems second nature to use Akuzon now.”

“You know, I know what you mean.”

Logan nodded at her fellow human by way of a reply.

“This is excellent.” Solomon said and that should have been the warning this whole thing was going to go off the rails extremely quickly. 

“Costco it is!”

And that should have been the end of it, but this was the seven Demon brothers and also...Diavolo. Plus two angels and three humans. Honestly no one was sure where they were. Could have been London, could have been Bangledesh. Could have been Toronto.

(It was actually Chicago)

“Oh look. There’s hotdogs and pizza and blue drink. What does blue drink taste like?”

It took a moment for the humans to register Diavolo was addressing them. “It’s usually blue raspberry.”

“How exciting! And I do believe I would like to try this bubblegum stuff. Is this what pink tastes like? Ah, Lucifer, you must try this!”

“Of course, Lord Diavolo.”

“And this is...raspberry but...blue?”

“Yes. It’s very common by modern standards.”

If the prince of hell wasn’t going to try to figure it out no one else had any options.

“Maybe I could ask Heavenly Father.”

“And let’s not do that, Angel.”

Winter shrugged at Satan but left the issue alone.

“It’s wonderful.”

It was almost normal by Diavolo’s standards. No one (wisely) asked where Diavolo got a blue raspberry ice pop out of the clear blue.

“Wonderful.” Beel and Winter had hit the food stand already and Asmo had disappeared down some aisle that had health and beauty products, leaving Mammon, Lucifer, Belphegor and Satan to turn to their humans for any actual shopping. Levi had seen the TV’s not ten seconds after walking in and run.

“How are we supposed to get things from the top shelves.” Belphegor complained.

“Oh how easy. Did you forget your own twin has wings? And so do some of us. Lucifer fly up there.”

“Oh hell yes. Any day Lucifer looks like an idiot please and thank you.” 

“Lord Diavolo there is toilet paper on the ground here.”

“Get the one at the top. It’s more fresh.”

No one had the heart to tell Diavolo toilet paper didn’t have a shelf life. Or maybe, just because it was the demon prince’s shenanigans. Either one made sense.

“Oh this is the best day ever.” The wings had been all out of balance since Lucifer fell and with all members of the Lucifer Sucks club present this was like Christmas.

As it turned out, the party was down by a bunch which made Solomon’s arrival at the cart with boxes extremely conspicuous.

“Asmo asked me to get them.”

Lucifer shook his head. “I very much doubt my brother asked you to get...24 packs of chicken salsa taquitos. I might believe Beel but this is your worst lie ever.”

They were in the cart. The now by MUCH put upon Avatar of Pride shook his head, but Diavolo stopped his hand. “Oh but humans like them! That is a human!”

And the group they were supposed to be buying for had gotten cut by a third.

“Where is Logan? And Belphegor and...anyone who didn’t stay at the food court.”

***

“Come with me!” “Belphegor had whispered. 

Logan was a tougher human than most but Belphegor usually didn’t do her wrong and they found themselves being lead away from Diavolo and the toilet paper and into a large display in the centre of the store.

“There’s a bed right here. Come on, let’s try it out.” 

Logan had always prided themselves on being at least a bit more willful than that but apparently there was no stopping Belphegor when he wanted to cuddle. They got into the bed - it was….a bed, they guessed. Nothing to write home about and honestly they were messing up a display. They’d done their dues in retail before being asked to the Devildom - maybe not a Costco but this had to be a retail worker faux pas.

“Okay. We’ve tried it out and…”

Logan wasn’t sure if it was some trick of the Avatar of sloth or whether this bed was comfy or whether Belphegor was the comfortable one if he was hugging you, But allri---

Kevin drove a fork lift. That was his job. He rotated stock. He had a rapport that was decent with his coworkers. Every so often Amran the sample dude would give him whatever the store was hocking if he was in the vicinity. So how in the hell there was what seemed to be two people cuddled up in the display bed?

He...decided not to disturb them.

Although...when next he drove his forklift around after his break...they were on a porch swing.

Just how? And HOW did that man have a tail. Maybe he was one of those furries...that was a thing. Well...Kevin wasn’t a judge. He got back on his forklift.

---

“Okay sho...Sho I don’t half to pay for these?”

“The idea is, SIR….” and the sales lady said that with a very implied suggestion that ‘keeping her job’ was the only reason the individual before her ought to receive any sort of title  “That you pay for them if you like them. They’re samples.”

“But they’re FREE samples, right?”

The poor human was definitely not paid enough to be dealing with this level of shit. “Would you please buy a box? Or maybe ten? ”

“Oh...Oh hell yeah. Hell yeah my brother will. Lemme take these and I’ll add them to the cart. But thanks for lunch! Pretty good food ya humans got here.”

“Thank you? Uh...human?”

“Don’t worry about--”

“I’m so sorry. It’s apparently Mammon’s first time being around people. We’ll buy your stuff...too.”

Kotomi sighed and grabbed almost her fifth box from the random samples. “Sometimes I think you should be the Avatar of Gluttony…” she muttered.

“Well if they ain’t nailed down they’re free. And I ain’t gonna pass up a free lunch ya know.”

Lucifer and Diavolo were looking at some toothpaste when the human and the avatar of greed caught up. Kotomi dumped ten boxes of all the free sample products Mammon had ate across the store.

“Are these things you need?”

“Yes. They are things we need because Mammon decided to make a meal of the samples.”

Lucifer grit his teeth. 

Diavolo nodded peaceably. “Ah, well we can’t have enough. I had never thought chimera would be poisonous to humans but happy accident we were able to help. These...pizza bagels are evidently more to human taste being they’re sold in a human shop.”

Wherever Logan and Soloman were right now, there would be a human plot to get Lucifer to eat a pizza bagel. It would probably be hilarious.

___

It was predictable enough that Beel gravitated towards any place that served food just as Levi was likely looking at the wall of televisions (he was) . It was also predictable that Winter accompanied the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel I’m really full. I don’t think...Why don’t you finish this?”

“Oh wonderful!” 

The angel breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m just going to rest my head here. You keep eating.”

“I can’t believe this food is so cheap!”

“I can’t believe I ate five hotdogs.”

“I’m proud of you.” Beel said around a mouthful. “I worry about you.”

Winter managed a smile. “You know you don’t need to. I’m just fine. And most of us don’t need to eat as much as you do. But it’s sweet you worry.”

And with that the angel slipped into a food coma. 

“Oh! Lucifer...you guys are back. Ah….you think you could settle up?”

“Beel...this board says the pizza and hotdogs are $1 each. How the hell did you rack up…$89.95?”

“Is that angel okay?“ Diavolo whispered

“She’s an angel - she’ll just be groggy and bloated.”

Winter managed a slight noise that was best translated as ‘Mrr’ before cuddling into Beel’s arms.

“Ah are we checking out? The distraction from the over full Angel (who seemed to be well...angel like gorgeous despite being slumped over Beel’s shoulders) was a shock to all. 

“Satan and Levi.” 

Lucifer’s joy at not having to track down anyone else was a bit short lived when he saw what Satan was carrying.

“What is that?” By this point the Avatar of Pride was just resigned.

“An HD TV with 3D Capabilities.” 

“And a PS5.”

“Is that a thing now?” Kotomi asked.

“Oh, actually yes.” That was Soloman. “iS that the 250 gig one?”

“Yes indeed!” the otaku chirped. “And I’ll even put it in the common room.”

“...goody.” 

“What was that, Lucifer?”

“I said, where are Logan and Belphegor? Also did anyone keep tabs on Asmo? I…”

“Uh hello? Hi...hi there hello?” A man in a Costco uniform was running across the parking lot. “

“Um...okay this is going to sound super weird but are you people...um...are you with the um...the two people in the bed in Asle 19?”

“Probably.” Diavolo spoke up.

“Okay one of them has a cow tail and the other is a white chick with some---”

“Yes. Yes they’re with us. Can we get them back?”

“Please.” Kevin said, who literally had never had a weirder day. “Do you...do you maybe want to take the guy in Aisle 5 too? He just checked out with about five boxes of lotion and facial masks and just about everything from the cosmetic section...he’s a little dude but wow you all….I mean….wow.”

“Thank you for the compliment kind human! We all loved your store and we got plenty of stuff for the humans.”

It didn’t take too long for the weird little party to leave the Costco with the strangest break room conversation.

Kevin the forklift guy apparently went to mandatory counselling because he swore he saw a door open into hell and swallow a whole bunch of weird customers. 

#obey me #frank writes #diavolo #beelzebub #lucifer #mammon #levi #asmo #satan #belphegor

[theplaguecourier]

MARCH 21ST, 2042

i’ve been thinking about what elle said all day. i delivered a package of dry fruit from a dad to his son - the dad actually asked me my name, asked me how i was, thanked me - and for the duration of the trip, all i could think of was hope. am i hopeless? the first thought that crossed my mind when elle told me there was a cure was that she was too naive. i couldn’t even let myself believe for one second that maybe it was true. there still hasn’t been any news on doc wendell’s mission, by the way. in his video last night, he didn’t seem particularly excited or unfocused, though i don’t know what an “excited” doc wendell would look like. if elle is right - and i still can’t really make myself believe she is - they won’t ask any of us to help. the 187 block of cure deliveries will be handled by the real good guys, the strong and smart folks upstairs in the regular dorms, the ones who don’t show up in our community chat, who have never seen us in their lives, who still made commissions during the 207 outbreak. doc wendell’s hand-selected team of cure delivery experts is not going to be headed up by a bunch of poor people in basements who live on Lemon Drink. i guess that’s a hopeless thought. i think elle is right about me, which i hate admitting, mostly because i hate thinking that i can’t hope but also a little bit because i hate giving her so much free reign over my thoughts. just thinking about her, thinking about the fact that she thinks i’m hopeless and is still reaching out and trying so hard to be a part of my life again, like a lifeboat bumping up against a bloated, floating corpse, somehow it makes me love her all over again. i can’t keep letting that happen. that thought sends me down a whole separate line of terrible, broken reasoning. i can’t let myself fall in love, because love from down here is some twisted form of hope, hope that someday you will be able to stand outside next to the one you love, and if i let myself hope, then i’ll let myself fall in love, and if i let myself fall in love, then i’ll be letting myself hope, so i can’t love because i don’t want to hope and i can’t hope because i don’t want to love, and honestly now that i’m writing it out i can’t even find a logical line to follow in that terrible mess, but the fact is that when i think about elle, and how she still has some kind of hope for me even though she can’t see any hope in me, i fall in love with her and that fully and truly terrifies me. like i said, it kind of makes me lose my mind. i am earnestly and honestly scared that if i love elle, she will love me back, and i will let myself be happy down here, and that will be the moment i let my guard down, and that will be the moment somebody dies, or loses their job and then dies, or loses their job and doesn’t die but doesn’t have anywhere else to return to, and is forced to spend the rest of their life wandering a plague-ridden world, like an endless commission with no cores on the other side. maybe that’s my problem. if i let myself hope, i set myself up to be crushed. if i stay cautiously miserable, nothing can disappoint me. if i keep not loving elle, then when i lose my job and i am forced to wander the world alone, i won’t lose a single thing. so i’m hopeless.

[redeyedryu]

Cross Dimensional Problems

Chapter 4 - The Outcodes | [Ao3] | 1 | « | x |  » | 

Here’s more of this hot mess that I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing with! 8′D

Summary: Some skeletons like to hold hands.

Some like to make you fear for your life.

Others yet like to ask all the questions.

So. This is awkward.

You're currently sat at the head of the main dining table in the dining room just off to the side of the kitchen. Sans, Papyrus, and his Underswap doppelgänger are stood beside and behind you, Papyrus resting a reassuring hand upon your shoulder.

Stars, have you mentioned how much you love this skeleton yet? Because holy hell is he burning a hole through your heart.

Seated around the table are several other skeletons. A few more than you were expecting, really; some you weren't expecting to see at all. Like the outcode skeletons Ink and Error.

You’d nearly choked at seeing those two. They're not often included in these kind of scenarios, after all. You have to wonder what that means and how it might affect you, if at all. You, a creator; Ink, the protector of AUs; Error, the destroyer of AUs. However, just like everything else that has transpired in the last hour or so, you shove the thought away, shelving it for later (and what you mean by this is actually never, if you can help it).

Those two aside there are the typical bunch—the “classics” in this kind of story: Underswap, Underfell (and ho boi, those two don't look like they've eased up at all), and Swapfell. You're an odd mix of elated and apprehensive at the inclusion of the Horrortale brothers, who are sat at the head opposite you. Horrortale Sans is doing his creepy smiley thing, phalanges tapping out a dull rhythm as he just stares at you. His brother, seated comfortably beside him (because this table is huge—it needs to fit twelve, after all) is all smiles. And hey, are those braces? You hope that means they're being treated well. A lot of stories wind up giving that particular pair of brothers hell.

You miss the way Horrortale Sans’s bloated red eye-light narrows at your inspection of his brother, your attention abruptly being drawn back to Papyrus as he squeezes the meat of your shoulder. He clears his non-existent throat and calls out to the room:

“HELLO, EVERYONE! BEFORE WE ‘DIG IN’, WE HAVE EXCITING NEWS WE WOULD LIKE TO SHARE!”

 Papyrus pauses to look down at you and the way he smiles so reassuringly—his sockets closing as he smiles so incredibly wide—sets something tingling in your chest, soft and warm and fuzzy. Damn skeleton is too precious for his own good. Stop being so damn adorable, Papyrus!

“I AM SURE YOU ARE ALL WONDERING AS TO WHY THERE IS A STRANGE, NEW HUMAN SEATED WITH US.”

Op. Moment ruined.

Your cheeks heat up and your ears burn. Really, Papyrus? Is that the best descriptor you can come up with? “Strange”? Thanks, mister, way to make a woman feel special.

The room goes silent, save for the idle drumming of Horrortale Sans’s fingers. Nevertheless, Papyrus continues.

“PLEASE WELCOME THE NEWEST ADDITION TO OUR EVER-GROWING HOUSEHOLD…” and here he flounders for a moment, as if he’s forgotten something. Or perhaps is waiting? He’s looking at you expectantly for some reason…? Oh! Right! You have yet to give them your name, haven't you? …or have you? You can't remember.

You turn your attention back to the table at large, eyes drifting from one skeleton to the next. And if you keep focusing back on Ink and Error well… that’s just a coincidence. They are seated just to the left of you…

You give a brief introduction, a simple, “Heya,” along with your name and hope that’ll be that, that you can all just move on and not ask questions and just eat the heavenly smelling pasta dish set before you. The salad isn't looking half bad, either. But of course things can't be that easy; life can't be that nice.

It's Ink that speaks up, sockets wide and curious. There’s a yellow star in his left eye socket and a blue rectangle in his right. He’s leaning forward in his seat, arms crossed on the table.

“Oh? What kind of AU are you from,” he asks and you think you might have broken out into a cold sweat. Your shoulders are tense again, that's for sure.

Please stop talking to me…  

“I haven't been to very many of the ‘monsters are humans’ ones,” he continues on, oblivious to your unease. “Are you a Sans? Or a Papyrus?”

Oh! Yes! Let’s go with that! Just… just let him come up with his own assumptions! That'll keep things from being too… strange (to borrow Papyrus’s word choice) between you and the outcodes.

But. Well. We did just mention how nothing could be easy. So when Papyrus announces, loud enough for absolutely everyone to hear, “WHY INK, SHE ISN’T EITHER!” you start to shrink down into your seat with a groan.

Papyrus, for the love of all that is sacred and holy in this world, please stop talking!!

He doesn't, of course, just keeps on digging your grave deeper and deeper. Is it too late to rescind your love and praise for this skeleton?

“IN FACT, SHE HAS INFORMED US THAT NOT ONLY IS SHE NOT FROM THIS UNIVERSE, SHE ISN'T FROM ANY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE OR TIMELINE AT ALL!”

You don't miss the way Ink and Error respond to that. Ink’s brows furrow and as he blinks, a yellow question mark and orange exclamation point light up his sockets. His mouth parts in what you think is shocked confusion, as if he’s trying to puzzle out what, exactly, Papyrus’s words mean.

Error, meanwhile, who had previously been so nonchalant, so disinterested and disengaged from the conversation, jolts, and his jetblack skull tilts ever so slightly in your direction. Those off-color pips of light in his sockets drag so very slowly, so very deliberately towards you. If you weren't sweating before, you sure as hell are now. At least it doesn’t glow like a skeleton’s.

Oh, how the tables have tabled.

Maybe you really shouldn’t have been so blasé about your origins, earlier.

Unaware of your inner turmoil, Papyrus just continues on. “APPARENTLY SHE IS FROM A REALITY IN WHICH WE DO NOT EXIST AS ANYTHING MORE THAN FICTION!” He proudly proclaims, and if he wasn't still holding your shoulder, you would have slipped down your chair and out under the table in a mad dash to get away from… whatever you're sure is about to go down. Maybe you can will yourself into a puddle of regret if you try hard enough.

You hear a haughty HMPH! and a less than pleased tch from down the table that only slightly distracts you from planning your escape. Without looking, you can't say for sure who it is, but you'd put money down on it being the Underfell brothers. They were the saltiest skeletons you had met thus far, after all. But you're not exactly in the mood to face them or press your luck. No, you’d much rather be anywhere than here right now, thank you.

Unfortunately, before you can put any half-baked plans into action, Error speaks up. An unnamed, primal fear tingles along your spine at his voice. Like all other Sans his voice is low, deep, and has a bit of a rumble to it, though there is some kind of static—a bit of a disjointed hitch—to it; it’s almost like listening to a radio skipping through frequencies. “T͘͢h̨͢ą-t̸h̸a̷ţ ̷so-o̷?͝” he says, and it doesn’t come out as a question. That unrestrained, primal fear races through your veins, down to your fingers and toes. You tense in your seat and you’re sure Papyrus, whose hand is still laid upon your shoulder, can feel how on edge you are. You can’t help thinking Error’s words came out like an accusation.

You don’t respond, merely purse your lips and clench your jaw. There’s a large opening into another room off to the right. It’s only a few feet away from where you’re sat. Error would have to vault the table to get at you and there would likely be at least a few skeletons that would try to stop him. There’s gotta be a door some-

Oh.

What?

Someone’s… someone’s holding your hand??

Once again you are distracted from planning your salvation, this time by Ink. His eye sockets are blown wide and the lights in them are burning bright, one a neon green triangle and the other a yellow swirl. He’s grinning wide and he’s holding onto you so tight.

“You’re a Creator?” he breathes and oof. No. Don’t say it, Ink, don’t say it out loud. You pointedly don’t look at Error, too busy trying to tamp down the sudden rising panic in your gut. Or maybe that’s acid? You’re not going to throw up, are you? Crap. You don’t want to deal with this right now. You can’t deal with this. Why can’t he just let you ignore the reality of the situation?

You tell yourself not to say anything, try to pull your hand back, but his grip is so strong, he won’t let go, why won’t he let go?

Against your wishes, you eke out a strained, nearly squeaked, “Uhm?”

Apparently that’s as good an admission as any for Ink because he just starts laughing. It’s a deep, full bodied chuckle.

“Isn’t that great, Error? She’s a Creator! ”

Oh god. No, please stop. He’s signing your death warrant right now, isn't he? Damn outcode skeleton! You’re not fooled by his stupid, adorable, inkbloted smiling face. You know his true colors.

“T͘-tch.̨ ̧Ju-j͡us̢t a̵ ̡di͟r̢t͏-͟dįr͜ty̶ ͜h̛ac͢k̷e͞r-͝er.” Error grumbles.

You chance a glance at him—just a quick, split-second peek—and for a moment you just.

Blank.

He’s not looking at you.

He’s back to his earlier disinterested nonchalance. You let out a relieved sigh, a veritable weight lifting from your chest. He doesn’t care about you. Holy shit you don’t think you could be any more relieved right now. You had honestly thought you were dead for a moment there. Guess you were over-reacting? You are good at doing that.

Another sigh escapes as you just bask in the fact Error’s not paying you any further mind, that he’s just brushed you off.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, slouching into your seat. And then jolt because, “I-I mean no! No, I’m not! I'm not a ‘hacker’! I mean yes I guess you could say I'm a creator in the very loosest of senses…” Oh god, why are you talking? Stop talking, didn’t you tell yourself not to talk to these two? You're not helping yourself—you don’t need to explain anything!

But you just. Keep. Talking.

“I’ve never finished any of the AUs I began-” and here, for the briefest of moments, you think you feel Ink’s grip on your hand tighten ever so uncomfortably but decide to ignore it, “-I just. Just draw things… every now and again. Sometimes I um. Sometimes I… write… stuff.” You avoid looking at any of the skeletons, your free hand clenching into a fist in your lap. You hope they’ll leave it at that because how do you tell a room full of grown ass men that you spend a significant amount of your free time writing wish fulfillment fantasies about them? Simple answer: you don’t.

You hear a chuckle from down the table and can't keep yourself from looking. Swapfell Sans is making a poor attempt at stifling his laughter. He catches your gaze and lifts a socket in a knowing glance. Dear lord, he can't read your mind, can he? He’s not a telepath …right?

You’re obviously emoting something because he just grins this devious, delicious smirk before he lifts his wine glass to his serrated maw and takes a sip, all the while never breaking your gaze.

He fucking knows, doesn't he?

But there’s no way. He’s totally just fucking with you, trying to get a rise out of you!

Yeah! Well! You’ll see about that!!

You don't hear the soft snort he lets loose at the heated pout you shoot him.

The Fell skeleton variant sets down his glass and clears his throat, drawing the room’s attention to him. And thank the stars above and below because you’re sure you've met your lifetime quota of being the center of attention. Now if only Papyrus and Ink would unhand you…

“YES, YES, THIS IS ALL WELL AND INTERESTING,” Swapfell Sans’s voice cuts into the room, “BUT INTERROGATING THE HUMAN CAN WAIT UNTIL LATER, DON’T YOU THINK? IF THERE ARE ANY OBJECTIONS TO HER STAYING HERE, I SUGGEST YOU LOT HURRY IT UP. I DID NOT SLAVE AWAY IN THE KITCHEN FOR DINNER TO GO COLD.”

No one says anything initially and that's fine. Now that you're not actively fearing for your life, your hunger is reasserting itself. You haven’t even had your first helping and you’re already wondering if it would it be rude to ask for seconds because you're honestly ravenous. Guess stress makes you hungry.

Papyrus finally lets go of your shoulder (that’s one skeleton down) to take a seat beside you as his brother shuffles into a chair beside him, effectively sandwiching the tall skeleton between the two of you. Swap Papyrus goes to take the seat beside his brother, across the table from Ink and Error.

“WELL?” Swapfell Sans prompts, his tone impatient. If he had been standing, you're sure he would have been tapping an impatient boot.

There’s a hum to your right.

You look over to see Underswap Sans fidgeting in his seat, fiddling with a corner of his trademark baby blue bandanna.

“OUT WITH IT ALREADY,” Swapfell Sans grumbles.

“WELL.” Underswap Sans glances at you but quickly looks elsewhere when your eyes meet. “THE HUMAN INTRODUCED HERSELF, SHOULD WE NOT RECIPROCATE?”

Aw, precious, considerate bean.

Swapfell Sans seems to consider this a moment before he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the back of his chair. “IS IT NECESSARY TO INTRODUCE OURSELVES TO SOMEONE THAT APPARENTLY ALREADY KNOWS US?” He gives you a challenging look. “YOU ARE FAMILIAR WITH EVERYONE SEATED HERE, ARE YOU NOT?”

You feel Ink squeeze your hand and have to consciously resist yanking it free of his grasp. Seriously, why is he still clinging to you like the world’s most stubborn booger? And what’s with Swapfell Sans? What the hell, man, wasn’t he wanting to end this game of 20 questions? Is he still questioning the validity of your situation? Asshole. Stupid, hot, asshole.

“Uh… yeah? Y’all’re pretty much the standard go-to AUs.”

“ALL OF US?” You hear Underswap Sans gasp.

“Yeeees…?” Why did that come out as a question? “I mentioned it a bit to Classic Sans and your brother, but Underswap—that’s the name of your AU—and Underfell (that’s the name of the AU the salty pair over by the other end of the table belong to) are probably the top two most popular AUs. Swapfell-” and here you point to the respective skeletons, “and Horrortale-” you choose to ignore the way Horrortale Sans’s crimson eyelight is narrowed as he glares at you, his grin tight and dangerous, “are pretty popular, too. Outertale used to be pretty big, same with Mafiatale—or Mobtale, either or. They might still be? I don’t exactly peruse the fandom like some people do. Don’t have the attention span or energy for it.”

Swap Sans is leaning forward and huh. His eye lights really do turn into stars. Cute. “WHAT ABOUT THOSE TWO?” he questions, nodding to Ink and Error. “WHAT’RE THEIR AUS LIKE? ANY TIME WE TRY TO ASK ABOUT IT THEY NEVER GIVE US A STRAIGHT ANSWER.”

A chill races up your spine.

Oh boy. Treading back into dangerous waters, are we?

You slowly, s l o w l y turn your attention back to the outcodes. Ink is smiling softly at you and dammit , you can’t read this fucker. Error, meanwhile, is looking at you out of the corner of his sockets. He smirks when he catches your gaze, clearly just daring you to say something. Your eyes drift from his mis-matched eyelights to the cobalt blue magic leaking from his sockets and down his zygomatic bones. If you think about it, he’s technically two AUs, isn’t he? …one long, drawn out AU? And what about Fatal_Error?

…

…

…

All you manage is an ever so eloquent, “Uhm.”

Oh man. Forget the masseuse, you’re going to need an entire day-long visit to the spa to ease all this tension from your body.

You settle for a stumbling non-answer of, “It’s uh… Yeah their AUs are… a thing.”

Swap Sans frowns at you, clearly unsatisfied. “AW, C’MON!” he pouts, “NOT YOU TOO, HUMAN!”

“Sorry, Blue,” you apologize, laughing nervously. Sure, you may know a bit about these skeletons and their AUs but you’re getting the feeling you might want to be a bit more tight-lipped about your knowledge than you have been. Especially if you like living. Which you do. Most days.

You go to rub at the back of your neck, a nervous tick you’ve never quite been able to overcome, only to be reminded that Ink’s still holding your hand. You purse your lips and give the skeleton a rather heated look because you’re starting to get real tired of this. His grin just stretches.

What the fuck.

You stare at him and you’re pretty sure you’re full on ugly-scowling but at this point you don’t care. You would very much like your hand back, thank you! The bastard has other ideas, however, as he just holds your gaze, his sockets holding a rather gleeful tint.

You reiterate: What the fuck.

Is this guy trippin’ on his paints or something?

He blinks and his eyelights shift to a rouge square and a soft red pentagon. You yank your hand one more time and he blinks again, his eyelights shifting to a loose mossy green shape and a bright yellow diamond. With that yank finally, finally Ink releases your hand. You’re quick to snatch it away and if you scoot a little closer to Papyrus… well. Who can blame you?

You gingerly rub your relinquished hand under the table and look to Swap Sans, only to startle at the absolute starstruck look he’s giving you.

“Uh…?”

He nearly vaults himself onto the table. His brother’s steadying hand upon his shoulder is likely the only thing that kept him from doing just that.

“YOU EVEN KNOW MY NICKNAME, HUMAN?!”

“Uhm…” You lean back into your chair, trying to hide behind Papyrus and Sans. If he can’t see you, he’ll forget you’re there, right?

“DO THE OTHERS!!” Blue demands as he grabs his brother’s arm. “DO PAPY!!” You bite your lower lip in a strained effort to contain a completely inappropriate laugh. You definitely did not just interpret that in a completely different way than the excitable skeleton meant, nope. Your mind doesn’t live in the gutter, not at all.

…

…

…

Yup.

…

…

…

Man, so much for getting to the food before it goes cold.

You shoot a pointed glance to Swapfell Sans and he just fucking. Smirks at you. What is with these skeletons and their damn stupid grins? You’re starting to relate to Flowey’s “smiley trashbag” insult—smiley trashbags, the lot of ‘em!

You let loose a heavy, defeated sigh and say, “I’ll go over the nicknames I know but like I was telling some of y’all earlier, there’re so many different interpretations that it’s kind of hit or miss.”

Blue isn’t deterred in the slightest and the yet still challenging look Swapfell Sans is giving you seals it. Guess you’ve got no choice but to play along. Joy.

It’s nearly another ten minutes before you’re finally able to actually eat.

The food, to absolutely no one’s surprise, is cold.

At least now you can stop referring to everyone by their AU titles in your head.

-------- End Note : Nicknames   --------

Classics: Sans (Classic), Papyrus (Paps)

Underswap: Blue (Sans), Stretch (Papyrus)

Underfell: Red (Sans), Edge/Boss (Papyrus)

Swapfell: Black (Sans), Rus (Papyrus)

Horrortale: Serif (Sans), Hickory (Papyrus)

#Red Drabbles #Undertale Fanfiction #Reader Insert #Cross Dimensional Problems #Reverse Harem #Let's just get this outta the way so i can finally get to the shitposty side of this fic #i have. SO MANY THINGS WRITTEN #so many #and they're pretty much all dumb #But also what's up with Ink? #hmmm.......

[cassie-and-ren]

Monsta x reaction thinking you're pregnant

Shownu

Shownu was a softie

He was in bed too

That's not to say he couldn't be rough

Because he could

So of course the first few times some mistakes were made

You both knew what those mistakes were

You knew nothing was wrong but Shownu had no clue

So when you got really sick one day and threw up in front of him

He assumed that mistake grew

He wasn't convinced at first

But when he overheard you talking about baby with someone on the phone

He was sure of it

When you got better and hung out with him he pretty much did everything for you

Got anything you asked for

He even told you he'd provide for you two

That's when you questioned him

He said he knew about the baby

“I'll be here for you and the baby you don't have to hide it anymore.”

So of course you were beyond lost

He told you he overheard you talking about a baby as well as being sick

You told him you caught the stomach flu and your mom had called about your brother who was having a baby

Shownu was embarrassed to say the least

You told him you were happy at how willing he was to raise a child with you

And how great of a husband he'd be

But that'd be saved for later

Wonho

After you guys had sex the first time

It wasn’t like it just never happened

No, it happened a lot

When he was frustrated

When you were

And even just randomly

Sex was going to happen with Wonho

So this one night

He stayed over

In the middle of the night he went to use the bathroom

And ran into your trash can

He found a pregnancy test

Actually he found two

One positive

The other negative

He had no clue which one was true but he knew one thing

He could be a father

After that night Wonho thought hard about the situation

He loved you

And having his baby was something he did want

He figured you were worried about that, and that's why you hadn't told him yet

So he decided to beat you to it

You met up with Wonho when he called you to meet him

“(Y/N), I love you and even if your scared about having a baby you shouldn't be!”

Wonho proposed to you

With a ring and everything

“Because I’ll always be with you.”

Even though you were shocked to see the ring you were more concerned with what he said.

“I'm not pregnant, Wonho”

Wonho was confused and told you about what he saw

“One of those was mine, but the positive one was my friend had been trying get pregnant but... I was worried after a few times when we just did it. You’re really hard to say no to and there were sometimes I forgot to take the pill.”

Wonho didn’t know what to feel

He honestly wanted you to be pregnant

You knew he was upset likely because of that and kissed him

“Wonho, I love you too, but I think if we’re going to do anything like this we should be planning this. I would love to get married but I don’t want it to be on the cost of you thinking you have to.”

Wonho was alright after that

“Maybe we should have sex less then.”

“Okay let’s not take it that far, maybe we should just be a little more careful.”

Minhyuk

Minhyuk wasn’t the type of person to dismiss sex

So most times when you asked he delivered

And very well

But there was one time when the condom broke

You were worried

He understood this and let you sort things out by leaving you alone for a bit

He still checked up on you

Telling you things like even if it was positive he’d be overjoyed since he wants kids anyways

You loved how supportive he was

It eased you as you waited for the results

It was negative

When you told Minhyuk he was a happy that you could relax now

But he still was a bit upset

You knew why

“I know you want kids and it makes me so happy knowing you want me to be their mother, but you don’t have to worry you’ll get your children and we’ll make a big family together!”

Hyungwon

“Yeah, I mean she said not to tell you because she’s scared about you would react but…”

“I told Kihyun we should tell you, even Showun agreed!”

Minhyuk, Kihyun and Shownu explained to Hyungwon about his potential fatherhood

He didn’t know anything like that was even happening

But he understood why you could be nervous

He didn’t make it very known that he wanted children

But if they were yours and his he’d have no problem taking care of you two

Hyungwon didn’t mention anything to you

He instead wanted to make you comfortable with the idea of him being a father

That way you’d come out and tell him

So whenever he stayed over at your place he would cook for you

He helped clean

He stayed up later than you helping you to sleep

He showed up on time if you went out on a date together

These things were so out of place for him

Then one morning when he was cooking you asked him what was wrong

“Is it wrong for me to take care of you?”

He knew the answer to that

So he caved in and told you about your worry about being pregnant

“Hyungwon, who told you that?”

“Kihyun, Minhyuk and Shownu why?”

“They’re pranking you…  they said they were mad at us that one time we… did it in the dorm and were being loud. They told me they were gonna get us back but I didn’t think they’d do this.”

Hyungwon was pissed now

He did that tongue-cheek thing he does when he’s mad

“So you’re not pregnant?”

“No.”

Hyungwon didn’t know what was worse

That he fell for that prank

Or that he listened to them in the first place.

“But you know, it only makes me happy to see that you’re willing to step up to being a father.”

Hyungwon was happy to know that at least.

“But we should get them back.”

“Yeah, maybe I should stay over at your dorm again?”

“I would love that, the guys would too for sure.”

Kihyun

Kihyun was tired of your place being a mess

So he volunteered in helping you clean up one weekend

While he was in your closet he found some baby clothes

He didn’t know who they belonged to or why you had them

But he figured that answer by how you were acting recently

Even your bloating

He acted like he knew nothing for a while

He figured if you hadn't told him by now you must have been apprehensive about the whole thing

He understood that

But he didn’t like you thinking you couldn’t tell him

So he maybe dropped hits here and there

maybe a lot

Talking about his own nieces and nephews way more than usual

Bringing up the few times he did spend with children on Monsta x-ray

Talking about shows like The Return of Superman

It got to the point where you confronted him about it

“I mean if it’s happening then I don’t think we should be scared to talk about it. I’ll be here for you and the baby!”

Though you loved how supportive he was, you hated having to lie to him

“I thought I was pregnant about three months ago, I was going to tell you but I wanted to be sure before… when my test came back negative I just forgot about it.  Before that I was sure I was having a baby so I bought that stuff because of how excited I was.”

Kihyun hated knowing that you actually wanted to have a baby with him

So he promised to you that when you were more ready he’d give you the baby you both were looking forward to.

“If you want we can start right now.”

Jooheon

You had asked Jooheon to help look for your phone

When he found it he didn’t mean to see that you had gotten a message

He read it now that he was curious

“I know, having a baby is going to be a lot of work but…”

Of course he was in shock seeing this

He said nothing about it and things between you two went on normally

When you weren't around he told everyone else asking for their advice

“You having a kid before me?”

“You guys actually have sex?”

“I think you’ll be a good father... just don’t drop the baby.”

“Please let (Y/N) name it.”

“Don’t just push it onto us whenever you’re tired.”

“No, bring it over, I’ll be the better father.”

guess who said what

No one actually helped him but he was really nervous

After a little while he just decided to ask you

“You can tell me anything… e-even if it might be something really serious like a c-child.”

You had no clue what he was talking about but you reasoned if he was nervous and mentioning a child he must have thought you were going to have his.

You told him you weren't pregnant.

He was relieved.

“Why’d you even think that?”

“I saw you talking about a baby on your phone.”

“You really need to stop snooping around, I was talking to my brother about our older brother having a baby, he’s an idiot and might hurt that baby boy.”

Jooheon couldn’t believe he was wrong

While he was grateful it was wrong he was also kind of sad now.

He was almost hoping that he’d get the chance to be a father

Especially with you as the mother

“Don’t pout like that, one day you’ll be a happy father and I’ll be the luckiest mother.”

Changkyun

Changkyun wasn’t the type of person to rush things

So when you first got together

Sex was the further from either of your minds.

Though almost a year into it, you both felt like it was going to happen

And it did

Though not without mistakes

You were both virgins, that was expected

Wrong sizes were picked and wrong information was known about the whole affair

Still, it went on

for hours

So when Changkyun forgot to ask someone to buy condoms for him

You both were under the assumption that your pills would be enough

Though you forgot to even take the things and didn’t realize so until after word

What was suppose to be a sweet moment instead turned into panic as you and Changkyun argued about the situation

“Why didn’t you just make sure you bought them?”

“Why’d you forget about the pills? You should remember what goes down your throat.”

“That’s real appropriate considering the situation, you didn’t even let me do anything!”

This argument went on for a while until you just wanted him to leave.

He didn’t though and instead you guys started talking while lying next to each other

He admitted that he was more nervous about this than he led on and purposely didn’t buy the condoms so you guys couldn’t have sex.

Similarly, it’s why you had wanted to wait for so long.

You two said nothing to each other for a while.

“I mean we won’t know anything until a little while… do you not want my baby?”

“Changkyun of course I would want that, but I don’t think it’d be very smart of us to do this right now, we should wait until we’re both a little more prepared a baby.”

Changkyun didn’t argue and you both just sat in silence.

“But you know, if you’re going to have a baby anyways there’s no harm in doing it again right?”

You smiled and had no arguments.

#monsta x #monsta x reactions #monsta x reader #monsta x imagines #monsta x wonho #monsta x kihyun #monsta x jooheon #monsta x shownu #monsta x changkyun #monsta x minhyuk #monsta x hyungwon

[obliteratethefrog]

Pregnant Headcanon

-getting pregnant and your ex bf leaving you, so you have the boys(+lucy, bri, and rog) help you through your pregnancy.

A/N: I’ve seen so many people do “getting pregnant by this cast member and that) but like...what if they didn’t impregnate you and you were just their friend you were helping through a pregnancy? So here it is, enjoy!

 TAGS: @darlingyourebeingabore @vuhlereea @wearethechampionsblog

@ursoself-satisfying

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

-Positive.

-That’s what the little stick read, right in front of your own eyes. Positive!

-You were ecstatic! You’ve always wanted to be a mom, and now’s your chance.

-When your BF got home that night, you told him over dinner. His whole demeanor dropped right then and there.

-He broke up with you not even a minute later, saying, “I’m not ready to be a dad! I knew I should’ve used a condom the last time we had sex.”

-He packed up his bags and left right then and there.

-You were an emotional wreck after that, calling Rami to tell him the news while sobbing hysterically, asking if he could come to your house.

-Rami was out with the guys(Joe, Gwil, and Ben), but he told them the situation, and all of them decided that they were going to go and comfort you.

-When they arrived, each one of them brought you into a hug.

-Rami held you tight, Joe rubbed your shoulders as he hugged you, Gwil ran his hand through your hair while whispering sweet words, and Ben let you sit in his lap as you all sat in your living room of your apartment.

-You told them that they didn’t have to come, and that you were sorry for disturbing their night before filming, but Rami shushed you and said you were more important at the moment.

-They let you come to the filming set with them throughout your pregnancy.

-The first month was hell.

-Your breasts were super tender, you couldn’t leave the bathroom floor if you tried, you were always tired, your moods were off the wall, and so were your cravings. The boys brought you whatever you wanted when they had a chance to get away from set, but usually it was their assistant that was helping the most.

-You mostly camped out in Rami’s trailer while they were filming, and even Lucy was helping you through the more extreme portions (aka helping you take off your bra when your tits felt like they were being rubbed raw, holding your hair back as your puked, or even bringing a hot water bottle for when you got cramps.)

-5 months into production and also into your pregnancy, and the boys couldn’t help but be excited for the due date that was slowly, but surely approach.

-Even Brian and Roger were excited. Roger would always sit beside you when the boys were filming, as well as Brian. (hell they even gave you your own chair with your damn name on it!)

-Uncle Bri would bring a ukulele and play soft tunes close to your belly while humming lyrics to Queen songs (usually ‘39, Under Pressure, and Radio GaGa).

-Uncle Rog would always ask if he could warm his chilled hands on your belly, and when he did, he would feel your baby start to kick around at the familiar hands. He would smile like a kid in a candy store, reminiscing over each one of his children and how he felt when he did this in his youth.

-Rami would come over in full costume, hair, and makeup just to make sure you were comfortable. When the director would give them a 5 minute break, he’d come over and rub circles along your stomach, reassuring you of any insecurities you had throughout your pregnancy.

“Rami, I’m about the size of a whale, I can’t even see my feet!” “Don’t say that, (Y/N). You still look beautiful. Now c’mon, show me that smile.”

-Usually when he’d say this he’d start to tickle you furiously, but today he just rubbed circles along your bloated belly, causing a giant grin to span over your face.

-Joe would let you mess around with each one of the multiple hair styles he had throughout the movies, whether it be the long ass wig he had to wear or the curly perm he “hated”.

“I think you should keep your hair like this, it looks great!” “You’re just saying that because you like messing with the curls.” “You’re not wrong..”

-Gwilym would always come over to lay his head on your stomach, with you permission of course! He loved feeling your baby move around and kick at his cheek. It somehow always made him relax enough to get back into the mood to finish filming.

“(Y/N)! I felt the baby kick my cheek again! It was a good kick at that, do you think the baby would be a football(soccer) player?” “Maybe Gwil, maybe.”

-Ben wouldn’t really want to interact with the baby at the beginning, but about halfway through filming, he wouldn’t leave your side, making sure you weren’t in any pain or anything.

“Ben. BEN! I’m fine, really I am.” “I know you are, (Y/N), but I just wanna make sure. Do you want a shoulder massage?” “Actually...yes, I’d love one.”

-Being treated like a porcelain doll by the entire cast of BoRhap. Allen would always bring you a big bottle of water from the nearest convenience store or gas station he could find.

“Here you are, (Y/N), dear. Oh, and I brought you a snack” he would say, holding out your favorite bag of chips. He had noticed that usually right whenever you got to set that you would be craving these chips. “Thanks, Allen. That’s really sweet of you!”

-Aaron would always let you cuddle up to him when it was cold during the later shoots. His plush body always made your baby calm down.

“Ah, I felt the little bugger kick my stomach a bit, (Y/N).” “You’ve gotten the baby excited then. They love having you close, you’re warm and familiar.”

-9 months later and here you were, sitting in the hospital. Earlier that day, on set, you thought you were just having excruciating cramps, but oh nnnoononon, this baby was coming, and I mean NOW.

-You waddled your way over to Lucy, who immediately notices the pool of liquid that trailed behind you. She raced away to get the others, who rushed out of the makeup trailer, still in costume, before ushering you into Joe’s car.

-Thank God Joe’s from New York, and he knew his way around traffic.

-You were rushed in a wheelchair by a group of nurses, who immediately took you into a room that you had reserved earlier that month.(upon Rami’s request of course. He knew you wouldn’t want to be rushed off to the hospital with no room to stay in)

-Labor was a bitch. The nurse gave you your epidural shot about 3 hours before you were meant to begin pushing, but this baby was being really stubborn.

-Joe was kind enough to bring you a cup of water when you had just finished a really bad contraction.

-When the actually pushing came, they only allowed one person in the room, which obviously was Rami.

-He didn’t even complain when you gripped his hand with as much strength as an anaconda (me:*plays the nicki minaj song* lol sorry)

-30 minutes into pushing and you were greeted by the cries of your baby.

-IT’S A BOY!!

-Rami stared at the newborn that was resting on your chest after he was cleaned and taken care of.

“So, what’re you gonna name him?” “I think I’m gonna name him...Micah Fletcher (L/N).”

-Uncle Gwil, Joe, and Ben couldn’t keep their greedy little hands off of baby Micah.

-Uncle Bri and Uncle Roger swung by later, and they already had little toys and clothes for when you could take him home.

-You remember posting a video of all the boys holding Micah.

-Gwil was sitting at the edge of the bed, letting the baby boy grip onto his finger.

“He’s got such a strong grip, (Y/N). That’s good.”

-Joe couldn’t help but copy Micah’s actions. If he yawned with his tongue sticking out then joe would follow, smiling wide when Micah smiled back at him.

“Ah, he’s about to do it again...ahhhhhhhh hahah hey there..oh (Y/N) he’s got your nose and eyes!”

-Ben would let the sleepy Micah cuddled up to his buff chest(me:dem titties...oops sorry tumblr). Micah would rest his head on the middle of his chest while looking around the room with curious (e/c) eyes.

“You better try not to feed off me, I’m not your mum..” “BEN! HAHA”

-Rami was obviously given the honor of being his godfather, and he couldn’t have been happier. He already loved Micah like he was his own son.

“I’m fine, (Y/N). No, I am not crying..okay I am a little bit..but I mean you just made me his godfather and that makes me so happy..” “C’mere Rami, give me a hug.”

-Brian sits in the rocking chair in the room to get Micah to sleep when you were recovering. He could let Micah play with a few strands of his gray curls.

“No, No Micah, that doesn’t go in your mouth...awe now don’t give me that look. I said no; I don’t want (Y/N) griping about how you’re obsessed with putting hair in your mouth when you’re older.”

-Roger would fall asleep with Micah in his secure grip. He would be snoring away until Micah wakes up and takes a whole handful of his beard and tugs.

“Oi, squirt! Don’t tug on that, I’m already losing hair on me head!”

-THE CAST CAN’T STOP SPOILING YOU AND MICAH. Whether it be a pair of house slippers you’ve been eyeing or some new blanket for Micah.

-We all know Brian’s gonna be the one to decorate his nursery like a damn planetarium and you love it.

#bohemian rhapsody x reader #headcanon #okay this made me tear up a lot #joe mazzello #rami malek #ben hardy #gwilym lee #brian may #roger taylor #this snatched my wig and took all my uwus