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#comedy and tragedy of errors

the-bitter-ocean · 9 days

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ISAT BAD END THEATER AU NOTES/SUMMARY (MAJOR FULLGAME SPOILERS FOR BOTH BAD END THEATER, AND ISAT/ SASASAP) After a long time brainstorming with friends I present to you.. “THE BAD TIME THEATER AU”!

This au is mainly created by me and @coffeewolf54 / @coffeewolfart together! This is not a exact 1-1 au and will def have some unique stuff in here to better match the themes of isat and bad end theater!

I’ve talked about this Au with a lot of my friends on discord ( thank you @felikatze @daily-odile @tealgoat and everyone else who decided to draw art for /listen to me ramble about me and coffee’s au.)

The general gist of the story and everyone’s roles are under the cut:

|Welcome one and all esteemed guests to THE BAD TIME THEATER! A place home to many tragic tales on display for the world to see.|

|I am “TRAGEDY”- (aka the Playwright and Narrator). Alongside me is “COMEDY”- (aka The Director) to help showcase what our theatre has to offer to you all. |

|The premise is simple: You can choose between one of four actors to see their stories and it is our job to show you their fates! Don’t fret if you are unsatisfied with a particular ending, my dear Stardust and I can reset the stage anew! That being said every path often leads to tragic ends..but ah, what else can you expect from a place like this? |

|Even still..even now I wonder.. if this unlucky cast can be saved…|

|…Oh well. We should move on now~!|

|Without further ado… let’s meet the main cast! |

[ISABEAU: “THE HERO”] - A human. His role is the courageous defender that was appointed by the King himself with slaying monsters and protecting people. He is good friends with the Maiden and has been over the years questioning their role that’s been given to him. The Hero is fairly certain that he has never met any demons before personally but very adamant in the belief that not all demons would want to hurt others. (Though if he were being completely truthful he’d much rather be a fashion designer then have to fight anyone. )

{ MIRABELLE: “THE MAIDEN”} - A human. Her role is the faithful maiden who’s meant to passively fulfill her destiny of being martyr lest the town supposedly be at risk from being attacked or killed by evil monsters. She is good friends with the Hero and tries her best to be a devout follower. A huge fan of stories and curious to see if demons are anything like the tales she’s read in her books. ( Though if she were being honest… she has some doubts about her role in life and wants to take action. )

< ODILE: “THE OVERLORD”> - A half demon (half human). Her role is the (seemingly) cold and pragmatic ruler of the demons, gaining the title after her father recently passed away. She is described by other people as standoffish, she seems to have taken in the Underling and their older sister under her protection. Wary of humans and tends to lean towards keeping her subjects safe by having very little interactions with them. ( Though if she were to tell the truth, she admits to wanting to have a world where demons and humans can coexist peacefully.)

( BONNIE: “THE UNDERLING”) - A demon. Their role is to serve the Overlord and was tasked to help by providing support to their people by creating food for everyone. The underling and their older sister got saved by the overlord a long time ago- so they’ve been really loyal to her ever since then. ( Though if they were being honest, they want to help protect everyone like the Overlord does and not be forced to stay on the sidelines.)

and last but not least we have…

<̶̨̬͕̬̼̼̜̋̇ͅ|̶̧̢̧̛̻̘̱̲̠̓͆̒̓ ̵̰̤̦̥̰͒̾̌͗͗͋“̷̧̼̘̼̻̂́͜ͅT̵̡̤̳̯͍͓̅͂̌̋̅͒ͅḨ̵̡̱̺͍̰̞̅̆̎̀͜Ė̸̹̜͇̬̥̇͋̾̈́ ̶̺̭̀̅̅̀̍̊T̷̹̭̝̺̝̳̊R̶̗̱̹̙̍A̴̻͇̎̀̐̾̊̆̽͑V̴͚̫̦͚̅͂̈́̎͘͝E̴̦͋̈́̿̈́̑L̸̪̼̗̀̾̒͊̍͛Ĺ̸̮Ȩ̵̹͓̻͖̹̝̍͝ͅR̷̼̬̤̖̭͉̀̈̌͊̀͜͝”̸͎̘͆͊͜͝|̵̩͙͚̱̎̅͝>̶̳̬͙̫̘͈̆͐̍̓́̇͝- [??????? ERROR 404 DATA NOT FOUND]

|Huh? Oh my. Well, it seems like there’s been a mistake there! Pay no mind to that dear audience! We hope that you grow to love our actors as much as we do~! Let’s get the show on the road Stardust, we can’t keep our dear audience waiting any longer! |

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yourplayersaidwhat · 8 months

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Charm Ball Tennis

Context: The temporary character I was playing for this session wouldn't be introduced until the end of the big combat at the start, so I was playing one of the bad guys (Half-Elf Archfey Warlock, not that the party knows that) instead.

Me: Okay, so, yeah, I'm gonna cast Dominate Person on Barbarian

[He just barely makes the save]

Fey Wanderer Ranger: Wait, wait! Oh, I finally get to use this! I have Beguiling Twist, and since he made the save, now you have to make a save or be charmed! Uno reverse, motherfucker.

[Rest of the table laughs a little. I am just barely holding back an evil cackle]

Me: Yeah, well, you see, I have this thing called Beguiling Defenses-

[All of us erupt into hysterical laughter]

Me, barely able to speak through giggles: Which means that 1) I am immune to being charmed, and 2) now you have to make a saving throw or be charmed.

Changeling Warlock: (slams hands on table) UNO REVERSE, MOTHERFUCKER!

[We all lose our shit again]

DM: So you all watch as this tragedy, this comedy of errors, Warlock tries to charm Barbarian, fails, then Ranger tries to charm Warlock, and Warlock just throws it right back. You know how in Legend of Zelda, there are those boss fights that are just you and Ganondorf hitting energy balls at each other? Yeah, this is that.

Me: Charm Ball Tennis!

#shit my players say #rpg #submission #shareable #dnd

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self-aware-sawtrap · 1 month

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the thing about saw is that the genre changes drastically depending on who you view it as being about. you think it’s about adam? gay romcom. lawrence? gay tragedy. amanda & john? gay tragedy that occasionally moonlights as a workplace sitcom. hoffman? comedy of errors that’s so tragically unfunny that it somehow shoots the moon and goes back to absurdist horror.

#saw #saw franchise #amanda young #sawposting #mark hoffman #adam stanheight #john kramer #jigsquad

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wifegideonnav · 2 years

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god I’m just never gonna fucking recover from “harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn’t even want it.” the use of her full name. the agony. the shakespeare-level comedy of errors with the angst turned up to 11 and the comedy turned down to 0. the fucking. tragedy of it all. I’m unwell no fucking talk me rn

#op #griddlehark #harrow the ninth #tlt #the locked tomb

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tennessoui · 9 months

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Miss Kit I just watched Moulin Rouge for the first time and while there's lots of obikin possibilities my mind immediately jumped to mobi-wan watching it because he'd been told he looked like the lead and HATING it. Satine should CLEARLY go for the duke??? He has everything and can provide for her and what's wrong with wanting to own someone you love??? When christian tells the duke she'll never love him he HISSES. Pretty bird is never allowed to watch this film.

Rex, known romantic, tearing up as the credits roll: god, what a movie! it’s so tragic don’t you think ?

Cody, unmoved, but secretly a fan of all the singing and thought it was a comedy: sure.

Mobi-Wan: a movie filled with avoidable mistakes and strategic errors.

Rex: yeah! The tragedy of Christian and Satine so close to being fre—

Mobi-Wan: no. The duke made countless mistakes. He should have killed the interloper the second he saw him with his beloved. Not to mention he allowed her to keep her job? He should have stolen her away and locked her up where no one would ever look at her without his permission again and then every time he allowed her out into the world again it would have been seen by the girl as an act of benevolence and she would have eventually loved him for it. Amateurs, all of them. A comedy of errors almost.

Rex, fighting the urge to commit physical violence: ok I think no more romantic movie nights. I don’t think our relationship would survive it.

Mobi-Wan: I would hardly call that a romanc—

Cody, known shit-stirrer: let’s watch silence of the lambs next

Mobi-Wan: is that another romance movie?

Cody: for you? Probably

#asks #obikin #pbatmb #Cody: obi-war’s lucky he looks a lot more like the Christian guy than the duke or his lived experiences would be way more different #man’s relationship hinged on his pretty privilege for the first few weeks #then he really put in the psycho work #but getting anakin in his bed? weird pretty privilege

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deusamatne · 6 months

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story

ava is hopelessly in love with beatrice but terrified of being tied down

beatrice is in love with ava but is terrified of being free and herself

a comedy of errors and the tragedy of overcoming fears

#warrior nun #ao3 writer #ava silva #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #halo bearer #save warrior nun #warrior nun s2

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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My friend, I heard it's the cool thing to leave things in your inbox and I want to be like the cool kids so here I am. How about a scenario with Kurosaki Ichigo trying to convince S/O to ask HIM out instead of him just doing the asking out himself? It can be whatever you want it to be: comedy, romance, fluff, smut. The choice is yours *finger guns*

sora... love of my life, light in my eyes, wind beneath my wings, etc. etc. etc. u have been so patient, and i'd apologize but u already know what kind of drama this fic put me thru!!! anyway!!! this was a labor of love (as always) yk i only ever want the best for u bbgorl 🥰️🥰️🥰️

5.9k words (DONT LOOK AT ME OMG), fem reader, nsfw, 18+, mdni; there's fluff i promise (who am i), angst bc why not, mutual pining, and smut; ichigo... is a dumbass, and i like seeing him suffer; i also like seeing reader suffer; a wild orihime appears! and some other miscreants. feat. cute things like: hair pulling, slight exhibitionism (shhh), oral (m receiving), dry humping, kIsSiNg, idk alcohol but a tiny bit; ichigo is down bad ok, idk what to tell u; reader is also down bad but she thinks she's being stealthy abt it. (if u see any typos/grammatical errors shhh no u didn't)

“imprison me in your name, let love kill me.” — mahmoud darwish

i love you, with a touch of tragedy and quite madly.” — simone de beauvoir

SUNDAY — 12:01 a.m.

in such a vast, mostly unexplored universe — where curses and wishes exist ubiquitously, teetering on opposite ends of a complicated spectrum of morality — there is one universal truth: love is a fucking battlefield. such is the woe of one kurosaki ichigo as he navigates through the various intricacies involved with such a strong emotion. if it was up to him, he wouldn’t suffer through it — but it’s not. his heart is incredibly foolish, his mind even more so; and despite what others might think, he’s not exactly as confident in his capabilities in romance. which is why he’s resorted to mapping out different ways to get you to do the work for him.

mostly because he can’t bear the agonizing feelings that come with vulnerability. so, rather than him ask you out, he’s attempting to get you to do it instead. inspiration strikes when he’s sitting at his desk after midnight, textbooks and notebooks strewn about, his studying long forgotten. ichigo spends an hour or so mulling over the hows and whys of everything, when a brilliant idea — or, series of brilliant ideas, rather — suddenly pops into his head. tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, he scribbles down his thoughts, as if he’s afraid they’ll leave him forever if he doesn’t find a way to hold onto them. by the time he finishes, his hand is covered in splotches of ink, but he’s satisfied with his work.

he’s not completely sure if it’ll all pan out the way he wants, but he’s willing to give it a shot.

MONDAY — 10:56 a.m

it’s out of pure coincidence that he runs into you at the convenience store. you’re in an aisle with items that are on sale — a mega sale, at that — perusing through the little tubes of lotion and hand sanitizer, admiring the cute designs on each bottle, contemplating how many to buy. he’s tall enough that he spots you before you see him — which takes a long damn time, if he’s honest — but as you busy yourself looking at different items on the shelves, he takes to watching you from afar.

there’s something frighteningly beautiful about the way you make simple things look graceful and magical. from the way you carefully drag your fingertip along the labels, admiring the designs, giggling at some cute artwork; to the way you tilt your head, confusion clouding your vision as you debate internally over which product to buy; to the way you decide to shove as many items into your basket as possible, face flushed at the impropriety of purchasing so many — but they’re on sale, so you justify your shopping before you head to the cashier.

the entire time you move around, you feel his eyes on you; while he might think he’s being stealthy, you’re very aware of his presence. and how could you not be? ichigo isn’t someone you can ignore — nor would you ever try to, he’s such a dynamic person, kind without realizing, stubborn and silly, and, more importantly, incredibly handsome. you think it’s cute how he slinks through each aisle to follow you carefully — dressed as inconspicuously as possible — ducking whenever you turn your face to try and catch him, except he’s so damn tall that he can’t really hide too well.

still, you let him continue playing his little game, and head to the register to check out. maybe he’ll eventually let you in on whatever it is he’s planning if you play along. but he never approaches you, doesn’t call after you when you leave the store, which only leaves disappointment and confusion to fester around your stomach. he curses under his breath as he watches you walk further and further away from him; he’d meant to say something, to call out to you earlier, but nerves got the best of him, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

TUESDAY — 3:39 p.m.

the library is packed, students crammed into each seat and table along the first few floors. after the fiasco from yesterday, ichigo is that much more determined to make sure that things go according to plan today. again, it’s out of pure coincidence, that he’s also at the library around the same time you are. it’s almost instinctual, the way he spots you right away; he admires the shape of your calves, the way your skirt sits snugly around your wide hips, barely reaching the middle of your thick thighs.

it’s impossible for him not to watch you, not when you pause to look around the floor for an empty seat — teeth sinking into your bottom lip, lashes fluttering every time you blink. he knows how much you hate being in crowds of people, how your focus wanes if there’s too much noise around, and how you like to be away from any sort of distraction — you’re quite the dedicated student, he supposes.

so, it’s no surprise that you bypass the floor he’s on and scurry up the stairs, hand gliding up the wooden railing; an innocuous move that has him clench the pencil in his hand tight enough to crack it. he’s suddenly hit with the desire to be a damn railing — an odd, maddening feeling as absurd as it is debilitating. he almost doesn’t hear his name being called, but he does eventually look away and he’s intercepted by orihime and tatsuki. they implore him to sit with their group to study, much to his annoyance because you’ve left his sight and now he wants to go find you.

but he’ll deal need to deal with them, first.

ichigo reluctantly agrees — only after orihime gives him a sweet, yet pleading look, and tatsuki smirks and mouthing what now, almost as if she’s challenging him to defy their request — and plops down on an empty chair. his long legs knock into the neighboring chair and his complaints are ignored by his friends.

you struggle as you lug your heavy bag upstairs to the fourth floor; it’s eerie there, much too quiet, and for some reason people stay away from it. superstitions run rampant around campus about how everyone who studies on the fourth floor happens to fail every exam and assignment. you’re not one to believe in stupid shit like that, but you do say a quick prayer before settling down on one of the lone tables in the middle of the floor. despite being relatively empty, it’s well-kept and very tidy.

sunlight filters through the thick glass of the windows, illuminating the dated furniture and archaic books that litter the bookshelves nearby. it takes a few minutes, but you set up your textbooks and notes so you can review for your upcoming exam. ten minutes pass before you groan for the fifth time and place your face in your hands. you thought that studying by yourself would give you some distance from ichigo, but unfortunately, he’s been on your mind since yesterday. you chew on your thumbnail and consider your options; for whatever reason, he’s too dense to realize that you like him, but maybe you’ll need to be more forthcoming and upfront — maybe even dangle some bait to encourage him.

WEDNESDAY — 8:12 p.m.

after your first round of exams, you invite ichigo over to your apartment for a movie — a small, celebratory break in between midterms. your argument is sound — although, he would’ve agreed regardless — and he volunteers to come with plenty of snacks. all you can do is nod, you’re much too captivated by the shape of his jaw and with how his lips stretch into a smile. absolutely infuriating. all it does is make him radiate like some damn sun god, and you’re offended by it.

and for some reason, a small flutter in your chest causes you to inhale a sharply — thankfully you’re already on your way out of the lecture hall, walking swiftly in the hopes of permanently ridding yourself of whatever this is. you spend the next few hours obsessively scrubbing and organizing your apartment; by the time ichigo arrives, you’re physically exhausted. you miscalculated quite a bit, naively thinking that a bit of manual labor would cure you of your burdensome desire. but it doesn’t. if anything, you think about him even more. how will you survive with him alone with you during the night?

he's in a similar predicament, having spent the duration of his afternoon obsessively thinking about how best to deal with you — the situation was rather stressful, and while he could just sit down and talk with you honestly, it seemed more appropriate to approach things this way instead. he’s been to your place a handful of times, and he commits just a bit more to memory whenever he can. you’re a colorful person with plants hanging and stacked around cutely; you have an affinity for cooking and have artsy pieces scattered throughout your apartment. it fits you perfectly, and he likes how much more relaxed you are whenever you’re away from campus.

“you weren’t kidding when you said bring a lot of snacks,” you say, disrupting his thoughts, voice light and melodic. you eye the bags in his hands and offer to grab a few; ichigo frowns and lifts the bags away and over your head.

“they’re not heavy,” he says gruffly. he rolls his eyes while walking around you, legs carrying him quickly to the living room. if he didn’t give himself some space, your perfume would hold him hostage again; the last time he was this close, the scent of warm apples and sweet strawberries clung to his lungs with every inhale for at least a week. if he’s not careful, he’ll willingly fall into your trap all over again.

he places the bags on the coffee table before sitting on the couch, legs spread wide as he leans back. he appreciates how comfortable it is — with cushions soft enough to easily lull him to sleep. he fights it, of course, especially when you sit down next to him, thigh casually pressed against his. you don’t seem as bothered about this as he is, and when you cross one shapely leg over the other, he covertly adjusts himself while you’re preoccupied with the tv, leisurely scrolling through the options with the remote.

if he has to pinpoint what to blame, specifically, he’ll say it’s your exposed shoulders and flimsy shorts, your round breasts that stretch out your shirt, and your continued insistence on not wearing a bra whenever you’re alone with him.

he swallows hard and reaches down for one of the water bottles he brought along with the snacks; in the middle of him chugging half of the bottle, you place a hand on his thigh and give it a squeeze. he chokes and coughs a bit, hand clutching the bottle harder than he means to, making the remaining liquid shoot out and splash onto your arm and shirt. a deep flush crawls onto his face and ears as he mumbles an apology; you press your lips together, but barely contain your laughter.

“ichigo, what the hell was that?” you’re grinning so hard that your cheeks hurt. he turns his face and wipes some water from his chin with the back of his hand. “it’s not a big deal, really.” and it isn’t. honestly. you finally pick a movie — something gory and full of suspense — and settle back next to him, body pressed closely to his. the water didn’t help, and your hand is back on his thigh, stroking up and down. you’re not sure what possesses you to do it, but the compulsion hit you hard the moment you saw him sitting on your couch. it’s a pet peeve of yours whenever people take up that much space — the habit is obnoxious and selfish — but since he looks so damn good doing it, you give him an eternal pass.

even through the denim of his jeans, he can feel the heat radiating off of your hand, especially when you brush against his bulge, making his erection that much more painful. his cock is thick and heavy, precum drips through his underwear as he clenches his jaw and inhales through his nostrils. you watch him through your lashes and rub your hand up and down his stiff length. his eyes track your movements, the way your tongue darts out and briefly runs along your lips; he’s sure he could cum just by watching you do that over and over again.

maybe he needs help, or maybe he needs to investigate your lips and tongue properly.

as if commanded by an invisible puppeteer, you lean closer and place a hand on his chest; if there was ever a moment for ichigo to act impulsively, it’s now. he tangles his fingers in your dark curls, firmly gripping, tugging you towards him. he slants his lips against yours, tongue licking inside your mouth, caressing your tongue, bringing a heat through your body, an inferno that won’t ever be satisfied. you climb onto his lap, chest heaving, mumbling nonsense like “what took you so long,” and “stop teasing me, please”, kisses growing sloppy and urgent.

whatever sliver of restraint he has vanishes completely once you grind your hips against his, that familiar ache swirling around your abdomen casts a haze over your mind, making your logic nonexistent. his hands settle on your hips, gripping them hard enough to make you gasp and whine, arousal slipping between your folds and dampening your panties. you roll your hips, slowly at first but picking up the pace when ichigo brings a hand to your ass and slaps it. the sting has you jutting your hips forward, pussy bucking against his clothed cock, moaning pathetically against his lips.

if this is a dream, please don’t wake him; there’s a low pounding in his ears, and he takes a moment to admire the curve of your round ass, cupping it playfully. your nails sink into his shoulders, and he hisses while littering kisses along your jaw and down your throat. you bite down on your lip, stifling another moan. the movie long forgotten, you let out a small squeal when he sucks on your skin — teeth and tongue marking you, goosebumps pricking your arms and legs. you know there’ll be a bruise tomorrow, but you don’t care; he can leave as many marks as he likes.

you almost tell him as much, mouth opening, words stumbling over one another. “ichigo, i—”

several loud knocks on your door — accompanied by the terribly obnoxious ringing from your doorbell — has you scrambling off of his lap, face flushed and warm. you practically sprint towards the door, although you pause to catch your breath and fix your clothes a bit. ichigo lets out a frustrated groan, arousal pummeling into him, making it hard to think straight. he hadn’t planned on moving from his spot on the couch, but when he hears multiple voices coming from the front door, cowardice wins out and he hides in your bathroom. it takes five minutes for his cock to settle down, but when he goes to join you in the living room again, several of your friends are eating and lounging around on the floor and couch.

ever the gracious host, you’re pouring drinks for everyone, only pausing when you catch ichigo watching you. already your voice is an octave too high, your panties are clinging to your pussy, damp from your slick arousal. you do your best to not make large movements, preferring to keep your thighs as close together as possible.

annoyance pricks along the back of his neck as keigo clinks shot glasses with mizuiro; he didn’t think that telling them about his plans with you would lead to everyone else showing up too. now there are plans of ordering pizza and wings, of playing drinking games. and naturally tatsuki volunteers ichigo to go pick the food up. he shoots you an apologetic look, one that you wave away noncommittally. you know it’s not really his fault, his friends are just like that. still, you make sure to keep your hair down to obscure the various marks on your skin. you frown a bit when ichigo leaves but fix your features when orihime bounces over to you.

with a tilt of her head, eyes wide and bright, clear and strangely critical, she asks, “what’s wrong?” you know she means well, but you’d rather not discuss the fact that you were seconds away from pulling ichigo’s cock out and riding him until your pussy gave out when they all decided to come over.

“hm?” you try to clear your mind and adopt a friendly smile, “nothing’s wrong, just a little tired.” it’s true, though; you really are tired. all that studying, all that obsessing, it’s bound to make a girl exhausted. you can tell that she wants to press the issue, but in typical orihime fashion, she smiles and leaves it at that. the noisiness only serves to sober you up, but you doubt you’ll be able to sate the desire that steadily keeps building inside of you.

THURSDAY — 1:43 p.m.

tatsuki drags you and orihime to the gym, claiming that running is good for the soul — or something to that effect. you vaguely remember promising her last night, after downing one too many shots of whiskey, that you’d gladly accompany her to work out. your head throbs, your hangover a reoccurring nightmare, one that seems to follow you around all day. you try weaseling out, try to flake, but tatsuki is determined and stubborn as hell. you both admire and despise her for it right now.

you take it easy and stretch with the girls, before heading towards the treadmills. what some might consider benevolence on the universe’s part, ichigo considers cruelty; case in point, the fact that you’re here in the gym, when he knows for a fact that you’re not the exercising type — you’ve blurted this out more times than he can count, which is why he remembers. he drops from the pull up bar and grabs his towel to wipe his face, chest constricting, breathing ragged at the sight of you.

in the back of his mind, he understands that your attire is practical, he’s also quickly aroused by it; your leggings cling to your legs, highlighting your curves, stretching tight around your ass. your tank top flowing, your breasts almost spilling out of your sports bra, it was too much for him to handle at once. incidentally, you feel that ichigo working out shirtless should be illegal; your throat dries as your eyes travel along his broad chest, a ravenous hunger taking hold of your senses, that bothersome ache returning as you press your thighs together. you didn’t realize you’d stopped walking to watch him, muscles firm and thick, sweat clinging to his skin.

tatsuki calls your name repeatedly, and you have to remind yourself that you’re here to exercise and not gawk. it’s then that it dawns on you, your brain will never function properly around him — now that you’ve felt him, you lack focus. his sweatpants sit low on his hips, causing you to actually lose your damn balance; it’s partially comical, but mostly pathetic when you trip over your feet and helplessly fall onto the floor. your hands ball into fists, fingers curled inward, nails leaving tiny indents into your palms. you barely feel it, though, you’re too busy trying to regulate your breathing.

“y/n are you okay?” orihime rushes to help you stand back up; your face burns and you know that if you don’t put some distance between you and ichigo quickly, you’ll end up embarrassing yourself even more.

“yep, just peachy!” the lie is flimsy and you know that she doesn’t buy it, but you’re sticking with it. the truth is just too pitiful. ichigo frowns, fingers twitching as he grips the bar harder. you’re normally not that clumsy, and he’s half tempted to go and see if you’re okay. but the girls crowd you and he knows he’ll only make things worse if he interferes. you finally find a treadmill and even though you should probably stay off of it, you decide to use it anyway. you set a decent speed and fix the incline, opting to jog until your legs give out. if you suffer one more transgression, you’ll never be able to face ichigo again. already you feel that familiar burning sensation in your thighs, but you don’t stop; you’re not sure how long you keep at it, but ichigo is long gone when your body has finally had enough.

you drink some water and try to catch your breath. your mind is buzzing; you wish it was ichigo who helped you up instead. it’s a strange thing to be disappointed about, but you can’t stop imagining his strong arms wrapped around your soft waist. a lightheaded feeling takes over, you’re not sure how much more you can take; you’re barely surviving as is with minimal interactions with him.

he heads straight for the locker room as soon as he’s done with his last rep; no amount of cold water from the shower can snap him out of the daze you put him in. everything about you is dizzying, and just remembering how your lips and hands were on him, how soft your ass was, how he was so close to sinking his cock into your pussy the night before, makes his cock hard all over again. he has enough sense to ignore it, but he saw you jogging and nearly fell off the pull up bar. you’re dangerous, that much is certain; he’s never been this captivated by a person, so it’s almost as if he’s navigating through new territory.

“fucking ridiculous,” he says bitterly and turns off the shower so he can get dressed. he knows what he needs to do, he just needs everyone in his life to stop interfering so he can properly talk with you alone.

FRIDAY — 6:15 p.m.

for whatever reason, his friends conspire together and decide to do dinner at orihime’s house. rukia and tatsuki both shoo orihime out of the kitchen, not wanting to deal with whatever strange concoction her impulses come up with. it’s meant to be a casual affair, which he reminds you again when he stops by your apartment to pick you up. ichigo raids your fridge for something to munch on while he waits, and after fifteen minutes, he makes his way down the narrow hallway to your room. the door is open, so he assumes you must be all done, walking in without announcing himself properly.

there are several outfits strewn about on your bed; after the fourth one, you huff and stomp around your room, the carpet soft underneath your feet as you try to reason with yourself. it’s really because you’re nervous that ichigo asked you to go with him — as his date. or, at least, you’re sure that’s what he meant by inviting you to the dinner. you told ichigo you wouldn’t take long, but that was clearly a lie — not an intentional one, but a lie nonetheless.

“are you still not done?” he pauses, eyes landing on your half naked body; he gets hard instantly at the sight of your soft stomach and thick thighs. you’re too focused on your current crisis that you barely register that he’s in your room as you head back into the closet to look for another dress. if he had better morals and sense, he’d leave you to get dressed at your own pace; but, unfortunately for him, his body is the worst kind of traitor. this has been the longest week of his entire life, but he’s thankful that he has you to himself again.

you put on a new dress and flip your hair over your shoulder. “help me, please.” because your arms are still sore from working out and you figure there’s no harm in asking for his assistance. his heart lodges itself in the base of his throat, hands shaking a bit — nerves or excitement, he’s not sure — but he manages to tug the small zipper up without much issue. his hands linger on your hips, cock stiff as it angrily presses against the front of his pants.

suddenly, you’re very, very aware of how close he’s standing.

he knows that if he doesn’t let go of you, he’ll feel inclined to skip the dinner altogether. but he doesn’t want to deal with the repercussions of flaking, so he decides against it. he does, however, brush his lips along the side of your neck, leaving behind a trail of slow kisses. you’re teetering over the edge, falling further under his spell as his hands roam along your body, roughly kneading your breasts over the fabric of your dress.

you test the proverbial waters and rub your ass against his bulge, which prompts him to bite your neck in warning. you let out a small yelp and softly moan his name; you end up losing more of your composure when he turns you around and kisses you. his appetite is insatiable, his kisses feverish and demanding, a frenzied whirlwind that has you unbuckling his pants and tugging his zipper down to pull out his cock.

his imagination will never compare — your hands are still soft as ever, even as they grip him eagerly, twisting while pumping up and down his length. he hisses when you rub your thumb against the tip and kisses you ardently, tongue brazen as it swirls around yours before sucking on it. you rub your thighs together, breathing unevenly, his kisses scalding and potent. you pry yourself away from him and sink to your knees, tongue running flat against his length, circling around his thick head of his cock and licking the precum that seeps out of his slit.

ichigo’s moans echo in your room, bouncing off the walls, prompting you to open your mouth so you can take in as much of him as you can. he presses a fist to his mouth when you start bobbing your head, cheeks hollowed, mouth hot and tight; you caress his balls with your free hand, enjoying the way his cheeks are flushed and the way he licks his lips while looking down at you. he doesn’t think when he grabs your head and starts fucking your mouth and doesn’t think when you hold onto his thighs and relax your jaw to accommodate for his girth.

you can’t lie, you’ve been dreaming about this for longer than you care to admit — it’s almost embarrassing how badly you’ve wanted to have his cock in your mouth, but you never imagined that ichigo would be like this; rough, clumsy, but every bit as tantalizing as ever. you let him have his way, using your mouth and throat as he thrusts his cock deeper. you gag but maintain eye contact, tears streaming down your cheeks at the ferocity of his thrusts.

you know something must be wrong with you because your panties are soaked, the ache building from deep inside, bubbling and pushing you closer to the edge. you like this side of him, the one that’s a little unhinged and feral, a man possessed with a certain goal on his mind. he knows he should be a bit gentler, but the way you’re looking at him, like you’re more than pleased with how he’s handling you, convinces him otherwise.

“fuck,” he pants, breath coming out in shallow puffs. his phone rings, startling both of you; he wants to ignore it but has a feeling that it’s one of his friends asking for his whereabouts. he pulls out of your mouth, drool spilling down your chin. he has so many things that he wants to say to you, but none of them come to mind. you’re not ready for any of this to end, so you motion for him to pick up the phone and stroke his cock again.

he hesitates only for a moment, but you have a mischievous look on your face, and he knows better than to test your patience right now. “w-what is it?” he asks when he answers the phone, voice low and husky, a shiver sliding down your spine when you suck on the head of his cock. he clamps his mouth shut in the hopes of keeping as quiet as possible, but mizuiro sounds so concerned and keeps asking why he’s giving him one- or two-word responses. however, ichigo’s desire to fuck you is greater than his guilt; besides, he realizes, belatedly, that you want someone to catch him like this.

it's hot, he won’t lie. and he’d indulge you more, but with the way you’re stroking and sucking his cock, he doubts he’ll be able to tolerate a full conversation with mizuiro — especially as he drones on about how imperative it is for ichigo to keep his promises.

blah, blah, blah.

he cuts the conversation short, tossing the phone onto the floor behind him. he grabs onto your arm, hauls you to your feet, and his mouth is on yours again. orihime’s dinner party is the last thing on both of your minds, not when he leaves you breathless, kissing you until your lips are swollen, lipstick smeared. his hands are on the move again as he tugs your dress off of you, mouth placing messy kisses down your chest, teeth tugging on your hardened nipples before sucking on them. it’s impossible to keep steady when each ichigo’s mouth is ruining your life in the best way possible.

your arousal clings to the inner parts of your thighs, you’re practically begging him to fuck you, words barely coherent as you fuss at him, but he understands you just fine. after pulling the rest of his clothes off, he picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you against the wall. if he were a better man, he’d have the courtesy to fuck you on your bed; but he isn’t thinking properly, and he’s tired of playing around. he snakes a hand lower, fingers rubbing your pussy, dragging needy whimpers out of you.

“ichigo, damn it,” your frustration is cute and he can’t help but continue to tease you. he slides his fingers into your tight, needy hole, fingers sinking deeply without much resistance.

“you’re so wet, i don’t think i need to prep you at all.” he’s impressed, actually and likes how your pussy keeps sucking his fingers back in every time he pulls them back. you buck your hips against his hand, and if it wasn’t for his arm holding you securely, you’d fall over with ease.

you can barely look at him, cheeks permanently flushed as you moan loudly for him. “that’s it,” he coaches, thumb circling around your clit, fingers scissoring roughly, “you want me to fuck you that badly?”

your eyes grow wide but you nod and breathe out a, “yes. i’ve been waiting for so damn long.” the confession surprises him, as he was under the impression that he was the only one who suffered the entire time. and, because his cock is running the show, he plucks his fingers out of you, lines his tip with your entrance and slams his cock inside. you claw at the back of his neck and all along his chest, legs trembling as his hips knock against yours roughly. nothing could prepare him for the way your plush, gummy walls suffocate him — wet and warm, a snug fit that he’ll never tire of.

you move your hips in tandem with his, matching the timing of his thrusts, as you press sloppy kisses along his jaw, nails raking down his broad back. ichigo’s hips rock forward, cock burrowing deeper with each stroke. both of you are at your limits, he knows he won’t last much longer, but he’ll try his best anyway. his pace quickens, your pussy making lewd, squelching noises, your wetness coating his cock prettily. your breasts bounce as he fucks you harder, your voice growing hoarse from how loud you are, enticing him to pound into you wildly.

he licks the base of your throat, groaning against your skin when you roll your hips, cunt full as his cock is buried to the hilt; his tip hits a spot that makes you hold onto him tighter, breathing shallow as you call out his name. he commits the moment to memory — something to look back on late at night — thoroughly enjoying how you’re writhing underneath him. he angles his hips, keeps them closer to yours, bucking against you recklessly — his cock bringing about an incurable madness that takes over your entire being.

maybe it’s because you’ve been denying yourself for so long — or maybe it’s because you’ve been teasing one another all week — but you feel as if a bit of weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. his balls are heavy, each slap against your ass makes you clench around him more. he rubs your clit, firm small circles that send tiny jolts throughout your body. your back arches as your walls spasm, fluttering around his cock, hips stuttering under his powerful thrusts. the orgasm leaves you dazed, eyes rolling back, your cunt puffy but greedy as it milks him shamelessly.

he never pegged you for a squirter, yet you keep defying his expectations. you want to bury your head underground for eternity, hating the way your orgasm has you incapacitated, slumping over him while your wetness spills onto your carpet.

ichigo keeps fucking you until his hips jerk, rhythm disrupted, cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you. he humps you lazily and you pepper his face with wet kisses, his heart leaping out of his chest as your fingers sift through his hair. both of you are sweaty and out of breath, but when you look up at him, something close to adoration flits across his face. you’re not sure if that’s a post-orgasm sort of thing, but you’ll take it for what it is.

you brush your lips against his, gently kissing him, and ask if he still wants to go to dinner. ichigo shoots you an incredulous look and you laugh in response. “okay, okay,” you pat his chest gently, “boyfriends shouldn’t look at their girlfriends like that.” you say it casually enough that it feels like a joke, but you’re too damn nervous to look at him to see his reaction.

his ears grow hot and he presses his lips together for a moment before mumbling a, “sorry, won’t happen again.” you pinch his cheek and playfully lick at his lips. a warmth travels to your chest, nestles into the crevices that line the inside of your heart, and makes you want to kiss him all over again. he takes that as a sign of forgiveness — although he isn’t actually sure if you meant it or not — and carries you over to your bed. while he initially set out to get you to confess first, somewhere along the way, his mission fell apart. still, he can’t say he’s unhappy about the outcome. and, sure, his friends might give him an earful for missing out on dinner, but he’s much more content and comfortable being with you right now to care.

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thehamletdiaries · 9 months

Text

Dancing at The Globe

So, I have been lucky enough to see Comedy of Errors and Macbeth at the Globe recently. After Comedy of Errors, they did a dance - a jig, which would have been what happened after plays during Shakespeare's time.

After Macbeth, they did not do a dance because to a modern audience, that would have felt out of sync with the mood of the play (for obvious reasons).

But (if my understanding is correct) historically, during Shakespeare's time, the cast would have danced after tragedies, as well as comedies.

And whilst I wouldn't suggest doing that for Hamlet...something you could do would be a slow dance. You could do it with really any combination of characters, but the way I've been imagining it is with Horatio, Hamlet, Laertes, Ophelia, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (good luck to any cast getting Hamlet and Laertes off staged and changed in time but these things are doable). All the dead characters would be in white, so only Horatio would wear the clothes he wore throughout the play.

Hamlet dances with Horatio, Rosencrantz with Guildenstern and Ophelia with Laertes, giving us three types of love; romantic, friendship (sorry to R&G shippers, please don't come for me, I love you all and this works equally well if you see them as romantic) and familial. About half way through the music, they move into a sort of "Elizabethan style" slow dance, moving between pairs and allowing everyone to at some point briefly dance with everyone, but everyone ends up with their original pairing at the end.

Perhaps at some point Ophelia breaks down and is just held by Laertes, perhaps at some point Rosencrantz and Guildenstern just stop dancing and stand arm in arm watching Horatio and Hamlet dance...the boys dance, foreheads pressed against each other, not wanting to let each other go to the very end...Horatio's crying, or they are both crying, and Horatio is shaking his head and holding Hamlet as if to say "please don't go".

But towards the end of the music, the five actors playing the dead characters go to the back of the stage area, leaving Horatio alone downstage. One by one, they exit through the door at the back of the stage, Hamlet being the last to go, leaving Horatio standing alone as the music fades.

This could be performed with any number of pieces of music, but when I was imagining this, these were the pieces that I listened to. With that last one, particularly, I imagined Rosencrantz and Guildenstern and Laertes and Ophelia emerging first and dancing around Horatio before Hamlet enters upstage and walks towards Horatio, pulling him into a dance.

#hamlet #I made myself sad by thinking about this #naturally #shakespeare #the globe #comedy of errors #macbeth #hamlet/horatio #ophelia #hamlet x horatio #tragic danish boyfriends #laertes #rosencrantz and guildenstern

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writingmochi · 9 months

Text

cast: ateez & txt & enhypen ✗ reader

synopsis: a collection of ateez, txt, and enhypen works based on author's favorite radiohead songs

genre: variative for each member

based on: music radiohead's discography from albums “the bends”, "ok computer", "kid a", "amnesiac", "in rainbows", and "ok computer oknotok 1997 2017" (1995-2017)

status: subterranean homesick alien out now!

message from the moon: do remember that this is fiction and all the actions the idols do in these works do not reflect what they are in the real world. this is a non-priority anthology so all stories are standalone, won't have any schedule for deadlines, and will be written on my availability! also, note that the infos written below aren't the final one so i can add/subtract anything such as each of the synopsis which will have its final form when the certain fic is released

taglist? right here

listen to all 20 tracks!

you're turning into something you are not

cast: frat bro!sunghoon ✗ sorority girl!fem.reader

genre: romantic comedy, greek life au, college au, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: literature the prince and the pauper (1881)

it wears me out

cast: san ✗ fem.reader

genre: adventure, sci-fi, romance, dystopian, angst

inspired by: movie wall-e (2008)

you do it to yourself

cast: wooyoung ✗ fem.reader

genre: modern dystopia, thriller, tragedy

inspired by: tv show black mirror (2011-present)

this, this is our new song

cast: idol!hongjoong ✗ indie musician!fem.reader

genre: drama, coming of age, musicians au

i am back to save the universe

cast: jungwon ✗ fem.reader

genre: superhero fiction, adolescence, science fiction, angst

inspired by: comic cloak and dagger

ambition makes you look pretty ugly

cast: hueningkai ✗ reader

genre: content not available, set in the terra incognita universe

inspired by: error 401

they'd think that i'd finally lost it completely

cast: alt kid!soobin ✗ fashion student/designer!fem.reader

synopsis: after soobin's encounter with a person from his original timeline, he experiences doubts if he can settle in this new timeline or not. his alienation and existentialism take a spin in a new world he has to figure out himself, or if he could be courageous enough to ask you to guide him down back to the surface

genre: coming of age, slice of life, romance, drama, friends with benefits au, college/university au, angst, fluff, mature content (drug consumption and explicit smut), set in the time wave universe

this is what you'll get when you mess with us

cast: jay ✗ fem.reader

genre: drama, crime, romance, thriller, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: bonnie and clyde but with a dynamic of succession's tom wambsgans and siobhan roy

you know we're friends 'til we die

cast: seonghwa ✗ fem.reader

genre: content not available, set in the terra incognita universe

inspired by: error 404

we are standing on the edge

cast: detective!jongho ✗ detective!fem.reader

genre: crime, mystery, psychological thriller, noir

inspired by: movie se7en (1995)

the worms will come for you, big boots

cast: spy!yeonjun ✗ investigative journalist!fem.reader

genre: action, adventure, drama, agent au, angst

inspired by: movies from the 007 series: the spy who loved me (1977) and tomorrow never dies (1997)

i'm not here, this isn't happening

cast: singer-songwriter!taehyun ✗ up-and-coming actress!fem.reader

genre: drama, childhood friends au, fame au, angst, mature content (suicidal thoughts, manipulation, exploitation), set in early 2000s

help me get back to your arms

cast: movie character!heeseung ✗ fan!gn.reader

genre: psychological thriller, parasocial relationship, angst

there was nothing to fear and nothing to doubt

cast: yeosang ✗ reader

genre: adventure, action, mystery

inspired by: video game silent hill 2 (2001)

catch the mouse

cast: beomgyu ✗ fem.reader

genre: adventure, drama, thriller, road trip au, run away au, angst, mature content (smut)

inspired by: movies bones and all (2022), american honey (2016), and y tu mamá también (2001)

one by one

cast: guitarist!mingi ✗ session musician!fem.reader

genre: rock band au, angst

inspired by: documentary meeting people is easy (1998)

it is the 21st century

cast: niki ✗ fem.reader

genre: enemies to lovers?, high school au, angst, fluff

inspired by: folk story mulan

because we separate like ripples on a blank shore

cast: guardian angel!sunoo ✗ human!gn.reader

genre: fantasy, angel au, angst

inspired by: the boyz's roar concept (2023)

i don't want to be your friend, i just want to be your lover

cast: yunho ✗ reader

genre: drama, toxic relationship, friends to lovers au, angst, mature content (smut)

the beat goes round and round

cast: jake ✗ fem.reader

genre: time-loop, science fiction, mystery, drama, fantasy, romance, gang au

inspired by: movie groundhog day (1993) meets musical west side story

NOTABLE MENTIONS (written fics and the radiohead songs in their playlists)

let down ; exit music (for a film) - time wave

weird fishes/arpeggi - troubled pixies

all i need ; go slowly ; spectre - isobel

#k-labels #ateez imagines #txt imagines #enhypen imagines #ateez scenarios #txt scenarios #enhypen scenarios #ateez x reader #txt x reader #enhypen x reader #rsc: fm #cs: ateez #cs: txt #cs: enhypen #sc: regina

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thecomicallytragicgangle · 6 months

Note

Okay I've been thinking. You normally have a Greek comedy mask, and a tragedy mask.

When you wear each mask, you feel generally happy or sad.

But with both gone, and this reboot error...

What emotions are you feeling right now? Maybe that can help us pinpoint the problem?

..i feel.. uhmm..

..stressed, overwhelmed, uhm..

..being with zooble made me feel calm but- now i'm just confused, honestly..

[mod note: atleast you have search engines to help you with your theories :thumbs_up:]

[had to SPECIFICALLY avoid saying google and YOU KNOW WHY- /lh]

#the amazing digital circus #tadc gangle #ask blog #tadc #responsesfromgangle

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triflesandparsnips · 1 year

Note

Um. Izzy WAS rude first in that scene, though. The first thing he says isn't "still it's a nice room", it's "I was thinking what a complete misuse of space this is" or some such Badminton bullshit--and that's deliberate. He's deliberately being paralleled with Badminton with that line. Fucking piece of shit Izzy apologist bullshit.

My darling! My peach! Thank you for pointing out the true meaning of this scene, which, obviously, is the historical art of

COURTSHIP THROUGH CONVERSATION

As you and I both know well, dear heart, a popular publishing genre of the time was SAMPLE DIALOGUES between a wooing lover and a coy mistress -- as seen here, and here, and here, among many other places, several of which also include Etchings of a Curious Nature that I may only Hint At ere I too quickly tax your Gentle Sensibilities.

But leaving that aside, my darling moon and stars and small heavenly bodies that have been previously miscategorized as planets but that I nevertheless hold sacred in my heart-- there is a delightful subset of courtly conversation that, quite clearly, and as demonstrated by the canon and by your own dear letter, applies not only to our own tentative trembling tryst but also to that of Stede and Izzy!

I had not considered the matter before now, but your sly missive, so artful in its gentle tease and saucy in its declarations, reminded me strongly of what the sages called Mock-Complements, or Drolling-Complements. That is to say, when two would-be lovers, attempting to enter into a courtship but hesitant to appear too forward, treat their conversation with one another as if enemies rather than the hot-blooded lovers that they so dearly wish to be.

And so, just as your dear note falls between those lines, so too does that conversation between Stede and Izzy! For as you well know, since you most definitely reviewed the scene so as to ensure utmost accuracy in your thoughts and feelings before penning your note of Deep Romantic Interest as to My Person, behold:

Between a Roguish Sailor and a Fallen Gentleman. The Rogue, all courtesy How goes the fuckery? The Gentleman, his sharp reply What are you doing in here?

My God! What flirtatious delight! What promise of future connubial bliss! Look how clearly the Gentleman attempts to indicate the mode by which he wishes to be wooed! No sweet embrace nor honeyed words for him-- he seeks the speedy wit of a clever lover, pushing away with one hand while beckoning with the other, all Beatrice to his would-be Benedick. See how very intentionally Stede behaves rudely first, because gosh, protagonists can very much be assholes in their own right regardless of the motivations of any nearby antagonists who happen to be sharing screen time with them and for whom perhaps the audience is overly concerned with demonizing to the point of willfully ignoring the very literal previous dang line of dialogue--

Which, of course, you know! Because you too studied this scene with care and attention, and so, with your letter, wished to draw my notice to the deeper meaning of this clearly loving moment. My thanks, dear Sibyl, sweet Relevator of Forbidden Love, for urging forth this understanding.

And yet! A sad conclusion is simultaneously revealed. The tragedy of this bathic pairing is that while Stede has studied the modes and methods by which he can indicate his interest, Izzy has not had as thorough an education in the Artful Ways of Wooing. Rather than a fanciful rejoinder, he instead mirrors Stede's gambit-- a noble attempt at meeting his would-be paramour halfway, but sadly, only a Recipe for Missed Meanings. Our sad Izzy's reply would seem to parry the Gentleman's overture, rather than enjoin it-- and leads them, thus, to the Comedy of Errors wherein now they find their love, and also Ed is around here somewhere.

But never fear, my pocket pumpkin of pleasant fancies-- I will not make this mistake! Just as you so kindly dropped your handkerchief of Rather Ridiculous and Perhaps a Touch Juvenile Displays of Media Illiteracy before me in hopes that I might take it up for you, so too shall I offer it back again, perfumed with the hopes, dreams, and delights of our no-doubt felicitous and quite impending nuptials.

#look look! it's another #('enemies to lovers' future biopic applicant)#lemme just aaaaadd them to the list #*seals with a kiss*#our flag means death #and the continuing adventures of Strangers attempting to Woo Me with their Deeply Silly Tantrums #wait lemme add some real tags here #history #stede bonnet's theoretical library #trifles the amateur history enthusiast strikes again

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lesbiancolumbo · 2 months

Text

Crazy

I’ve said that he and I had been crazy for each other, but maybe my ex and I were not crazy for each other. Maybe we were sane for each other, as if our desire was almost not even personal— it was personal, but that hardly mattered, since there seemed to be no other woman or man in the world. Maybe it was an arranged marriage, air and water and earth had planned us for each other—and fire, a fire of pleasure like a violence of kindness. To enter those vaults together, like a solemn or laughing couple in formal step or writhing hair and cry, seemed to me like the earth’s and moon’s paths, inevitable, and even, in a way, shy—enclosed in a shyness together, equal in it. But maybe I was crazy about him—it is true that I saw that light around his head when I’d arrive second at a restaurant—oh for God’s sake, I was besotted with him. Meanwhile the planets orbited each other, the morning and the evening came. And maybe what he had for me was unconditional, temporary affection and trust, without romance, though with fondness—with mortal fondness. There was no tragedy, for us, there was the slow-revealed comedy of ideal and error. What precision of action it had taken, for the bodies to hurtle through the sky for so long without harming each other.

Sharon Olds

#sharon!!!!#words #Sharon Olds #Stag's Leap

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