#pretty sure its not allowed and he should be in jail

[rntsuoka]

my dumb grass baby

#iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu!! #art #THE DUMBEST HOTTEST GRASS BOY #brb gonna rewatch that ep where iwaoi watch ushiwaka and karasuno #when iwa walks in....... #and jumps over the seats to oikawa #illegal i tell you #listen how is anyone allowed to be as hot as iwa #pretty sure its not allowed and he should be in jail #my sanity is at stake here #911 AN ANIME MAN IS RUINING MY LIFE

[dalekofchaos]

Friendly reminder. Bruce Wayne hung up the suit and retired after THREATENING someone with a gun and this was his reaction.

And then his immediate reaction is to shut down and close the Batcave and his only words were. "Never again"

A truly tragic, but fitting way for Bruce’s career to end. Powerful stuff. Batman's career ended the same way it began: with a desperate man wielding a gun

Batman choosing not to be weak like Joe Chill >>>> Batman going on a killing spree because fighting crime is hard.

And by the way, since Zack Snyder says his inspiration was Dark Knight Returns, I got news for you, TDKR Batman doesn't kill either.

Zack Snyder is a complete blithering fucking idiot.

his statement on Batman just lines up with what I’ve seen from all of his work. He likes the idea of the comics he makes movies out of but he doesn’t actually understand their themes. A Batman that kills is pointless. An edgy Superman is not only the most boring way to write him, but doesn’t make any sense without the wholesome one. That’s why injustice Superman/brightburn/Plutonian/omniman/homelander kind of make sense in their own ways because the original exists to compare them to.(mostly also boring though) His take on watchmen was pretty much devoid of any of the actual commentary from the graphic novel, but instead was just a dark justice league that were pretty bad at their jobs. Rorschach was just framed as a kind of unhinged Batman, but still a badass that does good, which is wildly generous compared to the way he’s originally written. I can understand turning your brain off and coasting through an action movie, but his fans are delusional if they think he does any of these stories justice. I wouldn’t take any of his comments seriously if they would stop letting him make these mediocre movies.

Zack Snyder is all flash and no substance. His films are visually stunning but utterly lacking in compelling storytelling.

The point of Batman is he cannot 'stoop to their level'. He HAS to be better, he HAS to believe these criminals can be rehabilitated, because if he kills them, he becomes just like them. With his wit, his intellect, he could future proof the city against crime ever happening by just killing the criminals before they commit crimes based on probable statistics and similar themes. But a Batman who refuses to kill is a murderer by inaction. Every time he chooses not to put Joker in the ground, he's allowed him to slaughter dozens, hundreds more, just for a laugh. Batman is equally guilty for every one of those deaths, because he could simply kill the Joker, and stop him from ever killing again. But he doesn't. Snyder saying Batman can kill, Batman SHOULD kill, is to say that without batman doing so, or being able to, he is just as bad as the villians. Except dipshit doesn't even have his Batman kill The Joker. "Oopsie daisy, Joker got out and bombed a hospital full of people, sowwwwyyyy, I put him back in jail again dunt worry TeeHeee :3". And then next week we do it all over again. OR. You kill the Joker, and he never hurts another person again. Which is why Jason Todd works so well as a counter to batman, and SHOULD be what Snyder is looking into. The reason why Zod works so well as a villain is because Humans are flawed apes who cant be trusted to govern themselves and should be conquered, and Superman, a literal God, could fix all that, but doesn't, because of Hope. Its foolish, childish even, to consider that a solution. And when placed in the vacuum of a comic book it works because you have to suspend disbelief, and forget that Superman let a city full of people die while he punched Zod through skyscrapers.

If you want Batman to kill people, just go and read one of his 1784956th copies that kill people. Go read Midnighter. Go read Punisher. Go read Moon Knight. Go read Peacemaker. Go read Nighthawk. What is stopping you?

I'm sure all those characters have brought about the peace and prosperity and the crime-free society that a "killer Batman" was supposed to. "Punisher would clean Gotham in under a week", right, just like he cleaned Marvel's New York, didn't he?

It has to be Batman specifically the one doing the killing? The number of superheroes that kill is nowadays much higher than the number of heroes who don't. Remember how Hawkeye spent the better part of his existence being the most anti-killing Avenger? Nowadays he is known as a super-assassin that "never had a non-kill rule". Should heroes who don't kill go extinct?

I like that Batman doesn't kill people. I feel no need to turn him into something he isn't like it was done to Hawkeye. If I wanted a Batman that kills, I would go and read one of the thousand "Batman who kills" out there.

Batman should not kill and should never kill.

"Gotham would be better off if Batman just killed The Joker"

You. Miss. The. Entire. Point.

Bruce Wayne lost his parents to crime and Bruce Wayne is a child who died alongside his parents and was reborn as a creature dedicated to insuring it never happened to any other child. He made a vow never to reduce himself to the criminal scum’s level or to Joe Chill’s level. He never kills for a reason.

Batman not killing is what makes him so compelling, if he kills criminals, there is no moral conflict, he is no better than the Punisher, Wolverine or any other dark edgy hero. Hell, if he starts to take a life, Batman is no better than Ra’s Al Ghul.

In the Daredevil Netflix show, Frank Castle told Daredevil this “That’s not how this works. You cross over to my side of the line, you don’t get to come back from that. Not ever.” That alone is why Batman should not kill, not even The Joker. Bruce Wayne is not Frank Castle, stop trying to make him Frank Castle. I mean…Stan Lee was absolutely disgusted when someone called The Punisher a hero, Frank Castle is a murderer, not a hero. How is this so hard for people to understand?

I don’t want to hear that Batman killed in the old comics and I don’t want to hear Elseworld stories. It’s an established fact that Batman does not kill and it’s a big part of his character.

Guess what? We already got a Bruce who killed The Joker, it happened in the Burtonverse/Schumacherverse and he was disgusted with himself. “So, you're willing to take a life.” “Long as it's Two-Face.” “Then it will happen this way: You make the kill, but your pain doesn't die with Harvey, it grows. So you run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until one terrible morning you wake up and realize that revenge has become your whole life. And you won't know why.”

A huge part of Bruce’s character is that he doesn’t kill, no matter what. Same with Clark. But edgelord writers from the New 52, DCEU and the Injustice abominations think it’s cool to make heroes kill. Heroes should not kill. You can’t be a hero and a killer. IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY!

Guess what would happen if Batman kills The Joker? The Joker wins. The Joker and Batman are each trying to prove a point to society - and really to us, the readers. The Joker wants Batman to kill him because he perfectly embodies chaos and anarchy and wants to prove a point to everyone that people are basically more chaotic than orderly. This is why he is so scary: we are worried he may be right. If the Joker is right, then civilization is a ruse and we are all truly monsters inside. If the Joker can prove that Batman - the most orderly and logical and self-controlled of all of us - is a monster inside, then we are all monsters inside, and that is terrifying. The Joker is terrifying because we fear that we are like him deep down - that he is us. Batman is what we (any average person) could be at our absolute best, and the Joker is what we could be at our absolute worst. The Joker’s claim is that we are all terrible deep down, and it is only the law and our misplaced sense of justice that keeps us in line. Since Batman isn’t confined by the law, he is a perfect test case to try to get him to "break.” The Joker wants Batman to kill a person, any person, but knows that the only person Batman might ever even remotely consider killing would have to be a terrible monster, so is willing to do this himself and sacrifice himself to prove this macabre point. Batman needs to prove that it is not just laws that keep us in line, but basic human decency and our natural instinct NOT to kill. If Batman can prove this, then others will be inspired by his example (the citizens of Gotham, but again, also the readers), just as we are all inspired every day to keep civilization running smoothly and not descend into violence, anarchy, and chaos. This ability to be decent in the face of the horrors and temptations present all around us is humanity’s superpower, the superpower of each of us. The struggle of Batman and the Joker is the internal struggle of each of us. But we are inspired by Batman’s example, not the Joker’s, because Batman always wins the argument, because he has not killed the Joker.

Batman not killing matters. Batman stories to me are the ultimate tale of turning pain and suffering into something positive. That is a story that everyone can relate to because let's be honest here. The world can suck. I've experienced and probably will always experience feelings of fear of depression of anger of angst. It's in my nature as a human being to experience those things. It's in all our nature it is what we choose to do with that pain that we all feel that defines us. Batman chose to turn all those negative emotions, he feels into a symbol that can bring people. Hope that Batman will save us from pain but more importantly hope that we can all be Batman. Why do we fall? And Batman Begins explains this best “Why do we fall sir? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

Yes, Bruce Wayne is a flawed crazy person. He is at times mean stubborn and even abusive but he is still good. He is still someone we can aspire to be. We can try our hardest to be Superman but no human being can fly, but we can still try to be Batman We can all try to turn our pain into something good when I see Batman killing people or fans saying he killed before and he should kill The Joker, It pains me. It actually hurts my soul. Batman is not about finding a way to kill evil. But try to redeem it. His mission is an impossible task. Maybe he should kill people. Maybe he should kill The Joker, but what makes him fascinating what makes him a hero Is the fact that he has that moral code and stopped himself from crossing that line That's why I always looked up to Batman even as a kid despite all the adult subtext or mature themes superheroes are for kids. And killing is not Batman and it is not Bruce Wayne. This is why I hated the portrayal in the DCEU and the Burtonverse and why I really hated the implication that Batman killed The Joker in Batwoman. A Batman who kills is certainly not Bruce Wayne, that is an interpretation of Bruce Wayne that completely misses the point of Batman. It's easy to kill. Batman does not make the easy choice… Batman does not kill.

#DC #Batman #Batman Beyond #Bruce Wayne #Anti Zack Snyder #Anti DCEU

[hyperpsychomaniac]

This right here is honestly my favourite (serious) Erik moment. Yes I do still like this dumpster fire.

It's just... this is the one moment there's no subterfuge, no postering, no schemes, no ego. There's no consideration of his agenda, no thought of how its going to make him look. For at least this brief moment, Erik understands how bad he's messed up and what he almost allowed to happen. And then he, for once, he does his job, and dare I say, makes just about the best decision he could make under the circumstances. He just makes a decision based on the situation, and it carries some level of risk sure but he manages that by telling safety patrol to keep an eye on them.

This man is his own worse enemy.

So you know credit where credit is due (he still doesn't deserve a medal for this seeing as he pretty much caused the situation and should probably be in jail).

Also why I think it was his decision to quit/remove himself from a position of power.

#hilda #hilda netflix #hilda the series #erik ahlberg #hilda and the mountain king #the only thing going through his head right there is ‘fuck’

[marinazone]

What's been bugging my brain recently

Boy oh boy where do I start. Well I suppose I'll start with a little bit of context. Hi! My name is Hunter (if you never knew my real moniker, not many do even if i tell them); and I have been in a disastrous...what could only be described as love illness, since February 28th. Before i explain why (if you dont already know) allow me to provide my full experience with love. When i was in 12th grade i was used as rebound for a girl named Nicole after her boyfriend had broken up with her. It was the first time i had ever gotten to feel love, the expectations of what i should expect were to be established from then forward. We talked a lot asked eachother how we were doing shared similar interests that kinda shit. It was cool, the sex was lukewarm at best but it felt nice to feel appreciated. Thats when her emotional manipulation began. She would be in low points that i attributed to depression. I always told her "go get help for your depression, itll only get worse" all of which she militantly ignored to the point where she told me she was being physically abused by her family. Naturally, stupid me, believed her and grew more and more attached and protective and i didnt find out til after we split up that she was full of horse shit. It was during this point that she would take opportunities when she was "moody" to punch me across the face. Why did i take that shit? I dont know! I guess i was too fucking scared to lose someone i was attached too. Two years passed and i realize she started to ditch me to hang with some dude named Paul and was cheating on me for months. I finally asked firmly if she was and she admitted it, playing sap. I was devestate for about three months afterward. I had planned to kill myself numerous times but always remembered how much my friends would miss me. It was during this time around 2013 that i took up a habit of walking a mile to a nearby bridge on a "private walk" over an artificial lake to just gaze into and get lost in what seemed like infinite thought. I eventually got over her, but only after deleting all contact with her.

Second is someone online i will just call Saber. A very basic ass relationship. No emotional fulfillment for me and only sexting. He was a bit different in abuse in that it was more a financial abuse than anything else. He relied on me to pay for his ffxiv game and subscription and shit cause he didnt live in NA and i didnt see a cent back. The separation was far more a fade then burning out. We just stopped talking and i stopped giving once i realized i was being used

And the third ex is actually criminally dangerous so i will avoid any details at all about them! Just know theyre in jail still i think and they dont know my address

So we arrive more recently, I dont want to use exact names as im still in contact with them and are (presumably) friends and i do not wish to expose information given in confidence. I will just be using first initials as follow: A, B, T, and W.

So it began with a message I'd received from B (all this was when i was freyacrescentshangover on here). He messaged me because we were into the same shit and asked if i wanted to rp. I figured sure! Why not! Well he was pretty chill and nice and i would eventually tell him i had a crush on him. He said "its cool we have similar fetishes but lets just stay friends for now ok?"

It didnt upset me to much. Then W entered my life and boy is she a treat (not sarcastic, mostly). She contacted me for much the same reason. We were into similar shit. We'd spend a lot of time back and forthing this stuff and getting to know eachother and then i finally told her i had a crush on her and her answer is something to keep in mind for later. She didnt say yes, but she didnt say no. She told me things such as ne being cute and how she enjoyed how we had similar kinks and said she'd be down to be more flirty sometimes. I had no fucking idea what this meant (No offense W) so I was more just in a state of confusion where our relationship was. As for why i admired her? She was passionate. Her interests were so emblazoned on her soul that is was visceral just being in a conversation (still is to an extent). Yet she's also so cool and mysterious. It felt like she was someone i had to learn about, someone that i could listen to their passions for hours in complete awe and admiration. Thats still what i admire about her to this day i suppose, but ill get onto that more in a bit.

This was also around the same time i had developed a crush on A. A is super cool and chill even to this day. Never afraid to be herself or says what she feels and that is truely admirable. She'd contacted me because, once again, we were into similar fetishes. We did the old exchange weird stuff and talk until i noticed she, by complete fucking cosmic coincidence, lived in the same town as me. You guessed it! Got a crush on her. This rejection breaks the mold a bit though in that she reciprocated the feelings but felt she was in to many relationships and couldnt provide me the emotional support i needed. Didnt bother me too much.

Well, that is until a couple months later A and her wife formed triad with W. It felt so.....bad if im being honest. I feel guilty to say it and i am really happy for them still! But there's always been a part of me since then that sorta felt......jealous? Short changed? I dont know, its hard to find a word for it. Its like when you taste something super fucking sour but you like expected it to be sweet. My self worth sorta plummeted from it all. Like i just wasnt enough for them..

Cut to later and i met T. Shes super sweet and funny and boy i got a crush on her too! She got into contact with me because......you guessed it! Similar fetishes! It feels like im just gifted with a power that lets people confide their weird fetishes with me. When i told her she told me essentially "Same fetishes dont like you that way".

Now we cut from 3 years ago to a month ago. I get feelings spurring up again for T and W (Probably A too but after how this goes I dont wanna be crushed ever again). I tell T first i have a crush on her. She says something similar to before but elaborates that romantic feelings are very hard for her to obtain. Then I tell W again. She says "We have similar fetishes and thats cool but i dont like you that way". For some fucking reason, this was an emotionally devastating breaking point for me and im not sure why. i got over T in like two days. W on the other hand? Were a month strong in and I still cant stop being depressed about it all. What happened here? What went different here? Was it because of the awkward response id receive years ago? Was it the jealousy-like feelings i still harbored? Is it just because i wanted to hear more about her and her interests and passions hidden under that cool (and sexy) exterior like i had before? I dont know. Probably never will. Likely a combination of all those though.

So here I am, on this weird precipice of loneliness, ready to die any second because my self worth doesnt seem to improve no matter what I do (and ive been doing a ton lately). Will I be able to work up the courage to take another final shot at A? Probably not, my body can't take another hit like that. Atleast not so soon. Will I ever get over W? Im not sure. The last time i felt this bad was with Nicole and I had to cut all contact with her to feel better, but the thought of doing that with W makes me even more sick. Maybe I'm just SOL and my emotional and mental stability doomsday clock is finally reaching midnight (sure hope not! I have Marinas to bully!).

Apart from all this, with how spurred i feel and such. I find it harder and harder to get out of bed every day. To do the things i like keeping myself healthy. Eating. Showering. To live. And yet I move.

[girls-are-weird]

a fragment

so... i wrote this short fragment of a scene ages ago... maybe a month or so after YR S2 premiered, when i was trying to wrap my head around what i wanted S3 to be like or what i thought would happen in it-- either/or. i'm not sure.

i wanted to write it early on in the break, before the real S3 came and jossed it, but although i had some idea of the beats i wanted to hit, i was never able to fully crack the plot, and now that S3 is firmly in postprod territory, i realize i probably won't have time to write the full thing. but i think it's a pretty good piece of writing, and i don't want it to just languish in my hard drive without anybody ever reading it, so i figured i might as well put it out there just for kicks.

you don't get much of the plot in it-- it's just 650 words of wille complaining about being grounded at drottningholm-- but the gist of the fic was going to be: sara runs away after telling the police about what august did, her family thinks she's missing and the police starts searching for her, august gets arrested but he promises to not implicate simon with the drugs as long as the crown puts all of its resources into the search, wille demands to be allowed to stand with simon and linda during public appearances to support them/give the case more visibility, and eventually they get a tip from the public that leads them to sara alive and well in some other city she ran away to because she couldn't take the guilt of what she did to her brother. they all make up. august goes to jail. something something happy ending. your guess is as good as mine. xD

anyway, here's the little snippet i did manage to write. it was supposed to be the very beginning of the fic. hope you like!

Four days Wilhelm spent by himself at Drottningholm, completely disconnected from the outside world and without a clue as to what was happening with Simon or any of his friends at Hillerska. His mother had confiscated his phone before leaving the school that day; his computer was presumably still at Hillerska or elsewhere with the rest of his belongings, which hadn't been returned to him as of yet. He could watch tv in the family lounge but all they were doing was speculating about his sexuality and his relationship with Simon without any response from the Crown, and that only made him even more anxious, so he'd given up on the news altogether. His parents' room and offices had been unused and locked for the past four days so there was no way he could use their desk phones even if he knew how to do that (which he didn't), and the entire house staff had been instructed not to lend him theirs no matter how much he begged. Labor contracts and NDAs outweighed pity when it came to the palace staff, unfortunately.

He hadn't even heard from his parents, who had probably spent the past few days at the Royal Palace dealing with the fallout, and his only interaction with another human being other than the house staff was his one daily check-in with Minou. He was sure his mother had done that on purpose because Minou was the "nice" one— Farima would've gotten a door slammed in her face, and Jan-Olof better not show his face around Wilhelm any time soon if he valued his life at all. But even though polite, Minou was still loyal to the Queen, and the most Wille had gotten out of her was that the team was figuring out how to proceed after his reveal at the jubilee and he should stay out of the public eye until further notice.

Not for the first time, he cursed having to live in a place watched over by the Royal Guard; their job was just as much to keep him in as it was to keep intruders out. He swore he'd haunted the palace like an 18th-century ghost, pacing trenches in every carpet to be found within the 162 hectares of the property in search of some exit that would allow him to get outside undetected and maybe hail a cab or jump on a bus— fuck, at this point he'd even try and hitchhike back to Bjärstad, even though every horror movie in history warned against doing that.

But even that was a no-go. Every known exit to the building had at least one guard posted outside of it, and he was certain he'd be bodily brought back inside if he so much as poked the tips of his toes beyond any external doorway. By this point, he'd even begun contemplating the physics of jumping out a window, but he'd concluded there wasn't one that was close enough to the lake that he could fall into it and maybe, with some luck, not break every bone in his body.

This had to be some kind of kidnapping, right? Except even if it was, he was screwed because his captor just happened to be the queen of the fucking country, who probably couldn't even be charged with a crime— he wasn't sure; he'd never asked. Erik would probably know, but that was… a whole separate issue, wasn't it? And even if he raised a stink about neglect or something along those lines, he was nearly seventeen, not seven, and nobody would buy it, anyway, because the place he was being held captive in happened to be a bloody palace with a whole fleet of servants at the ready to attend to his every need.

Except when that need happened to be talking to the boy he loved.

#young royals #young royals netflix #prince wilhelm #simon eriksson #wilmon #wilhelm x simon #wille and simon #hi there otp #cali writes fanfic #simon x wilhelm #wille x simon #simon x wille #netflix

[butwhatifidothis]

I always kinda felt lukewarm to the idea of the idea of the "Three Houses Golden Ending," like fan fic is allowed to be whatever but it always felt kinda disingenuous as an idea cuz it kinda took away from making the choice you did and living with those consequences, but I could also understand the appeal of it, getting to see everyone together and alive, especially since the game does encourage you to try to get to know everyone.

But then you look at the Fandom-Specific Plot section of 3H's YMMV page and these "Golden Ending" ideas and it really falls apart since 90% of the time it's used as either a Get Out of Jail Free card for Edelgard so they can "focus on the real threat" or a way for her to "convince" Dimitri and Claude to just give up and let her conquest be "morally ok." Especially since their common "True Antagonist" targets are Rhea (who only Edelgard hates, Dimitri's okay with her and Claude comes around once he hears her side) or the Slitherers (who Edelgard actively supports and receives aid from).

Heck, the closest thing we get to a "golden ending" in 3H is Azure Moon, and Edelgard still chooses to fight to the death even after Dimitri offers peace as an option. Like, gee, it seems kinda like Edelgard will never accept peace unless she's the one and only ruler, really a team player kinda mentality there. /s

Yeah I've long accepted that for the 3H fandom "Golden Route/Ending" is just shorthand for "Edelgard right Rhea Bad" because that's almost always how they end up. Edelgard rarely has to grow as a character, realize she might have been wrong in her approach, reject her imperialistic dream once she sees how dangerous and deadly it is - it's always up to Dimitri and Claude to "open their eyes" and see that war was the only way to bring peace to Fodlan, because Rhea Bad and would never ever ever allow for change to happen under her ever watchful eye.

You know just ignore the fact that the Southern Church branch was completely gotten rid of by the Empire and has had no replacement for around 120 years, which is a pretty big fuckin' change that even directly pertains to the Church specifically. Ignore the entire formation of the Leicester Alliance in the first place, which is the only nation of Fodlan to have no monarchy at all - a monumental change that was allowed to happen, like, 300 years ago and with literally no known Church interference at all.

But no, in order for change to happen Rhea definitely totally needed to be killed, because her death is the only way for Fodlan to see a new future. War with the Church and its eventual total destruction is the only option available for sustainable, lasting change in Fodlan. Uh huh. Just ignore the other sustainable, lasting changes in Fodlan that literally didn't need the Church to be destroyed to happen due to Rhea literally letting the change happen.

Yeah no lol I ain't buyin' it. And Golden Endings just kind of assume that Dimitri and Claude would just be okay with the fact that Edelgard was directly involved with or otherwise benefited from the heinous actions of TWS - even before the events of the game like, you know, the Tragedy. That thing that Edelgard herself blames on TWS and yet nonetheless decides to look over in favor of gaining their power, up to covering up for them when the topic is brought up and going along with the falsehood that it was Duscur that did it. Yeah, really sure Dimitri is going to be very understanding about that once she tells him that she did that to cover for her allies so that she could better conquer his land.

And I'm sure Claude would also be very understanding of Edelgard's motivations of taking down the Church once she reveals that she's doing so because she thinks that Nabateans as a race should not be able to have power due to their natural inclination towards inhumanity. I'm sure once she opens up about how she wants to get rid of all of the vile creatures that masquerade as human she can find because their very presence disallows peace in Fodlan, Claude - who is just very okay with mindsets like this and totally isn't completely opposed to them - would nod along and agree with her.

The AU asks for a lot, but because of how much the fandom at large wants Edelgard to be a good guy and thinks of Rhea as evil incarnate, the hoops and loops are jumped and hopped through to allow for Edelgard to be the one in the right, with maybe the minor concession on her end but still nonetheless the one that the other two have to "learn" to believe in. Ignore that, like you said, the only reason there isn't an actual canonical golden ending in 3H where (almost) everyone lives is because Edelgard refused the offer of peace when given to her by Dimitri. Twice. The second time with the dagger that he'd just returned to her. It's annoying but that's what the blacklist option is for lmao

#ask #anon #exqueuese me princess #anti edelgard #anti-edelgard #edelgard critical #edelgard discourse #just to be safe #i mean if you ask my sis she'll say that AM as it is now IS the golden ending because all the villains are defeated #and none of the heroes die #but that's not an opinion the 3H fandom will ever be ready for 🚶‍♂️ lmao

[lunarifie]

Rewatching Ninjago

(With no context other than the episode)

The Tournament of Elements episode 9-10

Uh huh. So im just supposed to believe that the people of ninjago city are scared of serpentine ppl (like skyler) when the serpentine just saved them from the overlord

Skyler: i wish i still had the power to change

Kai: you have changed, your with us now.

Thats actually so sweet

Kryptarium prison: jail for the worst of the worst.

Dont the ninja get thrown in here once

Pythor: AND forced me to take a shrinking pill!

That wasn’t for you and NO ONE told you to jump and take it.

Cole: ill handle this!

(Throws rocks at prison bars almost freeing inmates)

Cole you dumbass.

Keep forgetting these two anacondrai are kapow and chope. They changed :(

They were so goofy before

Lloyd: we cant let him get into the wrong hands! Literally…

Pythor: oh i get it, its literal because of my size. 😒 Well, im a little sensitive so-

Garmadon: a little sensitive?

Love them pun teaming

Cole: It aint fair! Why do they get weapons and we dont!

Jay, completely serious: Everythings a weapon in the big house. (Fights an anacondrai with a toothbrush)

Jay have you gone to jail

Cant believe Wus snake racist

Maybe he should have gone with the ninja and seen the snakes new civilization under ground

Lloyd: I lost him

Garmadon: wha- What do you mean you lost him?!? Find him!!!

Hes such a dad 😭

Wait wait wait i forgot when were there pirates

Oh ok when garmadon brought them to life with the mega weapon.

Got it

Why is it that they never use their elemental power when they actually need to

COLE. DONT. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. NOW THEYRE ALL GONNA ESCAPE.

(Cole, busting down walls to escape.)

Jay: when people try to bust out of jail, they do so quietly. not literally!!!

Jay. Have you. Been to. Jail.

Okay pythors actually hilarious

THE MEME SCREAM

ITS BEEN SO LONG

Jay: what happened to ‘we stay as one?’

Garmadon: this isnt a vote jay, this is war.

Good to know jay knows when to stfu

I actually feel like sometimes he takes garmadon more seriously than Wu

I feel so bad for Garmadons guilt, like honestly, the letter isnt even that bad. Yeah its a dickish thing to do. But if wu and misako dwell on it and get angry then thats on them, it happened YEARS ago and it was chen who pressured him.

Misako: theres smth wrong… what aren’t you telling me.

Garmadon: were on the threshold of war and im a man-snake. Take your pick.

Jenfusbdjfbskne

Misako: the letter? Oh! It was the reason i fell in love with you.

Oh.

Well…

Lloyd probably felt like he scared that kid with the dragons blast, but he didnt get to see how the kids eyes sparkled and threw his soccer ball away, asking anyone if they wanted to play dragons 😭

I actually love Coles dragons design.

This whole season Cole has a sort of greenish glow to his powers but im pretty sure later its more lava like and I cant decide which one I like more.

Praise that old lady who only cares about driving her car and not being blocked by dragons in this madness

KAI STOP FIREBLOCKING THE ROADS.

NO NOT THE DRAGON LOVER KID

Wu let Garmadon be angry i feel like hes allowed to after everythings chens done to him 💀

STOOOP

NO.

CHEN.

YOU FUCKER.

GARMADON WAS GONNA TELL THEM HIMSELF.

HE WAS ABOUT TO.

IM GENUINELY ANGRY WTF CHEN.

im crying.

Wu bro pls hes sorry he said hes sorry

Ik if that happened to me I would be pissed asf

But still!!!!!

At least skylers keeping a steady head.

HFJSNFJDNSJNR

Wu's passive aggressiveness is so funny

And fair

He needs time and that's ok

Wu thinks a lot like an actual military or war general

Very strategic

KAI AT THE DOOMSDAY COMIX GIVING A SPEECH FOR HELP

JAY AT THE JUNKYARD

ZANE AT HIS MONUMENT STATUE

COLE AT THE PRISON

I'm so hyped

WAAAAR

THE LITTLE SNAKE BOY WITH A BOMBER JACKET MADE A HUMAN KID FRIEND IM CRYING

my favorite trope is when the city fights with the heroes

(statue and rocks fall down)

Awkward silence

The anacondrai a second later: ARAAARGRHRRRR

Pythor named the sewer rat Rodrigo

Is this pythors character arc???

Skyler after throwing her father: sorry, but i have a few daddy issues.

HFISNFJSJRKR

I said this in my last reaction but Garmadons urge to self sacrifice himself as an act of heroism to make up for what hes done/doesn’t think he deserves to live, is smth so obvious but smth i thought he changed and grew from

Now hes relapsing :(

Lloyd: you think im gonna stick around to watch you go! Fine! My real family needs me.

LLOYD NO 😭

I FORGOT GARMADON SACRIFICED HIMSELF BEFORE TURNING EVIL THIS IS GONNA KILL ME

Not the melodramatic music.

NOT THE FLASHBACKS

this is unfair

Lloyd literally a minute after (comes back): if anyone should be sending you off. Its me.

Well that was quick.

Had a whole realization in 0.5 seconds

Garmadon: I yearned to make the world in my image. I never realized I already had, in you.

Brb sobbing my eyes out

Even pythors like 😧

I love when rad snakes kill poser cultists

I hate that the “whats wrong! Looks like you’ve seen a ghost!” Joke from Cole was completely intentional in foreshadowing bc the anacondrai generals look just like Morro and Cole when theyre ghosts and the ghost seasons right after this

Chen: Save me skyler!

Skyler: 🙂

They made pythor big again :D

What the anacondrai generals said to Lloyd is probably the most respect hes been given for like, EVERYTHING EVER.

Skyler

No, no you dont. You DONT need to take up the family business. Let it burn to the ground. Its fine :)

NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING WHY ARE YOU BURNING THE SPELLBOOK THATS SO USEFUL WTFFF

HFNSJFNSNR WHY IS MORRO HERE

he popped out of nowhere and that took me so off guard

#ninjago #lego ninjago #Rewatching Ninjago

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 9: Hackers

Finally watched Hackers for the first time and aaaaaaah it is so good. I had heard it was good but I wasn’t really sure otherwise what to expect, and honestly my immediate reason to watch it was to see the outfits and Matthew Lillard (in his Outfits) being deranged. But it really drew me in just about every respect.

It did feel a little long to me but not necessarily in a bad way, more in a ‘there is a lot going on here.’ It didn’t drag but it had a lot of story. Also, I started watching kind of late and my stream of it was a little wonky so I had to pause it with some frequency to get it to stop skipping, which made it longer. My only other sort of complaint is they really just abandoned Phreak in jail, huh? I mean presumably he was let out at the end but we never see that happen, and he also presumably was not out on bail (…racism?), which meant he wasn’t even allowed to be part of the big climactic scene. That felt sort of sad because he had been a significant character before then.

But—these are quibbles honestly! I really, really loved it. So well cast, such great costumes. I loved Dade’s mom and his relationship with her. I don’t know what I was expecting necessarily but definitely not that, not for her to be both so supportive and so funny. You love to see it. And I also really liked Dade, how he was clearly very talented but he wasn’t the MOST talented, he wasn’t like the savior or the main genius among all geniuses. He was significant to the final hack but he wasn’t the one to bring it all home. He clearly did have next level skills but there also wasn’t any indication he’d actually broken parole, which is to say he’d been out of the game for years. That’s smart story telling because it allows him to be an audience surrogate to learn things (not vocab per se—that’s Margo) but the NYC Hacker scene, but I also think it would be tempting to still have him be magically, inherently, naturally, heroically better than the rest despite his disadvantages. To have it both ways in a sense. Like I really thought he would win the contest against Burn if for no other reason than to get them on a date, and maybe also to make it clear that, you know, she’s good, but she’s no Male Protagonist. I would say that it was really a tie, though. She says he was declared the winner at the end but before the contest was really even over she was changing the game: not betting the date but betting the dress code. (He should have been wearing a dress in the last scene though.)

He was also just generally really sympathetic, I thought. Maybe I was expecting too much Mr. Robot lol (and there were parts that reminded me of Mr. Robot, especially when all the hackers got together) but he was… a pretty normal kid, and his weaknesses were the intensely relatable ‘new kid in school can’t find the office’ and ‘teenage boy thinks teenage girl is pretty.’ He wasn’t nerdy but he wasn’t cool; he fit in with this subculture pretty easily, but he didn’t dominate within it.

 And it was so 90s… but not in a dated way, honestly. I kind of was expecting it to be in some sort of inevitable way, not just because it was made in the mid-90s but because it was about something so cutting edge at the time, but it was totally immersive. I wasn’t thinking ‘oh how 90s’ very often and never in a bad way. It’s aesthetically over its time but I like things like that, that don’t try to be timeless because that generally means generic. Also generic things can become dated too and then it’s all that work to be bland for nothing. I was pretty young when this movie came out so I don’t personally remember computers of this era very well—we did have one in ’95 but it wasn’t a laptop and I, personally, a first grader (?) was not exactly the one using it. But I remember, you know, more of that more general era than Kids These Days would for sure. So it was sort of a weird combination of familiar but old-school tech, like the floppy disks, and before-my-time tech like the laptops and a lot of the interface. I used dialup for a long time but I guess I’ve blacked that all out because it took me a sadly long time to figure out why they were always congregating around pay phones—duh, because they needed the phone lines lol.

I liked the balance between the Big Storyline, which was fun and decently suspenseful and had a satisfying conclusion, and the more lowkey, let’s fuck around and hang out with these kids and explore their specific subculture. It was good at combining the two also, like the content to annoy the Secret Service agent: that’s part of the larger story line in a tangential way and it’s important for the character development/romance of Crash and Burn, but it was also pretty clearly just an excuse for some fun hacking mini-adventures.

Anyway, I loved it a lot. I could see myself watching it repeatedly for sure.

#the year 2024 #2024: fandom thoughts #2024: movies

[obeymeluv]

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public. 

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.  

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy. 

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm. 

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads. 

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude! 

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.   

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”

#Blurb #Lead-up #Obey me! x reader #Asmodeus x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Satan x Reader #Beelzebub x Reader #Beel x Reader #Belphegor x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Levi x Reader

[outercrasis]

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them. 

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?” 

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.” 

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself. 

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts. 

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar. 

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep. 

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing. 

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like. 

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift. 

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu. 

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

.

.

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taglist: @honestly-shite​ @booksarekindaneat​ @wonderless-screwup​ @pinkninja200​ @captain-jebi​ @ajeff855​ @leias-rebelion​ 

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

[sxfik]

I have an idea!

Ok so we all know that Hanseo is abused by his big brother, and if i remember correctly, the jipuragi trio found out about it from the guillotine file for the first time.

Now hear me out, what if the jipuragi trio found out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, not from the guillotine file??

After failing to burn down geumga plaza, Hanseok threw that object at Hanseo, telling him not to dodge it, and it left a scar on his forehead. When Hanseo visited jipuragi, he seemed proud of that scar, right?? Because thats what he got from saving geumga plaza, and he hoped that the scar would show them that he wants to be on their side.

BUT lets forget about all those stuff for a moment.

Hanseok loves to strangle, threaten, and hit Hanseo with the hockey stick. It certainly happens more than once, so i figured that there must be a bunch of scars and bruises on his body right?? What if the jipuragi trio noticed one of his scars/bruises?? I know Hanseo always wear long-sleeved stuff, so its not exactly visible, but what if someone caught a glimpse of it??? Perhaps the scar/bruise was on his arm???

Maybe when Hanseo visits jipuragi, Vincenzo asks him to wash some coffee mugs, and as Hanseo is rolling up his sleeves...

"yo whats that on your arm??"

And maybe Hanseo is like "thats a bruise..? Do you not know what a bruise is??"

Okay, idk. I have no idea how he's gonna react if that happens. I just feel like Hanseo wouldnt be proud of his scars if he didnt get them from trying to save geumga/jipuragi people.

And now im just wondering, what do you think? How would Hanseo react, in your opinion? If the jipuragi trio really did find out about the abuse from Hanseo himself, how would that affect their relationship? Im really curious about what you think

Hhhhhhhh sorry if its too long. I just thought that this might be a good way for Hanseo and jipuragi to kinda get closer with each other...

han seo headcanons (part one)

helloooo, thank you for sending an ask in :D

SORRY this answer is super long and for some reason my phone isn't allowing me to add a keep reading cut thingy, apologies in advance to the amount scrolling you have to do

tw: abuse

i've been thinking so much about this ask and just how han-seo would react to them finding out, and honestly i never really took note of how many long sleeved shirts he wears. i believe han-seok has switched a lot more into emotional manipulation and abuse than physical abuse but he has a lot of anger issues. i'd honestly imagine him using han seo as a punching bag for any and every inconvinence that happens to him, even as an intern.

i also agree with you, han seo is someone who is a very bright personality who tends to hide his hurt and emotions, and he's very very good at it as he has been living under a psychopath his whole life. he's good at hiding his anger (although it definetly bubbles over in smaller outbursts) and especially his hurt (i.e. the scene that han seok throws that candle holder at him and he just smiles back). han seo has a lot of anger at himself for not speaking back or being able to act like himself. like in that scene in the office, you can tell as he curls his fist that he wanted to speak back so badly. even when he finally snaps against han seok, he said "i'm getting tired of being afraid of you." i feel like he'd be embarrassed that even after years, he hasn't been able to escape his abuse

next>

(you can also read the following on ao3)

i feel like this scene and their dynamic would play out something similar to this:

han seo joined the team and has been working with vincenzo and cha-young for around a month. at this point han seo isn't walking on eggshells with both of them, he's a lot more comfortable and visiting their office regularly without choi/han/han seok finding out.

sometimes it's vincenzo and cha-young providing him books to study economics from, maybe even giving some brotherly/sisterly advice to him. every couple weeks, vin and cha-young give him quizzes and slowly, he's getting better and better

over time, he even got closer to the plaza residents (even though the residents were definetly cold to him in the beginning, miri scaring the shit out of him by doing her ghost thing, the lady with the lipstick from bye bye balloon staring him down, snack bar lady refusing to serve him, larry also scaring the shit out of him by doing his zombie routine)

but despite this, they adopt him into their family, han seo doing small errands for the residents, him buying the best coffee, food and getting camera equipment for the snack bar lady's son. han seo gifting the pawnshop couple with cute baby items etc.

(obviously he buys the most expensive shit bc he's still a rich boy, but they dont have to know)

(side note: he'd be fucking adorable with a baby, imagine him being the babies "uncle han seo" who gets them the best gifts !!)

even though he was comfortable with all of them, every once in a while his facade would slip.

every once in a while, someone would make a sharp movement towards him and he'd flinch. or if someone makes a quick step towards him, he'd back up and stiffen up on instinct

even if it was someone patting his back or just making a quick movement, he'd react on instinct from the years of abuse from han seok. but no one ever said anything about it if they noticed.

one afternoon after lunch, they were washing dishes, han seo on washing duty and cha-young drying and placing them back. and han seo was in his full sleeves and cha-young notices his sleeves getting wet

"yah, roll your sleeves back, by the end of this your whole sleeve will be wet! you know how uncomfortable those sleeves would be?"

"ahaha, it's alright noona, i'll be fine"

han seo tries to laugh it off, grining at her with one of his wide grins but there's something off about this one. but cha-young gives one of her patented glares and he rolls them up carefully, shielding his arms from her view, and continues washing the rest.

cha-young doesn't take note of his bruises at first, but noted the care he went through to shield his arms from her. his arms were posed almost awkwardly and he was on high alert

it wasn't until after they both finished and he was drying his hands that cha-young saw the massive bruises he had, climbing up his forearms and under the sleeves

he stiffens when he sees her stare, and quickly tries to cover them but she grabs them before he could hide it

she's completely quiet while she stares at his arms. after a moment, he speaks up

"oh i accidentally banged these against my doorway, they're just small bruises. it's go away in a couple days" he smiles at her again but she could tell from the way his shoulders were frozen and the wavering of his voice that it wasn't the truth

"did he do these?" she asked him, her face completely neutral and her voice barely a whisper. she's still looking at his forearms, her fingers ghosting over the bruises.

han seo just looks down and the silence is enough of an answer for cha-young. he walks away, embarrassed that she found out about it, even though his years of therapy told him that it wasn't never his fault, he still felt the shame and anger of not being able to break free.

he's quiet for the rest of the time, feigning tiredness and finding an excuse to leave the plaza

that night, it was just vincenzo and her working at the office late, in preparation for babel. cha-young's mind was still on what she saw that afternoon. abruptly, she stands up, her hand gripping the pen in her hand as she turned to vincenzo sitting at the other desk.

"did you know that bastard hurt him? he's been abusing han seo this whole time?" she asked vincenzo, her voice seething with anger

"i know."

"you know??? why didn't you ever say anything?"

vincenzo looks up at her from his stack of papers, setting his pen down.

"it wasn't my place. i picked up on it when he flinched when mr. tak reached toward him to place a hand on his shoulder."

cha-young sat back down then, her lips pressed together, and vin went back to his paperwork

"we should get him out of there. who knows what han seok would do in one of his rages?"

"couple nights ago, we went to drink makgeolli and i offered him a way out. i told him if he ever needs to leave, and if he's ready to leave, he has a place at the plaza."

"and is he? leaving that is?"

"no. he thanked me, but said that he needed to stay until his brother and his group crumbles to the ground."

cha-young let out a sigh, biting her lip, the worry on her face all too evident

"hong cha-young byeonosa-nim, we shouldn't baby him. jang han seo deserves revenge against his brother just like we do and the choice is ultimately up to him."

"i know. i just worry."

they stayed quiet for the rest of the night, working late but the topic never leaves cha-young or vincenzo's minds

the next day, han seo avoided her like the plague, not wanting to talk about what she saw yesterday

but while he was studying, she approached him, a glass of juice and a snack in hand, setting it next to him. she checked over his work quietly as he took a break and glanced at his arms, doing a once over just to make sure he didn't get any new ones.

"well done, han seo, you're doing well" she smiled at him and ruffled his hair and han seo let out a breath of relief and gratefulness that she hadn't treated him any different

from then, cha-young and vin only got fonder of han seo and han seo was pretty much adopted by them. after the battle and han seok is in jail permanently, he moves out of his apartment, and gets one closer to the plaza.

mr. nam would show him how the organization worked at jipuragi and put him to work, the paralegal grateful to have an extra hand around the office

eventually, even han seo grows an affection to the instant coffee and buys more for himself and his apartment

vin would take him shopping for suits, both rich boys obsessed with their sleek looks. they take cha-young with them once but she manages to sleep off at every shop they go to.

vincenzo also plays hockey with him regularly and the plaza invites him to plaza game nights. they get up to all kinds of mischief,

han seo loves spicy food, just like cha-young so they make it their mission to go to try every restaurant and compete to see just how much spice they can handle. obviously vincenzo doesn't even make it past the first round of the spice competitions but cha-young and han seo have the same competitive streak that keeps them going

han seo is also dropping hints to both of cha-young and vincenzo that they should get married. constantly teasing vincenzo about cha-young in the way only younger brothers do

obviously on one of cha-young and han seo’s days out, han seo drops hints CONSTANTLY, trying to get her to admit cha young likes vincenzo

and OBVIOUSLY she slips up, and han seo doesn’t let go of it

he does the whole younger brother teasing every single time he catches cha-young glancing at vincenzo at the firm

“cha-young noona and vin hyung, sitting in a tree. K I S S I N—” “HAN SEO!!!”

obviously chayenzo eventually get together but decide to keep it a secret (and of course, they were awful at it)

eventually when they reveal it to the office, mr. nam and han seo react like that one scene in suspicious partner (“quick, act surprised” “*gasp* you guys are together??????? we had no idea!!”)

han seo is basically adopted as a younger brother to both cha-young and vincenzo and even the plaza loves his presence and he gets to have a peaceful existence for the rest of his life

anyways han seo deserves a happy ending with a good family. he deserves a second chance with a family that LOVES AND CARES FOR HIM AND GIVES HIM CHOICES AND ALLOWS HIM TO BE HIMSELF. (and yes this covered more than just one scene but I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS ON HIM) as always feel free to add on :D

#yes han seo calls her noona #they’re attached at the hip okay #both of them are chaos machines #literally vin cha young and han seo are the definetion of *too much energy* *too much energy* *calm* #mine #vincenzo #vincenzo cassano #chayenzo #hong cha young #song joong ki #tvn vincenzo #jeon yeo been #vincenzo x cha young #jang han seo #jang han seok #kwak dong yeon #ok taecyeon

[introvertguide]

The Road Movie

Most movies follow a general script type depending on genre, and this is used to tell a story that has a satisfying ending. It is interesting when a movie mixes up type and tone and goes against genre type. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it is terrible. Great directing and acting can make the subversion of expectations less jarring (or more depending on the end goal), but the end goal and tone allows us to attach a film to a genre. But what about films that aren't about the end goal? There are many films that are in a sub-genre that focus on the journey with little regard to the end goal. These are what are called "road movies" and can fall under many different genres since the end goal doesn't really matter. Let's address some famous road movies through the years that are also classified in a variety of other genres:

Huckleberry Finn (1931)

The OG of travel films, this was the sequel to Tom Sawyer (1930) and had the same child actors. This wasn't what you would call financially successful, but this was largely due to the Great Depression. The 1939 version of the movie did a lot better and was one of the well known films of child actor Mickey Rooney. This story of travel was an early role for many actors including Rooney, Ron Howard, and Elijah Wood. Although there were threats of death and portrayals of slavery, this film was considered a family adventure in the pre-code film era. I guess a boy escaping his abusive father in the company of an adult escaped slave where people are actively attempting to rob and kill them was considered a fun family romp in the early 30s. This was the same story that came from a book that was banned in schools during the 1980s. It is a great story and I love the works of Mark Twain; I am just surprised at the genre.

Stagecoach (1939)

This is a great movie that transcends the Western genre of which it is categorized. A group of people all have different reasons for traveling from an Arizona territory over to New Mexico. There is word of vengeful thieves and angry Apaches that threaten the small band of travelers. It is actually very intense because the threat feels very real throughout the film. The entire film focuses on the journey and the relationships forged (and broken) on the way. This was the breakout role for John Wayne and was part of an amazing string of films directed by John Ford and starring John Wayne.

Easy Rider (1969)

This is a film that really spoke to the hippie movement during the Vietnam Era. It is statement on how difficult it is to truly be free and how society fears that freedom and tries to destroy it. The film might very well have the worst dialogue of any movie I have ever seen. Actors Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper were actively using drugs throughout film production, so the real draw was the sweet rides and the moving soundtrack. This is a movie where I actually want more driving montages and less character development because I don't identify with the characters at all. Maybe it is a generational gap.

Paper Moon (1973)

This film is amazing. It is the story of a traveling grifter who takes a little girl on the road with him after her mother dies. He teaches her how to make a living cheating people and they form a father-daughter type of relationship. It is a comedy drama that won the girl an Oscar for best supporting actress when she was only 10. Some nice back story, the girl is Tatum O'Neal and is the actual daughter of the grifter, played by Ryan O'Neal. It is kind of strange, but this is a "coming of age" film on the road.

The Blues Brothers (1980)

Now this is what I am talking about. Two brothers go on a trip after being released from jail because they got a message from God. I am pretty sure that this film still holds the record for most crashed vehicles in a single movie. It is also interesting that the film is technically a musical. The brothers stop at different locations and songs break out. In between stops, they are chased by the police in an almost demolition derby style chase. I really enjoy this movie and believe that it really keeps a fast pace (literally and figuratively), but, like many road films, I can't say it is good because it is more of an experience than a story.

Thelma and Louise (1991)

This was an interesting twist on the "run from the law" type of film. Two women are friends and decide go on a weekend retreat. They get in trouble after killing a man who tries to assault them and have to run from the authorities. It has a reputation for being very feminist (despite being directed by accused mesogenist Ridley Scott) because of the negative portrayal of men. It obviously wasn't that bad since it was nominated for 6 Oscars including both leads for best actress. In fact, Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon were both nominated for best actress at the Academy Awards, the BAFTAs, and the Golden Globes. It is the quintessential road film since the end goal is constantly changing and best defined as "away from here."

Natural Bork Killers (1994)

This was kind of a strange film. It is a crime drama where the audience follows two killers with traumatic childhoods as they meet and go on a murder spree. Similar to Bonnie and Clyde, but with gory murders as the focus over bank robberies. It is directed by Oliver Stone, and criticizes the glorification of violence by the media. It is most definitely a road movie because the end goal for the two is simply to be together and enjoy the rush of breaking the law. Hm. It is actually quite a bit like Bonnie and Clyde. Interesting. I would like to make a note that my mom hates this film because of the shaky cam and Dutch angles. It made her feel sick at the theater.

Road Trip (2000)

OK. This is far and away my least favorite film on this list, but it is the most famous "boner road comedy" that I am familiar with. It is a high school/college coming-of-age film that focus on the sexual pursuits of a group of young men. These types of films are marked with gross out humor, gratuitous nudity, and boys trying to have sex. There was a bunch of films like this that came out around the early 2000s and they all had to do with boys traveling some place in search of idealized sex (the plot on this one is a little different, something to do with a sex tape) and generally they find that the best girl for them was there by them all along. It takes a nice idea of character development and throws raunchy jokes and boobs at it. I was not a fan, but it was definitely a thing.

Death Proof (2007)

This is much better shlock. It is the Tarantino version of exploitation grindhouse films of the seventies, but updated to be a women empowerment film. It was part of a double feature that was paired with a horrific zombie outbreak film directed by Rod Rodriguez, but this one is much better on its own. It is the story of an old stunt man who travels around looking for unsuspecting victims whom he can run down in his indestructible car. This is a great example of what a road movie can be because Tarantino took the concept of a slasher and put it completely on the road.

Mad Max Fury Road (2015)

Here is an action revenge film in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where most of the film is driving. The producers couldn't find a director who they trusted with remaking George Miller's Mad Max franchise so the 70 year old Miller said "hold my beer" and made this masterpiece that is arguably better than any of the first three (edit: I guess Miller always intended to direct but it took so long to go into production that he joked in interviews about giving up on it). The original trilogy with Mel Gibson presents an amazing world where most people are nomadic and traveling can be a life or death proposition. Fury Road is the further adventures of the character and his interaction with one Furiosa. The use of many practical effects on moving vehicles that was garnished with CG effects made for one of the best action films in the last decade. It was more than a simple movie about traveling; it was a land were the road was life and everything surrounded the ability to be mobile enough to get supplies in a dead world.

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

This is by no means all of the road movies. The Wizard of Oz is technically a road movie. The Grapes of Wrath is a critically acclaimed road movie from around the same time. Comedies like The Cannonball Run, Smokey and the Bandit, and National Lampoon's Vacation can all be classified in the genre. Rain Man is one of the best films of all time and it can be classified as a road movie. What it comes down to is that, when considering characters, a writer should think about the journey itself and think of how the leads interact with this entity. The road might be the best character in the whole story.

#road movies #thelma and louise #stagecoach #huck finn #mad max fury road #death proof #road trip #natural born killers #the blues brothers #paper moon #easy rider #introvert #introverts

[obwjam]

“I watched you from the walls for years, you really can’t embarrass yourself further in front of me.” With Scott Lang please :)

“I watched you from the walls for years, you really can’t embarrass yourself further in front of me.”

yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes A THOUSAND TIMES YES

from this post

———————————————————————

Times were tough at the Lang residence. Scott wasn’t allowed to leave the house, his daughter was only allowed to visit on weekends, and worst of all, he worried about his future. How could an ex-con like him find work again? How could he possibly put behind everything he had been through in Germany? Often times, he sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, TV off, staring blankly at the wall.

Other times, he danced.

He wasn’t very good at it, but hey, who was watching? Scott would rev up his ever-growing 80s playlist, crank his speakers up to ten and let his arms flail and his legs go wild. For an hour and forty-six minutes, he would dance and sing and act out fight scenes he had choreographed in his head until he was just about ready to pass out.

Today was an especially stressful day. Cassie was sick and didn’t want to come, so for the first Saturday afternoon in a while, Scott was alone. There really wasn’t anything good on TV, and he had a nightmare the night before. If the good vibes wouldn’t come to him, he would make them himself.

He was maybe an hour into the playlist when he closed his eyes, spun around on one socked foot, struck a pose, and opened his eyes to the most confusing sight he had ever seen.

You were, in a word, fascinated with this human. For whatever reason, he never left the house anymore, which made borrowing close to impossible, but he was boisterous and goofy and just the right amount of weird. Eating cereal and crying at black and white Spanish movies at 10 p.m. was not normal human behavior, but it was normal for this one.

The dancing was especially entertaining. It was like a free show every day. The music was catchy and you had learned the words. Sometimes, you even danced with him. You discovered this crack in the old wood that allowed you to sit in its threshold and observe the human.

You were so caught up in the music that when Scott’s eyes landed on you, it took you a few seconds to realize what was going on.

Though Scott was staring right at you, he still couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. A tiny person? In his house? He squinted — no, it wasn’t Hank or Hope. They didn’t appear to be wearing a suit, either. Just some makeshift clothing. Was this a new Avenger with shrinking powers, sent to spy on him? Was it the government?

For some reason, you weren’t very scared. Years of watching the human from afar told you that he was a very relaxed person. He wasn’t overly excitable and didn’t seem to have a malicious bone in his body. You certainly didn’t mean to be seen, but it also didn’t seem like the worst possible thing that could have happened. It almost felt inevitable.

Scott stared at you, mouth agape and a thousand thoughts swirling around his mind like a hurricane. He realized he was still stuck in a ridiculous pose, so he put his arms back to his side and straightened himself. He should have figured there were real-life tiny people. Why else would Hank want to build shrinking technology?

You were staring back, mouth also agape and equally fascinated by what was in front of you. But Scott didn’t think you’d break the ice, so it was up to him.

“Um... hi,” Scott said, awkwardly giving a small wave. “What are you doing in my house?”

You tilted your head. For a human, he didn’t seem to be very surprised at what he was seeing. You lifted your arm and grabbed onto the wood for support as you spoke up. “Uh... I live here.”

“You live here? Last time I checked, I live here. Oh, no, they didn’t take my house away, did they?”

“What?” you blurted. “Who’s they?”

“Woo didn’t send you here, did he?”

“Woo? Woo who?”

“Jeez, you don’t need to act so excited about it.”

“Hold up!” you yelled, throwing your hands up. Scott pressed his lips together. “What... what are you talking about?”

“You’re government, aren’t you? Here to keep tabs on me, make sure I’m not breaking the Accords?”

“Government?” You blinked in disbelief. “You think I work for the government?”

“Well...” Scott started to attempt an explanation, but couldn’t really find one. “Why else would you be here?”

“I told you. I live here.”

“...so you’re not government.”

“Oh brother,” you mumbled to yourself, taking an exasperated seat. “Um. No?”

“...You wouldn’t happen to be an Avenger, would you?”

“An Avenger? Am I missing something here?”

“Well excuse me for trying to come up with an explanation as to why there’s someone sitting on my wall who’s two inches tall!”

“Hey, I’m four inches, thank you very much,” you scoffed.

Scott ran a hand through his hair. This wasn’t going very well at all. You sighed and took a breath. You could understand why he’d be so flustered.

“No, I’m not government. Or an Avenger. I’m just... a regular borrower.”

Scott stared at you blankly, trying to piece together what a borrower could be, before it dawned on him and his eyes went wide. “Oh wow. You’re really just that small!”

“I didn’t think that was even in question.”

“Gosh, sorry, that’s really embarrassing of me.” He let out a laugh. “An Avenger. What was I thinking?”

His laugh made you laugh. “I watched you from the walls for years, you really can’t embarrass yourself further in front of me.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve done a lot of embarrassing things in my life. Being put in a maximum security prison’s definitely up there. I’m used to small jails, you know?”

You gave him a quizzical stare.

“This ankle monitor is pretty bad, too, though I— wait a second. Did you say you’ve been watching me for years? ”

You gulped. You thought he either didn’t hear that part or didn’t care.

“I—um, I mean, I was just — I was speaking metaphorically—”

Scott’s expression immediately softened. “Woah, hey, I’m not mad!” He realized he was gazing down at you, and he lowered himself ever so slightly to be at your eye level. Now, he could see the way you gripped the wall protectively. “I’m just... confused. What do you mean you’ve watched me from the walls?”

“It means I live in your walls!” you cried, not realizing how shaky your voice had gotten. You steadied your breathing before continuing. “That’s what borrowers do. We live in the walls of houses.”

“Like mice?”

You sniffed a laugh. “Yes, like mice. Which I help keep away from here, mind you. When was the last time you saw a mouse around here?”

“Oh, gosh, I can’t even remember. Years ago.” You smirked and raised your eyebrow, and once it clicked, Scott’s eyes lit up.

“That’s so cool!” Scott smiled. You knew he was a quirky human, but even you were a bit surprised at how nonchalant he was being. “Do you use those little toothpicks that look like a sword?”

“There are toothpicks that look like swords?”

“Oh yeah!” Scott grinned. “They’d be perfectly your size, actually.”

“Huh. Y’know, that might actually be helpful to shoo away beetles and spiders.”

Scott grimaced. He had gotten used to ants, but spiders is where he drew the line. “Oh, gross.”

“It’s just a part of the job,” you shrugged. There was an awkward pause before you spoke again. “I, um. I’m sorry for startling you.”

“No, no,” Scott shook his head, “I’m sorry for making you listen to the same music all the time!”

“No, it’s fine, I... I actually kinda like it,” you blushed. “Usually, borrowers keep themselves hidden. Most humans aren’t as... entertaining as you.”

Scott smiled, not even realizing that maybe that wasn’t a compliment. It felt exhilarating just to have a face-to-face conversation with someone who wasn’t his family or was legally obligated to talk to him.

“You wanna come to the living room?” he asked suddenly. You furrowed your brow. “It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on that ledge.”

“Well, I can’t exactly sit on the couch,” you said slowly, meekly gesturing at yourself with your head.

“You can sit on the table, it’s fine! I’ve got snacks.”

“Snacks...” you repeated. Even though this went against every single borrower code you knew of, it felt stupid to pass up this offer. If the human wasn’t going to hurt you, then why not make him your ally?

“Sure, why not,” you said finally, standing up. Scott couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“Here,” he said, standing back up to his full height and sticking his hand out in front of you. “I can carry you there!”

“Oh...” you said, staring at the hand hesitantly. “I can just walk, you know—”

“Psh! That’ll take too long. Trust me.” You didn’t know why he would know anything about that, but frankly, his weird choice of words was the last thing on your mind. Scott took notice. “Oh, you’re... sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. It’s just right across the hall, we don’t have to go far at all. It’ll be fine.”

You gave him a skeptical look, but at this point, you didn’t have much of a choice. This is what you wanted, anyway.

“I guess this is the one drawback,” you muttered, keeping a firm grip on the wall as you lowered yourself onto his palm. “Humans can’t take no for an answer.”

“What was that?”

“Oh, uh, I—I said. Quite the view from up here.”

“Hah, yeah, I know!”

There it is again, you thought. That weird choice of words.

The trip to the living room was, as promised, short. You were only in his hand for about 15 seconds before you hopped off onto the familiar sight of the coffee table. The bowl of peanuts and candy was filled to the brim, as usual, but you supposed you should act like you’ve never been here before.

“So,” Scott said, reaching into the bowl and popping some M&M’s into his mouth before flopping onto the couch. “What’s your name? I bet you already know mine.”

“I’m (Y/n),” you said, eyeing the bowl. “Can I...”

“Oh, go ahead!” Scott smiled. He watched in delight as you grabbed a peanut that was larger than a football. You bit into it like an apple, and Scott could hardly suppress his grin.

“This is amusing for you?” you asked with a smirk. Scott immediately shook his head, but the smile was still present. “Yeah, I guess I probably look hilariously small to you.”

“Well... only a little.” Scott leaned back into the couch cushion. “So you’ve really been inside my walls this whole time and I had no idea?”

“Yup,” you said with a mouthful of peanut. “Been here for a long time.”

“How do you even live? Eat? Bathe?!”

You turned your gaze to the table. “You won’t like the answer.”

Scott thought about it for a moment, but it didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. “Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah,” you blushed. “But it’s either take crumbs off your counter or starve, so. I choose not to starve.”

“Well, you’re welcome to have dinner with me from now on. I cook just for myself anyway, it’ll be nice to have some company.”

“About that... why are you here all the time? You used to only be here at night.”

Scott sighed deeply. “It’s a long story.”

He seemed uncharacteristically upset about that, so you cleared your throat and pivoted back to what he was saying before. “You’d really let me eat with you?”

“Sure, why not?” Scott seemed genuinely surprised that you would even ask.

“I mean, this has gotta seem a little... weird to you, does it not? In fact, I — well, there are a lot of stories about humans discovering borrowers, and they’re not often pleasant. You... you don’t really seem to care.”

Scott pursed his lips. “That’s another long story.”

“Oh.” Jeez, what is up with this guy?

“I mean, if you’ve really been... in my walls all this time...” He shuddered before continuing. “Then you know how lonely it’s been around here. Heck, it probably gets really lonely all by yourself in the walls, too.”

You nodded.

“Well, I’ve got a lot of questions for you, and I know you’ve got a lot for me... I won’t force you to stay if you don’t want to, but I think — it might be nice to get to know each other, right?”

You gave Scott an almost incredulous look. Maybe all those human tales were just old folk stories of days past, meant to scare children into staying close to home. You were hardly nervous that Scott had any malicious intent. You just almost couldn’t believe this was happening.

“What about your daughter? Isn’t she supposed to be coming this weekend? I’d rather her, uh, not see me.”

Scott sat up a bit. “You know about Cassie?”

“Um. Lived here for years, remember?”

“Right, right. Uh, n-no, no, she’s sick, she’s not coming. Huh.” Scott shook his head. “Wow. You must know, like, everything about me, then.”

Your face flushed red. “I mean, yes and no. I don’t just sit and stare at you to pass the time. It’s-it’s actually pretty strange for me too. We’re not supposed to talk to humans. It’s kind of the big number one rule.”

“What normally happens?”

“Well.” You paused, looking up at Scott’s expectant face. It was hard to hold eye contact, and your gaze flickered back to the table. “It’s a long story.”

Scott huffed a laugh. “I get it. Looks like we both have our own baggage.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Look, if you wanna... go back into that hole in the wall, you can. I told you, I won’t make you stay. But the offer is always there. I’m probably just gonna order a pizza tonight. You ever had pizza?”

You pursed your lips. Should you really be telling him all the things you’ve stolen from right under his nose?

Scott sighed. Maybe this wasn’t the weirdest thing for him, but he knew he couldn’t say the same for you. Your sideways glances had grown increasingly nervous ever since he brought you to the living room. You carried yourself well, but it was clear you were uneasy about all of this.

Wordlessly, Scott placed his hand down in front of you. He frowned when you winced at it.

“It’s quicker if I just bring you back,” he said sheepishly.

You picked your half-eaten peanut off the table and cleared your throat. “I-I’m sorry. I think I underestimated how odd this would feel. You... you’re just, really different than the human I lived with growing up. In a good way.”

Scott smiled weakly. “Just wait ��til you get to know me.”

You laughed as you climbed onto his hand. You sat down for balance as he stood up, unable to take his eyes off you. You stared straight ahead as he took the short journey back, and in a few moments, you were right back where you started.

Staring at each other.

“Well (Y/n), it was nice—”

“You know,” you said, raising your voice to cut him off. “I have had pizza before. But I’ve never tried ice cream.”

Scott gasped. “Never had ice cream?! Lucky for you, I’ve got some chocolate in the freezer— oh. Oh! You... you want to have some dessert later?”

You smiled amusingly. “You catch on quick.”

“Yeah, it’s a specialty of mine,” Scott said, stretching his arms in the air. “Gosh, it’s already 7:30. How about ice cream at 9?”

“I, uh, don’t have a clock with me,” you admitted. “Why don’t you just... knock when you’re ready?”

Scott chuckled. “Knocking on the walls to my own house? People’ll start to think I’m crazy.”

You blinked at Scott, Scott blinked at you, and you both burst out laughing. For a moment, you forgot that Scott was a hundred feet tall and he forgot you could fit in his palm. It shouldn’t have been that funny, but it was. It all was.

Scott wiped a tear from his eye and sighed. “Oh, man. Okay. I should order before they close. See you soon?”

You smiled. In between the bad jokes, the awkward silences and the fits of laugher, you decided all this weirdness was worth it.

“Yeah. See you soon, Scott.”

#scott is the nonchalant KING #just so easy to launch into conversation with #nothing like two people who think they should be feeling weird who dont actually feel all that weird #this is all just one big excuse for me to practice dialogue #obwrites #marvel g/t

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Red Roses

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: I wrote this a few weeks ago and gave up on it because I thought it was too messy and too repetitive. But I re-read it yesterday and was surprisingly pleased with it and with its messiness. So here you go.

Credits to Stevie Nicks for some of the words in one paragraph at the end.

Summary: this is my take on the “reader introduces new gf to her family” story, except I decided it should not be cute but angsty

Warnings: homophobia, internalised homophobia, racism

Word count: ~ 5 400

 “Are you ready ?” Wilhemina asked.

You made a face and gave her hand a squeeze. “No? But I don’t think I’ll ever be so let’s just do this.”

“Permission to cane them if they get mean?”

You breathed out a laugh. “Mina, no.”

She gave you a small wicked smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Too bad,” she said in that deep voice that meant someone was in trouble.

“They’re old,” you smiled. “You would break their bones.”

She hummed thoughtfully. You stared down at your linked hands on your lap as you absentmindedly stroked her knuckles. Wilhemina waited a few more seconds, then opened the door of the car and got out.

Well, here goes. You followed her immediately, as she knew you would.

Outside the air was cold and crisp and smelt of the ocean. Every year your family would gather at your grandparents’ house to celebrate Christmas. It was a tradition you dared not break, no matter the toll it took on you. This year, it would just be you, your parents and grandparents.

You stepped closer to Wilhemina as your grandparents appeared at the front door and waved. “Come on in, come on in, it’s so cold!”

“I can smell the ocean from here,” you smiled.

“Yes, but come on in!”

When they closed the door behind you, it felt as if you had just been thrown in jail. They beamed at you, happy and content, as they helped you and Wilhemina take off your coats.

“Welcome! How was the drive? We’re so glad to see you, it’s been too long!”

“I made your favorite cake,” your grandma said with a wink.

“And welcome to you, Y/N’s friend!” your granddad said, opening his arms to Wilhemina.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. Her voice was cold, but not cold enough to set off their reproaches.  

Your grandparents gave her polite smiles as they ran their eyes up and down her body, gazes lingering on her cane for a second too long. Automatically you reached out and brushed her wrist, a small gesture of comfort just in case she needed it.

“Are mum and dad here?” you asked, taking a peek inside the living-room.

“Not yet.”

Your parents had always supported you and knew you and Wilhemina were a couple. They had met her three or four times already, had offered her kind smiles that had grown kinder when they’d noticed the fond look that would soften her eyes every time she’d look at you. But your grandparents – that was quite a different story.

You loved them. You really did. They were kind and affectionate and generous. You hated them. They made you feel so small and dirty.

Here was the thing. Your grandparents had their own definition of what was right and what was wrong, and nothing would change their minds. Their convictions were engraved in marble. They pointed a finger at everyone who dared put a toe out of the norms, and laughed at them and jeered and hated. How they hated. It was a terrible monster, that hatred of them. It was too big and too strong and too dark. It stifled you, clawed at your skin, bullied your heart. And how they adored you. You were the perfect grandchild, polite and kind, educated, always respectful, always so proper. If only they knew – they didn’t know you. They only saw what you had allowed them to see, a masquerade, a very pretty picture in a golden frame.  

You had wanted to keep Wilhemina safe from your grandparents’ toxicity, but the alternative was her spending Christmas on her own. Again. While all around her the world celebrated. You wouldn’t have that – it wasn’t even an option. She had been so alone for so long, and it had hurt her so deeply, so viciously, until loneliness had become so familiar she had mistaken it for home. You had been trying to teach her, one gentle touch at a time, what home really felt like. So this Christmas, she would be loved and cherished.

You carried your and Wilhemina’s bags upstairs to the spare room you would sleep in. Wilhemina rolled her eyes at the twin beds. You shot her a sheepish smile.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She shook her head. “No need to apologize.”

“We can put the beds closer after I tell them about us.”

You wouldn’t get to sleep in that room, part of you knew that. Your grandparents would kick you out like the reminder of a shameful memory as soon as they learnt about Wilhemina and you.

You picked up one of the pillows, so soft and comfortable, expensive pillows that had been carefully chosen for the comfort of loved ones, and stroked it absentmindedly. Your eyes veiled over.

You had been so happy in this house. There had been so much love and joy, so much sunshine. But you had never really been yourself in this house.

Wilhemina slipped one arm around your waist and pressed your back against her chest. A soft kiss on the nape of your neck. You leaned back into her, eyes fluttering closed, gathering strength from her warmth. She gave you so much of it, every day.

“Are you okay, little one?”

You hummed, turned in her arms to look at her. You poked her cheek. “Never better.”

Your parents arrived half an hour later, and your grandma immediately ushered you all in the kitchen for lunch. Cooking was how she expressed her affection. Her meals were always abundant and delicious. Because she loved you all, so dearly.

“Your house is very lovely,” Wilhemina said as your dad poured the wine.

Your granddad flashed her a smile. “We fled big cities two years ago. Too many freaks, too much filth. We couldn’t stand it anymore.”

Your grandma piled food on your plate, her eyes soft and kind, for she loved you so dearly. Your hands were shaking.

“We are being invaded,” your granddad was saying. “In two years my neighbours will be a couple of fags or a family of black people. And the government is doing nothing to stop it. When I look around, I cannot recognize my own country.”

You fidgeted with your fork, unable to eat, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. Several times before, you had heard Wilhemina complain about how “worthless” part of the world population was. You had seen her look down on people and snarl at them for merely existing.

You stole a glance at her. And what – your throat closed up – what if she took your grandparents’ side? What if she agreed with them? What if she pulled her chair closer to them, and nodded to what they said, and shared a few laughs with them, and when next she would look at you it would be with scorn and disdain? What if, listening to what they had to say, her eyes finally opened, and she saw you the way you sometimes saw yourself? Freakish, unlovable.

What then?

You shook your head, suddenly angry with yourself. You knew her. You trusted her. She would never think of you like that.

But what if she did?

Your dad laughed loudly, startling you from your thoughts. You met your granddad’s eyes – kind, soft – and offered him a weak smile.

“And how’s your love life, Y/N?” he asked.

Tell them. You had promised it to yourself. You had promised it to Mina. But what if – Lord – what if they were right? What if they had been right all along? What if Wilhemina finally opened her eyes –

“Did you see how the neighbours pruned their apple tree?” your grandma was saying. “It looks hideous now.”

You cleared your throat.

“Uh, guys, I have something to tell you.”

Your heart was beating so fast you were pretty sure it was going to burst any minute now. You couldn’t look at Wilhemina. You had never been more aware of her presence ever since you had met her, her body radiating burning heat that almost threatened to destroy you.

Your grandparents looked up at you expectantly.

Who’s the lucky man? your granddad’s happy eyes asked. Great-grandchildren! your grandmother’s smile beamed. So proud, so satisfied.

You had become ice. Ice that was melting in the fire that was Wilhemina. Your hands were shaking. You wanted to run away so badly.

“Um, so, Wilhemina and I are dating,” you heard yourself say – from very, very far away. The voice wasn’t yours. It echoed in your ears.

Your grandparents didn’t understand.

“We’re dating,” the voice said, “as in we’re together. We’re in love. I love her.” The voice was almost proud. It surprised you.

Your grandparents understood.

This was terrible. This was the worst. The disappointment on their faces, as if you had failed them, as if you had failed to honour your side of the contract. What would they say to their neighbours and friends now? How would they boast about you? When would they get to greet your nice, respectful husband? When would they bounce their great-grandchildren on their knees?  Where were the respectability and the pride and the freaking normal?

You lowered your eyes so you didn’t have to watch as disappointment and pain settled on their faces. You were vaguely aware of the stinging in your eyes and the trembling of your chin. This would not do. You were freezing, ice crystallizing around your heart, to choke it or to protect it you didn’t know. You would break under your grandparents’ gazes and nothing would be left of you. You had failed them.

Warmth. Wilhemina’s hand found yours under the table. She gave it a gentle squeeze, laced her fingers with yours. Warmth, and softness and love.

Your parents weren’t saying a thing. Your dad was staring at his plate, your mum at the ceiling. It broke your heart, their silence. It was like an agreement with what your grandparents’ faces were expressing.

You couldn’t talk either, so you waited, for Wilhemina’s hand to let go of yours as she realized just how pathetic you were, how disgusting, you were disgusting and your love was disgusting and –

“Why are you doing this to us?” your granddad asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Wilhemina wince. “Uh? What did we ever do to you to deserve this?”

How sad he looked. How so terribly broken.

There was the sound of a chair scraping on the floor, and then Wilhemina stood up, slowly and threateningly, eyes half-closed, teeth half-bared. You looked up at her, saw the anger on her face, and mechanically you reached out to stop her. She shouldn’t snap at them. They were right. Couldn’t she see that, see how sad they were, how badly you had hurt them?

Wilhemina looked down at you in surprise. For a second she seemed to be at a loss for what to do. Her mouth opened, but you shook your head, jumped on your feet, and flew out of the room.

It was so very cold outside. You had left without your coat. But the cold felt good. You dived into it.

You couldn’t see very well because of the tears in your eyes, but the sky was white, the earth was wet, and the sand was a faded yellow that was almost grey when your feet sank into it. You hadn’t even realized you had run to the beach.

The tide was low, the ocean quiet, barely any waves, which was funny really because your heart was a storm. You had expected the ocean to be raging.

You sat down on the sand and wrapped your arms around your knees. The chilly wind bit your cheeks. You let the cold sweep through you, let it slip its fingers under your clothes. You took a few deep breaths of the salty air.  

Warmth. A gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You left without your coat, little one,” said Wilhemina, her voice firm but laced with tenderness. “It’s too cold. Here, put it on.”

You didn’t move, so Wilhemina draped your coat over your shoulders. She sat down beside you and you hated the tenderness and the love that clutched your heart for it felt wrong – her love felt wrong. You deserved a slap in the face and a few bitter insults.  

You sank into her nonetheless. You couldn’t help it. You had always been drawn to her like a magnet, and she was always craving your touch.

She wrapped one arm around your shoulders to press you close against her. She was staring fiercely at the ocean, eyes black and angry. You saw her blink several times, her jaw working as if she were gritting her teeth to hold back words. She wasn’t good with words. Communication had always been her weak point. But she always tried, for you.

“Maybe they’re right,” you heard yourself whisper after a while – or maybe it was just the wind, carrying the words from your heart to her ears. “Maybe I am a freak. Maybe I am disgusting and there’s something wrong with me.”

Wilhemina’s face hardened. She held you tighter. “Well then,” she said, very low and very slow, “we are meant to be together. I’m a freak, too.”

“You’re not!” you exclaimed. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not a freak, Mina!”

Her lips curled into a small smile. “Funny you should say that. It’s what I think of you, too. See, maybe we can help each other.”

She turned her head to look at you. Her eyes were big and so painfully honest and loving you felt like dissolving into tears. You bit the inside of your cheek as your face crumpled.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Wilhemina cooed. Her brow pushed up in concern, her hand coming up to hold your chin. She gazed at you, searching your eyes, then leaned in to kiss you.

You couldn’t kiss her right now. It didn’t feel proper – if your lips met, the gods in the sky would roar in wrath and smite you. And what if one of your grandparents’ neighbours or friends saw you? Your family would be so ashamed. You had already hurt them so badly. So you put a hand on Wilhemina’s chest to hold her back, and you saw the pain and the fear flash in her eyes before she blinked them away.

“No, Mina, I –“

She leaned slightly away, blinking, nodding. You told yourself it was the cold wind that made the tears pool in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Wilhemina. You watched her out of the corner of your eye and reached for her hand.

“It’s okay,” she nodded, smiling through her fear.

You gave her hand a squeeze. “I love you,” you whispered, low and anxious, as if it were a shameful secret. As if it should never be uttered loudly. But the ocean captured the words and sent them back to you and her with a loud groan and spray as a wave almost lapped up your feet.

“I love you,” you repeated, louder. You leaned in and planted a peck on her cheek. Nuzzled her skin, breathed her in. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, love. I understand.”

Of course she did. You had seen the harshness in her gaze when she inspected herself in the mirror in the morning. There were days she would not even dare meet her own eyes.

But she was right. You could help each other. For you both knew what the other was worth, and you both were willing to apply love like a balm on the other’s wounds.

It seemed to you the ocean was whispering. What was it? A secret. Come closer. Don’t be afraid. Closer still.

You sagged against Wilhemina. I’d rather stay here on the beach with her, you told the ocean. Where it’s warm and dry and safe. Keep your secret. I don’t want it.

Tentatively, Wilhemina dropped a kiss on your temple. You hummed, to let her know it was okay. You felt her relax slightly against you, and then she whispered in your ear the secret you had refused to hear from the ocean. You didn’t fail them. They failed you.

Without warning you put one hand on the small of her back and your other hand on her shoulder, and gently pushed her so that she was lying on the sand. She met your eyes in surprise, mouth opening in protest but you kissed her silent. You felt her smile into the kiss.

Her lips were cold, but her mouth was warm and so very sweet. One of her hands tangled in your hair and gently stroke the nape of your neck. Your whole body was tingling. There was no way, you thought, no way this could be wrong.

When you pulled away, Wilhemina’s eyes were shining, and she bit down on a smile. “You’re getting sand in my hair,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Tough shit,” you teased. You brushed your mouth against hers, marveling at the warmth and softness of her; your tongue darted out to taste her lower lip, then plunged into her mouth and gently licked her teeth.

Wilhemina held your hand all the way back to your grandparents’ house. You mother was waiting for you by the door. She gave Wilhemina a grateful smile when she saw you were safe and sound.

“Y/N that was quite an over-reaction,” your mum gently scolded.

“Thank you for your input,” Wilhemina snapped. With a hand on your back she guided you inside. “And thank you for speaking up for your daughter earlier,” she spat over her shoulder. You couldn’t hold back the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“Y/N?” came your granddad’s voice from the living-room.

He appeared in the doorway.

And just like that you were freezing again. For he looked so sad, so very broken – his anger would’ve been alright, you could stand up to anger, but this look, this terrible look on his face that suggested his whole world had just come apart – you froze. Instinctively you leaned away from Wilhemina, hating yourself for doing so.  

Your granddad took a tentative step towards you. “Can we talk this over? Surely if we talk this over, you’ll change your mind.”

Wilhemina’s hand on your back felt like molten metal. You had to force yourself not to squirm away from her touch. It wasn’t right, your granddad’s expression told you. It wasn’t natural for her to love you like that.

Your body leaned towards him and further away from Wilhemina. Did she notice? Please don’t let her notice. But she did, and you saw her square her shoulders to look taller like an animal sensing a threat.

“Come on, love,” she said, giving your back a gentle push.

Your granddad’s eyes fell on her. “Where are you going?”

“We’re leaving,” Wilhemina answered in a cold but calm voice. “Our destination is none of your business.”

“And you think Y/N’s gonna come with you?” A laugh, of genuine surprise.”We’ve spent every Christmas since she was born together. We’re family.”

Wilhemina’s fingers on your back stuttered. Her eyes widened, oh, just a bit, just the slightest bit, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know her as well as you did.

“Christmas,” your granddad went on, his face growing more and more animated, “is for family and love. What do you have to offer her, apart from depravity and deceit? Did you really think,” here he laughed again – genuine surprise again, so much worse than hatred, “that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?”, with a glance at her cane, incredulous, pitifying, almost amused.

He was good, you had to give him that. He knew exactly where to scratch so it would hurt the most. But he had also made a mistake. He could abuse you all he wanted, but Wilhemina was off limits. She was sacred ground, never to be sullied by anyone.

“She’s family,” you groaned, raising your chin defiantly, “and I love her.”

Your granddad scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Please, you’ve seen her – or maybe you haven’t, and that’d explain why you agreed to date her. Come on, come sit with us, let us talk, let us help you –“

“Just, stop talking.” You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth, trying to curb the anger that was rising inside you – hot, red, like lava. “Stop talking, and leave me alone.”

Only now did you realize that Wilhemina hadn’t said a word for too long. No snide comebacks, no insults. You glanced at her. Her face was hard and blank, but her eyes were veiled, and you knew that look. There was the glaze she always hid herself behind when she was afraid and hurting. Like that Sunday morning at the farmer’s market, when she and you had been browsing a flower stall, bright pink orchids, red and yellow tulips, green buds, and that old woman behind you in the line had made a disparaging remark about “cripples”, loud enough for Wilhemina to hear.  

You reached for her hand on your back and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Mina, let’s go.”

Your granddad called after you as you stomped up the stairs, Wilhemina’s hand still in yours, but you ignored him. Your body was tingling with a strange mix of anger, fear and relief. You walked into the spare room, picked up your bag and Wilhemina’s – there had been no time to unpack – and turned towards the door. Wilhemina was staring at you, her left arm crossed over her stomach in a hug, her brow slightly pulled down in thought.

“If you’d rather stay here with them –“she started.

“I don’t,” you cut her off firmly.

“I don’t want to get between you and the people you love.”

You heard the pain in her voice, so you dropped your bag on the floor, walked up to her and cupped her face. “Don’t let his words get to you,” you said, tilting her head to make her meet your eyes.”They were lies. You know that. I love you.”

Her eyes locked with yours, wide and begging for reassurance.

Please, you know better than that. You’re so smart, did you really think that she meant it when she said she could love someone like you?

Footsteps on the stairs, your grandma’s voice – how much she loved you. How very much she wanted to be proud of you.

Wilhemina’s eyes reflected the hesitation she saw in yours, and it spread and spread and spread until it threatened to darken the whole room like the falling of night.

“I love you,” you repeated, voice strangled, fingers trembling on her skin.

Oh please – they’re family.

And it was the same fear, the very same fear that was pulsing in both your veins – freakish, unlovable. Your lips curled in a soft smile at the exact moment your grandma entered the room.

With your free hand in Wilhemina’s, her pulse and your pulse drumming between your palms, you walked past your grandma, down the stairs and down the hall, towards the front door, and when you opened it you could have sworn you heard the call of the ocean, singing “come away”.

Wilhemina was half crying, half laughing nervously as she fumbled in her bag for the car keys, hands shaking, so you cupped her face again, kissed her, her mouth, her cheeks, kissed her tears until she could breathe easier. And you heard someone behind you gasp, and someone else curse in the same voice the old woman had used that day at the farmer’s market, when Wilhemina’s fingers had stuttered over the flowers.

A sob pushed out of her throat, a jingle of keys as they fell to the floor; Wilhemina bent down to pick them up, but she couldn’t see well enough through her tears. You picked up the keys for her and opened the car.

Before you got in, you turned and faced your family. When you spoke your voice was firm and hard, a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. “I will sit with you, and we will talk, when you’re ready to apologise,” you growled, staring into your granddad’s eyes, then your grandma’s. You slammed the door of the car, just to make a point.

You drove. A little bit above the speed limit, on winding narrow roads that crossed small, sleepy villages. You had driven almost twenty miles when you realized you had no idea where you were going.

You glanced at Wilhemina. She was staring out the window, her face blank, but at least that veil had lifted from her eyes. When you focused on the road again, you spotted a sign that read a familiar name.

“Let’s go there,” you said. Wilhemina didn’t react. “You’ll like the place.”

The place in question was a small fishermen village surrounded by fields, with a narrow pier and a wide beach that stretched for more than half a mile before it abruptly ended on an expanse of rocks covered with seaweeds. You had come here countless times with your family as a child, to sit on the pier with your feet dangling above the water and ice cream dripping between your fingers.

Today the water was as grey as the sky. You reached for Wilhemina’s hand and led her down the coastal path that weaved among the dunes.  

“I have so many happy memories linked to this place,” you whispered, barely louder than the wind. “Now I want to make one with you.”

Wilhemina let out a small, pejorative laugh.

You shot her a sideways look. “What?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, then straightened your shoulders and pointed at something in front of you. “Look.”

There, half-hidden behind a swell of the dunes, rose the ruins of what must have been a manor house, but was now a clustered mess of broken walls from which four seagulls flew out with angry cries. A small stream spurted out from between two stones and flowed lazily across the beach to be soaked up by the sand right before it met the ocean.  

Wilhemina stopped in her tracks and let out a surprised puff of air.

“I told you you’d like it,” you smiled. “Doesn’t it look so very Victorian?”

With a clumsy curtsey you extended one arm towards the ruins. “Would Miss Wilhemina accompany me on a tour of Netherfield Hall?”

Wilhemina’s face lit up with a smirk.

The place was rather tricky for her to navigate with her cane, but she didn’t complain. You and her stepped over the bits of wood and the stones that littered the sand, falling into a comfortable and slightly awed silence. There was something so solemn, and a bit impressive, about those ruins, like walking in a silent church.

Wilhemina stopped in a doorway that led into a small, square room. “What is this room?” she asked in a haughty voice.

You assumed a proud expression. “The library. See all my books? Folks come from all across the country to admire them. I have the largest collection.”

“All I can see is you have very bad taste,” Wilhemina quipped as she turned on her heel and walked away. You laughed and followed her into the next room, of which only one wall remained. It opened on the ocean.  

“Careful!” you screamed, pointing at a brown seaweed on the sand. “There’s a banana skin on the mahogany floor!”

Wilhemina snorted, then assumed a scornful expression. “Call a servant. Somebody get us rid of it. I will not tolerate the state of this kitchen.”

With a grin you pulled her to you and kissed her, slow and sweet. She hummed into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek, fingers barely brushing your skin as if it were made of something indescribably precious. When you pulled away, her smile was genuinely happy.

“Hello,” you giggled, giddy and fond.

She bit her lip, ran her thumb over your mouth.

“Hi.”

You took her hand again, and together you made your way through an archway into yet another room.

“This, I believe, must be the master bedroom,” you sang. You shot Wilhemina a suggestive look, which she pretended not to notice.

“I see a bed, but where is your husband?” Wilhemina asked.

A sad smile. When you spoke, your voice had a quaver to it. “Alas, Miss Wilhemina, there is no husband.”

She hummed. Pressed her cane against her stomach. “So who’s to share this big bed with you?” she asked after a while. She was avoiding your gaze, her eyes fixed on a tuft of grass that had managed to grow in the sand. “It must get so cold in the winter. Any suitor waiting by the door?”

She was no longer teasing you. Her voice was serious, her face had become unreadable again. You looked at her, and felt that familiar pain that wasn’t just pain but also sadness, and yearning for an easier, kinder life, clutch at your heart.  

“A hundred, probably,” you whispered. You stroked your thumb over one of her knuckles, back and forth. “I don’t know. I didn’t check. I keep the doors closed.” You tugged her arm to make her turn and face you. Gave her a soft, sad smile, cupped her cheek with your free hand and caught the lonely tear that dropped from her eye. “I already have my sweetheart here with me inside,” you murmured, gazing into her eyes.  

There was so much fear in your heart. So much fear you could have thrown up on the sand in the middle of those ruins that had once been a manor house, where people dressed in pretty clothes had met to share an evening of dancing and revelries. Love had bloomed among those walls before, love that had been so bright it had lit up the whole room and love that had been kept secret behind closed doors. The walls and the ocean were still singing the long-dead lovers’ songs.

You would sing it, too, grab the hand of the nearest dancer and join the farandole.

So you gave Wilhemina’s hand a squeeze that was almost too tight, just like that day at the farmer’s market when, with rage thundering in your chest and your eyes shooting daggers, you had towered over the old woman and shouted profanities at her until all the colour had drained from her face. And you had bought Wilhemina a ridiculously big bouquet of roses she had carried down the aisle, her cheeks flushed with gratitude and happiness and almost as bright and red as the flowers, for the whole world to see how beloved she was.  

You pulled her close and smirked when her eyes flicked hungrily to your lips.

“What is that sweetheart of yours like?” she whispered.

“Most of the time she’s an ass.” Wilhemina gave you a look that made you laugh. “But when I do this – “you leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth, “I find my home and family.”

Wilhemina’s eyes had fluttered closed; she didn’t open them for a long moment after you pulled away. That was new: she always made sure her eyes were opened when somebody stood that close to her, so that she would see danger come, so that she would not be taken by surprise when her lover suddenly sneered and mocked and laughed. But today she let herself sink into intimacy and trusted it would not hurt her, and you felt yourself melt with gratitude and love.

When she eventually opened her eyes again, she gazed at you with wonderment, as if she were seeing you for the very first time and you were the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on; and then she blinked, and wonderment gave way to adoration and something that was so pure and so genuinely happy.  

#ahs #ahs imagine #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #fics

[illyaana]

Hey... Could you maybe... Could you make a oneshot consisting of Bakugou's older sibling reader (I'd prefer it to be gender neutral with a more masculine style, however you prefer) x Midnight? 🥺🥺 I love her so much and Horikoshi did her dirty. You can do whatever oneshot that you want/comes to mind, I just want something fluffy. Thank you UwU

Udk how much I squealed getting this as my first ask!

(also whoever you are you made my day/week/month (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ)

I agree, Horikoshi did her dirty. She had some moments but that was IT. I tried my best, hope you like it!!

(it's more of a you being a hero and being in a relationship with Nemuri rather than a one-shot surrounding your relationship, but there's a bunch of fluffy stuff at the end, so gehe-)

Tags: Midnight x Bakugo's Older Sibling! Reader, Binaural, Fluff, Minor Cursing, Mentions of Blood

Your Quirk: Liquid Maker - You conjure a liquid in your hands (smtg like sweat) when you want to and it can become anything. Name it, you got it hun <3

Synopsis: You are a hero (obviously gehe-) and you were catching some villains. Suddenly a huge explosion came from the middle of Musutafu and you headed straight to the crime scene.

Word Count: 2163

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You woke up to the sweet smell of smoke coming from the living room. Groaning, you got off your comfortable bed and raced to the living room to stop Bakugo from his daily antics.

"You really got to stop doing this in the morning, Katsuki," you told the younger male, "It's literally," you looked at the clock, "8 am in the morning and my half-asleep self could've gotten hurt stopping you from breaking all hell loose."

Katsuki scoffed while looking at you. "Why aren't you at work yet? As you said, it's already 8 am."

"Later shift today! I only start at around 10 am."

"Wow, aren't you lucky?" Katsuki said as he walked towards the stove, "I'm making pancakes, but I won't make even one for you until you go bathe. You look disgusting."

"Okay, okay." You say, raising your hands and rushing to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After bathing, you head back into your room and began to wear your skin-tight hero suit.

You groaned slightly as you slowly pulled the form-fitting clothing up your body.

"I swear to God this isn't getting easier."

"You are literally a fatass, so I'm not surprised," you heard Katsuki scream from the kitchen, "I pity Midnight. The fact she needs to be around a literal piece of garbage who doesn't even look good."

"At least I have someone, unlike your childish ass."

"I am a child," he retorted.

You sigh as you open your room door and head back to the kitchen.

"One day, you're going to wish you were nicer to the people around you."

"Maybe," Katsuki said while passing you a plate with a stack of three pancakes, "...but I am pretty sure you aren't going to be one of them, judging by how much you baby me."

"But you are a child! Didn't you say so a few minutes ago?" you say as you pinch his cheeks, earning a growl from him, "Woah, calm down dog."

"Shut up and eat, fatass."

You chuckle at his words and proceed with the order given by your younger brother.

You loved getting later shifts on Fridays. These were the quieter days in the Bakugo household. Mom usually took her extra days off on Fridays like today, extending her weekend. Dad left for work earlier on Fridays but he'd always buy some spicy thing for Katsuki and you to have in the morning. Something to wish us a good day, I presume. And to top it all off, you and Katsuki would have these "sibling" moments, which mostly consisted of you annoying him to the point he'd lash out at you.

"You're a really good cook, Katsuki. These pancakes keep getting better!" you compliment the 10-year old.

And there it was: you entertainment of the day - Katsuki trying to say thank you but failing miserably thanks to his own pride as a "man".

"T-than- that's obvious, isn't it?" he ends, a blush present on his face, "I make pancakes every single time you have a later shift because you like it. If I'm getting better, that means you've been getting more later shifts. That means you've been slacking off, you stupid Pro Hero!"

"...how did you even get to that idea?"

After calming down a raging Katsuki, you put on your gear and head to the entrance of the house.

"Have a good day at school, Katsuki. Don't do anything you'd regret," you playfully warn him before leaving the house.

The streets of Musutafu were usually peaceful. Ever since All Might became the Symbol of Peace, the crime rates have dropped extensively. Yet, there are always one or two little naughty kids that wanted to play with their quirks - or in simpler terms, people who act like kids and try to do minor crimes using their quirks.

Using the liquid formed in your hands, you aimed at the legs of the two running males in black and wrap their legs together. Within a second, the liquid instantly formed into a rope and bounded their legs together, forcing them to fall face down.

"You both gave me a good morning run, thanks for that!" You say as you place two handcuffs around their wrists, "But you should seriously think about another hobby besides stealing."

From afar, you heard a loud boom coming from the middle of Musutafu.

In an instant, you formed another bunch of rope and tied the two males around their waist and pushed them to the corner of a building.

"Run away and you'll get more than just jail time," you say as you rush off to the scene.

The minute you reached the scene, your eyes widened in fear.

Endeavor was the reason behind the whole catastrophe here?

From behind, you felt a pair of soft hands touch your shoulder.

"I know what it looks like, but trust me it isn't," Nemuri started, "A villain that has a mind control quirk is controlling Endeavor from a distance. I've been trying to locate them, but no luck."

You smiled, looking at your girlfriend.

"You managed to get all of that in a few seconds?" you ask, amazed, "I got a good one, didn't I?"

You felt Midnight pinch you from behind.

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, now isn't the time to flirt with me," the female hero said.

You nod, washing away the playful smile.

"You get all the civilians out of here and contact the heroes through the network. I'll try to get him down and knock him out," you say. Nemuri nodded and began to gather the civilians away from the scene.

"Now," you turn to face the 2nd best hero, "How does one take down someone much, much more stronger than you?"

You slowly gathered your liquid in your palm, allowing the fluid to grow in volume.

"You defeating Endeavor would be a sight to behold, not going to lie here," the villain said through Endeavor, "But I am willing to test out that theory."

You lunged at the fire user while creating a fire-resistant rope to tie him down in your hand. In the other, you managed to conjure a Haladie sword - a sword you've trained with ever since your days in UA.

Using the sword, you managed to propel yourself above Endeavor and cut his back. Using the momentum you built, you used both your feet to hit the back of Endeavor's knees, forcing him to kneel.

You immediately stabbed his dominant hand, preventing him from reacting quickly.

With a snap, the Haladie sword transformed back into its liquid state and wrapped around his left hand.

"I was never planning on defeating Endeavor but merely securing him, dear villain of mine," you say as you transformed the liquid around his left hand into a quick-cancelling glove, "It’s one point for Y/N, right now. No point for little Mindy over here."

You began to build up more liquid in your hands to hopefully form another Haladie sword or at least a blade.

The controlled Endeavor began to get up slowly and turn to face you.

"I didn't peg you to be a dumb one, Y/N."

You felt a blade pierce through your stomach.

A civilian sobbed as they pressed the blade deeper into your body, your blood dripping onto their office coat.

"I can't believe you let your guard down so easily. It was your fault to assume I could only control one person at a time, little hero," the controlled civilian said midst crying.

"And that will be your downfall," Endeavor said as small flames began to grow from the palm of his right hand.

The knife that once was in your body was violently ripped out of your body by the controlled civilian and then used to kill themself by piercing their heart.

Tears fell as you saw the now lifeless male bleed to death right beside you.

"Oh don't worry," Endeavor said, "I'll make sure you also go with him, too. That small wound won't kill you, I know that."

You saw Midnight running towards you along with Eraserhead and All Might.

"You know, I always pictured you crying over a dead Nemuri Kayama whilst bleeding from your stomach, have you?"

Your eyes widened at the statement.

There was no way you were going to let that villain kill her.

"Eraser," you screamed, "Erase his quirk and get Midnight out of here."

'Please don't fail on my now, buddy,' you told to your body as you ran towards Endeavor, 'You still have to live for the people you love.'

You quickly formed another Haladie sword and vaulted from the floor towards Endeavor.

You managed to grab the hand aimed at Midnight and pushed it towards you. Using the remainder fluid you had, you formed another quirk-cancelling glove on Endeavor's right hand.

You could hear a sigh of relief from both Nemuri and Shouta, making you smile.

From afar, you heard All Might saying that he caught the villain that was controlling both the civilian and Endeavor. You were shocked when you heard the number one hero's laugh of victory.

You were amazed at the skill the male had.

A villain that took two people to search for was found by him in a few minutes.

Soon, the wound formed by the dead civilian began to take effect as your vision became hazy.

Before you could lose consciousness, you felt Nemuri's hands wrap around you, catching you before you fell.

When you woke up, you heard the sound of hospital monitors beeping. You felt a small hand gripping around your left hand.

"Why did you let them stab you, idiot," you heard your younger brother say, "Don't go teaching me a lesson with your death - it won't work."

You chuckled, looking at the younger blonde. "If this doesn't work on you, I don't know what will."

Katsuki began to sob on your blanket while gripping on the four fingers his small fingers could grip.

"It's okay, Kacchan," you saw a green-haired boy patting his back, "He is here and he is alive. That is all that matters, okay?"

You smiled, looking at the greenette.

"What's your name?" you ask him.

"I'm Izuku Midoriya! I'm friends with Kacchan," he says with a beaming smile.

"Kacchan, huh?" you tease, "You are really close friends with Kacchan, aren't you?"

Before Izuku could reply, you felt Katsuki pinch your leg.

"I don't even know why I care for you, you fatass."

"Oh, how you wound me," you feign sadness as the ten-year-olds left your room.

You smile at the sight of the greenette consoling your brother as they walk out of the room.

You look up to the ceiling, sighing.

"You are a bit too young to be sighing so loudly, Y/N," Nemuri said as she slowly opened the door, "I saw what you did there. Don't tease Katsuki so often, he is quite mature for his age, you know?"

You smile, looking at Nemuri with her hands on her waist.

"He's growing too fast. I need small moments like this to remember how innocent he is before he becomes the raging little twit I know he'll become."

"Woah, Woah, Woah," she says, laughing, " 'Raging little twit'? You really are a bad brother."

You begin laughing, "I have to be the playful one or else the Bakugo's would be a family of three brooding people and one peaceful man."

"True."

Your eyes widen.

"You aren't supposed to agree, you know?"

"My mother taught me not to lie," she says, smiling.

"Well, white lies aren't bad."

She sits beside you and holds your hand. Tears slowly escape her eyes as she looks at you.

"You are okay, right?" She says, sniffling.

You slowly wipe off her tears and put the palm of your hand on her cheek.

"I'm fine, Nemuri."

You slowly move towards her and place a kiss on her forehead.

You pat the empty side of your bed, "Want to join me?"

She slowly nods as she walks to the empty side of the bed and gets in. Her legs immediately wrap around your left leg as she places her head against your chest. Her left hand extends around your waist and hugs you.

"What are you, a koala?" you joke.

"What can I say? You are a comfy tree."

"Well, I am glad to be of service."

Soon, Nemuri goes to sleep. Soft snores can be heard from her as she rubs her head against your chest.

'The koala became a cat,' you thought to yourself.

Your right-hand goes to the top of her head, ruffling her hair.

"I love you so much, Nemuri Kayama. I always will. If I had to, I would gladly lay my life down so that you'd be safe. I know you're asleep and probably can't hear this, but you are the most important thing in my life - don't forget that," you tell her sleeping figure as you fall asleep.

#Illyaana | Requests #midnight x reader #bnha nemuri #mha nemuri #Illyaana | BNHA #Illyaana | Nemuri Kayama #Illyaana | Midnight #nemuri kayama #nemuri x reader #bnha #midnight #aizawa shouta #all might #Midnight #bnha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha x you #mha x gender neutral reader #mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha fluff #boku no hero academia #izuku #my hero acadamy #mha fanfiction #mha imagines

[koos-euphoria]

ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ | ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪɴʏᴏᴜɴɢ

jinyoung/reader | smut | 18+ | criminal!au | oneshot

requested: yes

wordcount: 1.8K

warnings: Mentions of murder, mentions of death, manipulation, sex in the interrogation room, sub!Jinyoung, Dom!Fem reader, biting, scratching, marking, hair pulling, dirty talk, unprotected sex, reader lowkey being mean to jinyoung.

— summary: You get arrested for the murder of your husband. Jinyoung the best lawyer in the country gets given the job as your lawyer. However he falls for your innocent and charming act, having him right where you want. Might as well have fun, right?

note: I’ve never written something like this, so kinda nervous but enjoy!:)

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ | ɢᴏᴛ7 ᴍ.ʟɪsᴛ

©  koos-euphoria 2021. do not repost, modify, or translate

Everybody knows you definitely are not as innocent as you claim to be; you murdered a man with your bare hands. Everyone who knows about the investigation and all the evidence that has been allowed to be released in the papers and the news, knew that. Jinyoung is assigned to the role to give you the best outcome that you can possibly get; which is for you to stay out of jail. Yet he is completely and utterly infatuated with you. He believes the ‘helpless little girl who’s innocent and was just protecting herself’ persona. You found It almost laughable, really, at how easy he was to manipulate him; so gullible and naive. You’re able to just give him a pretty smile with a bat of your long lashes to have him ready to run to hell and back for you. It’s quite endearing really, you think, especially when he was one of the best lawyers out there. You couldn’t of been more happier, having him sit prettily in the palm of your hand; excited to have your way with things, once again.

Sighing dreamily to himself, he enters the interrogation room finding you sitting in one of the chairs already, hands clasped together on top of the table, as you look up at him with wide innocent eyes, when he enters. Your eyes follow him, noting his every move, as he places himself in the seat in front of you. Crossing his leg over one another trying to get as comfortable as one could get In these god awful seats. His eyes look over you, quickly, taking your appearance in, lingering on your cleavage as your push-up bra makes your perky tits even more perkier. Forcing his eyes away, missing the small twitch of a smirk on your lips as you see the whole thing, he coughs.

“Good afternoon, y/n, how are you feeling today?” Jinyoung nervously asks, while politely smiling at you. Inside your head you couldn’t help but laugh at him, oh how sweet. On the outside however you give him a small sad smile, before looking down at your clasped hands, fingers playing with one another. “As good as I can be, sir.” You sigh, before flickering your eyes up to catch him once again looking at your cleavage, jumping when he hears you chuckle at him. “Something on my chest?” You ask moving to swipe at it, as if you were getting something off. All it does however is make Jinyoung look at your breasts once again, this time gulping as he watches them jiggle at the pressure of your palms.

“N-no there’s nothing there y/n.” He shakes his head forcing his eyes away. Only you raise an eyebrow at the male. “Oh, then were you just staring at my tits then?” You boldly question, making the male in front of you cough wildly. Catching his breath his cheeks flushed. “No!” He takes a deep breath, “No, I wasn’t!” Jinyoung exclaims his hands coming up to defend his little lie. You look over him, smirking a little. “You know it’s bad to lie, don’t you, sir?” You ask.

Getting up from your seat you walk around him, shoes clicking on the concrete floor, the sound itself oozing authority itself as you trail your fingertip along the length of his neck, feeling his pulse beating erratically, making you chuckle lightly at him. “I know you were looking, you don’t have to hide that.” You tell him, voice dipping slightly as your eyes narrow seductively. Stopping behind him your hands trail up his arms and lay on his shoulders. Squeezing them between your fingertips. Biting your lip as you feel his hard muscles underneath his shirt.

Jinyoung’s incredibly tense, knowing that this whole scene is unprofessional and should stop, but yet he couldn’t stop he wanted more. “Yes, I was looking.” He squeaks out, eyes staying on the table as if he finds the plain cool metal the most interesting thing in the room. Moving, you now stand where he can see you, your bum resting against the cold table leaning on it, as you look down at the male.

“Look at me.” You demand softly, and of course Jinyoung; like the love sick puppy obeys despite his red cheeks. As your eyes make direct contact you smirk. “You don’t have to be shy about staring at my tits.” You tease, tongue flicking out to swipe along your lips, Jinyoung’s own eyes following the movement without thought. “Do you like them?” You add, your own hands coming up to cup them through your shirt, to emphasise your question.

Jinyoung nods as he gulps, he’s eyes flicking down watching as you cup yourself, his trousers starting to become tight as his cock get hard. “Y-yes, I do.” He answers obediently, and you hum in delight at how good he’s being. Leaning forward you smirk at him, “wanna touch them?” You ask him, loving the way his breath hitches, but nonetheless he nods as if in a trance. Jinyoung begins to reach out, but you pull away fast. “Ah ah. Wait a second.” You click your tongue, before you’re reaching under your shirt and behind you as you unclasp your bra taking the material off, making sure Jinyoung sees the black Lacy item before flinging it somewhere in the room behind you.

Now you lean forward again, and Jinyoung’s trousers couldn’t possibly get any tighter now he knows your breasts are free under that sheer shirt of yours. Reaching out you clasp his longer hand in yours, pulling it up and under your shirt and you make him cup you, making him whimper as your perky breast fits in his hand perfectly. His other moves on its own accord without your help as he pushes it under your shirt and grasping your other one. Your skin soft against his calloused hands as he begins massaging them in his palms, thumbs brushing over your nipple before pinching them lightly.

“Mm, so good.” You moan quietly and Jinyoung groans at your praise. Your eyes flicker down at his trousers mouth watering at the sight of his bulge. Distracted by the feeling of your tits he jumps when he feels your fingers lightly trace over his clothed cock. “Get up on the table.” You order, pulling away from him and a whine of protest leaves his lips. “Now.” You order, and at that he moves, sitting up on the table and laying on his back. You waste no time climbing on top of him. Straddling over his crotch, skirt pushing up your thighs as they spread to accommodate his hips.

A whine leaves Jinyoung’s mouth as you lean down and bite harshly on the soft flesh of his neck, sucking on the skin, marking it. Jinyoung’s hands fly up to grip on your hips tightening it as you unzip his trousers and pull down both that and his underwear down just enough to expose his cock.

As you grip the base of the length, you pull your underwear to the side, rubbing the weeping tip along your folds, teasing both him and yourself. “P-please y/n, n-need you,” he begs, his hips lifting up slightly, trying to feel out your warmth himself. You take pity on the male beneath you, laying beautifully on the cool metal table, hair messily clinging to his forehead. Smirking down at him, you run the tip back down your slit until it catches onto your hole, the movement making his breath hitch. Pushing down, you let your walls swallow his tip, hissing at the stretch of his thick cock, and you continue to sink until your ass is flush to his muscular thighs.

You couldn’t hold back the small giggle, that bubbles out of you when you hear him let out a broken moan. Cute, you think. You didn’t even have to look to know his legs are quivering at the feeling of your cunt wrapped snuggly around his length. “F-fuck, you feel so good,” Jinyoung whimpers.

You just chuckle at him,beginning to bounce yourself on his cock, as you unbutton his shirt exposing his toned stomach as chest. You claw at the honeyed skin marking it up and when he jerks his hips up in time with you, he hits that one spot making you moan out. “Fuck, you’re so good baby, so pretty under me.” You praise as you lean back, hands purchased on his thick thighs as your eyes roll back.

“Hmph.” Jinyoung whines as he feels your cunt clench around him, walls so warm, almost driving him insane. Reaching under your shirt once against as he plays with your tits, thumbing the nipples. You look down at him, moving to run your hands through his dark; soft strands of hair before griping at the roots harshly cause him to cry out. “Look at you, fucking your Client, no less someone who’s being falsely accused of murder. So bad.” You degrade, and you can feel him pulse inside you as your words do nothing but turn him on further.

Gripping his chin with your free hand you force him to look at you. “You’ll keep me out of that place won’t you baby, hm? I’ll fuck you so good if you do. My pussy would be all yours.” You moan, manipulating him further as you lean into him, lips attaching, teeth clashing as you use him to get yourself off. Jinyoung’s breathily nods “yes, yes. I won’t let you go.” He mumbles, over and over like a mantra. His whole mind is just filled of thoughts you. You and only you. He won’t let you go. You’re too good for that place.

“Are Gonna cum for me like a good boy?” You ask sweetly drawing a finger down his neck, and he moans out weakly. “Yes, wanna fill you up.” He whines making you chuckle at him, quirking up a brow as you quicken your pace, Jinyoung moves one of his hands away from your breast, trailing down your frame until a thumb is pressing onto your clit rubbing the bud In circles, wanting nothing more than for you to cum along with him.

And you do, your walls fluttering around his cock, practically milking him of all he has got and his eyes are rolling backwards into his skull. And you lean yourself down to his ear, lips brushing on his lobe, tickling him. “Cum inside my pussy, baby.” You tell him. Those words are what he needed to tip him over the edge as his back slightly arches his hands flying to your hips as his nails dig into you. His seed filling deep inside.

Jinyoung comes down panting as you’re in the same condition. “I’ll keep you out, no matter what y/n.” He says through his pants eyes locked into yours, his swirling with emotions; love. You know he’s not lying, it makes you smile almost affectionately down at the male patting his cheek. “I know.” Oh how pretty this little pawn is.

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