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#tw confusion
inkblot22 · 2 months
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Can You Keep A Little Secret?
JFC this took me longer than usual I'm so sorry anon. I sort of explained it before, but I didn't exactly use your prompt, based on ineptitude on my part. After I finish reading Oshi no Ko, I might try again! Line divider by @/cafekitsune.
This fic is aimed towards sort of everyone, but the reader possesses afab features (they don't come into play until later, this chapter has no mention of them.) You'll understand what I mean by it being for everyone if you read the first paragraph or so. It has to do with suspending your belief/ employing your imagination.
TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, creep behavior, mention of death, mention of lobotomy/grippy sock jail, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.
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Waking up was never your favorite part of the day, but that feeling increases tenfold when you wake up in someone else’s body. You know for sure you didn’t look like this last week, and the name on your ID is similar to your own, but you don’t recognize the face in the mirror. Whoever you’re inhabiting has a few similar features to your own, but your skin was never this dewy, your eyes never so… hollow and strange. 
When you looked up your name, you found out that you, or your body, at least, had died in your sleep. When you looked up the name on that ID, you found out that you’re the child of some big business man and a prolific model, and you apparently dabble in acting. Your dad isn’t your dad, but he calls you every night to make sure you’re settling into your “new” apartment. Your mom isn’t your mom, but she has popped by once or twice to ask you how you’ve been and make you really good food. She mentioned last night that your acting instructor was worried, since you hadn’t attended your Thursday classes, and also that your agent has been trying to contact you. You didn’t know you had an agent.
When you called your agent, who was literally just titled “Agent” in your new phone, she sounded relieved then irritated, chiding you for living the high life too fast. She said you weren’t popular or loved enough to go on week-long benders, and then she mentioned that she had a job for you and she’d see you on Thursday. According to this phone that isn’t yours, Thursday was tomorrow. 
You made a night of getting prepared- slathering on the fancy face masks, trying on various outfits, scrolling through the pictures on the phone of your new body in the past, painting your really gorgeous nails- and then you went to sleep and woke up to a phone call from your new dad. 
“Hi, sweetheart!”
“Uh… hi, Dad…” You mumbled. You didn’t know him from Adam, but there was no point in being rude to him.
He pauses, and then he speaks slowly, “Did you hear from your agent, honey?”
“Yeah- yeah I did, uh, I have acting class in a little, and she said she has a job for me.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear it! You know you can always visit me if something is wrong, okay? Just call me or Devin and he’ll come get you as soon as possible.”
You don’t know who Devin is, but you don’t point it out, “Of course. Thank you, dad.”
There was another pause. This one stretches out for a while and then he mumbles, “Okay… love you, sweetpea.”
“Uh… love you too. I’ll call you when I get back home?”
“Sure thing. Bye bye.”
The call ends with a click and you hop in the shower, trying to scrub away the confusion. You pair the lotion with a body spray that makes you smell like a summer afternoon in an apple orchard, and then you dress yourself in a soft off the shoulder sweater dress with a pair of tights with little sequins and gems sewn onto the sheer black material. You pull your hair back, tied at the nape of your neck, and roll on some lip gloss. You grab your bag, which isn’t your bag, and stroll out, walking down the street to get to the talent agency.
The receptionist looks at you in some measure of shock and greets you kindly. You smile and wave. He looks even more confused as you clomp into the stairwell. Once you get to the third floor, mildly out of breath, you hurry to room 3-5 and silently slide into the back.
You’re not sure why you’re acting so covert, as the class hasn’t even started. A woman with dark hair strolls in and flinches when she sees you sitting there, your new name tumbling from her lips with confusion.
“Hello.” You hope that she’s the instructor, “How are you?”
She looks at you like you grew two heads and forces a smile, “Oh, I’m well, dear. Give me a moment to look outside.”
She clicks to the window in her heels and opens the blinds looking around wildly before she turns back to you.
“Well, nothing’s on fire and there’s a distinct lack of flying pigs, so I guess you’re finally serious about getting better at acting?” 
“Uh… I…?” You don’t know how to respond, “I didn’t realize I’d been late so often.”
“Late? Half the time you didn’t even show up. The only person worse than you is-”
The door behind you opens. You clench your hands to stop the shaking you just realized you were struggling with, and turn slightly in your seat to see a willowy young man, tousled lavender hair being haphazardly smoothed by his slender hands.
The instructor snorts, “Speak of the devil. Hello, Mr. Felmier.”
He smiles, but it’s a bit too calculated. When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost artificial, “Ah ha… Good morning, Angie.”
Angie, evidently, rolls her eyes and takes a seat at the front of the room, crossing her long legs, and tilts her head skeptically, “Sure. If a satellite doesn’t crash in this room and kill us all in the middle of class, I’ll be shocked.”
“Mr. Felmier” walks over and smiles at you. It seems even more strained than before, and keeps eye contact with you as he points to the chair next to you, his voice high and sweet, “Mind if I sit here?”
“Oh, of course not. I don’t own that chair, haha!” You joke. 
His face twitches, some micro expression that you’re just observant enough to notice, but not to see, and he takes a seat. Angie gets up and leaves and you look out the window. You can feel eyes on you, and when you turn to look at him, his face is impassive save for a slight narrowing of his eyes. You look down at yourself and pat your cheeks, suddenly nervous.
“Oh, no, is there something on me?” You ask.
He doesn’t immediately respond, his eyes blinking so fast that if he hadn’t done it twice you would have never seen the movement, and then he gives you that sweet, plastic smile, “Oh, no. Your makeup is different than usual. It looks nice. Pretty.”
“I- I’m only wearing lipgloss, so I guess that’s why. Thank you.”
He nods slowly, and tilts his head, still smiling as though he’s trained to do so, “After we’re done here, did you want to go get brunch together?”
You’re about to say no. You don’t remember him, because this is not your life you’re living, but if you did know him, you’d decline anyway. Something feels funny about him. You don’t really have to decline, though, since you have to go down to floor 2 and see your agent afterwards anyway, “Oh, uh, I’m so sorry. I have to do something after.”
“I can wait.”
“I don’t want to put you out. Maybe another time?”
His eyebrows pinch together ever so slightly and his smile doesn’t strain, but it feels wrong as he leans his elbow on the back of his chair to better face you, “Did you hear the news from Mirelle?”
“What news?” You don’t know who Mirelle is.
“Oh, you’re meeting with her afterwards, aren’t you?” He smooths the hair along your temple so it is slicked behind your ear, “Are you wearing that perfume I got you? You said you hated it.”
Okay, so whoevers body this was definitely knew this man, and now you don’t even know his full name. Judging from the way he’s speaking to you, you were friends at least. Your lashes flutter and you look away from him.
“I- I’m sorry. It smells very nice.” You don’t know how you’re supposed to be acting. The irony of waiting for an acting class while not knowing what your role here happens to be is not lost on you.
Felmier sits up like you insulted him and his voice is quiet, so quiet and tense that you don’t think you’re supposed to hear him, “Interesting.” 
You glance at him again, “What?”
“I didn’t say anything. You like that bagel place down the street, don’t you? After you see Mirelle, meet me in the lobby. I think we should have a chat.” Although he is smiling, his voice doesn’t leave any room for argument as he turns back to the front. 
You stand up, leaving your purse in your seat, and walk to the window, looking out of it for a moment until Angie strolls back in. She clicks her tongue and you walk back to your seat.
“It’s just you two? Now I’m really expecting a freak accident. Well, let’s get started.”
Acting class was… interesting. Since it was just the three of you, Angie had you read lines from a script and act out some kind of argument. She seemed pleased with your performance, but Felmier kept stumbling over his lines and making the wrong expression. He seemed tense by the time the two hour long session was over. You didn’t want to follow that thread, and besides, you had somewhere to be. You went down the stairs again and bumped into a woman with silver hair, who looked at you just as confused as everyone else had been, and smiled sweetly, genuinely.
“Hey, you. You’re a bit early.” She says.
“Uh, yeah. I guess so? I don’t know.” You guessed this was supposed to be Mirelle, your agent, maybe. 
“It’s a good change, babe. Why don’t you come into my office?” She doesn’t really ask, since she’s already leading you over.
She takes a seat behind her desk and you take a seat in front of her, and she taps away at her computer for a moment before she says something.
“You remember Epel? Epel Felmier?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
“Oh? You ‘guess so’? Not that the two of you are constantly arguing, or anything.” She smirks, glancing away from her monitor to look at you, “Regardless, I’ve got something that will help with your little PR nightmare last month. What were you thinking?”
“Uh, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrow a fraction, but whatever she was thinking is ignored, “You and Epel are gonna be collaborating on an upcoming short film. Hopefully the two of you don’t get into another screaming match.”
“Um. Yeah. Hopefully.” All this new information and these new people are making your head spin. You don’t want to start panicking- you did enough of that last week- but you’re already exhausted. You wonder if there’s a back entrance to this building so you can just sneak out and don’t have to talk to Epel again. You don’t think you can mentally handle him talking to you over a cup of coffee.
Your agent, Mirelle, is looking at you expectantly, like she just said something. Your heart jumps into your throat, then sinks to your gut and you clear your throat quietly, shifting in your chair.
She laughs airily, “Oh, you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”
You shake your head, and she laughs again.
“I just said that production starts Monday. Try not to do anything crazy. This project is monumentally important for your public image.”
“Okay. Sorry for causing so much trouble in the past.” You mutter, standing up.
She shrugs with a happy little grin, “Oh, you’re young. Maybe you’ll grow out of it.”
You just nod. How are you supposed to even respond to that? If you get mad, you’ll probably get hysterical, and if you get hysterical, that is a one way ticket to a stay in grippy sock jail or a lobotomy. Rich people are different, and even though you’re living in some rich person’s body, you did not live this life for longer than a week. 
You purposely walk to the other staircase. Most buildings have two for fire safety. Your eyes water as you pause on the stairs and you sigh before you start descending them. 
Just as you get to the exit, your hand on the door, you hear a voice behind you, “Hey.”
It scares you out of your skin. You jump and spin and squawk, only to meet the wicked smile of Epel. It doesn’t reach his round blue eyes. He tilts his head from side to side, slowly, as if appraising you, and then he starts walking towards you and you push back against the door, opening it ever so slightly. He stops his motion and looks a tad surprised.
Then his eyes narrow, “Come back in.”
His voice sounds different, rougher. You don’t really want to, but it’s hot outside and you figure from all the odd looks and reactions you’ve gotten, running would be too erratic for this poor person’s life you’ve taken over. 
When you close the door and remain leaned against it, Epel’s face relaxes. You didn’t even realize he was making any sort of tense expression. He glances at the spandrel, the area beneath the stairs, and sighs.
“You hit your head last week? That why you were missin’?” Yeah, he’s speaking entirely differently. He has a sort of charming country twang to his voice, an underlying roughness that makes him seem even more boyish than before.
“Huh?”
“‘Huh?’” He mocks, looking back at you. He looks like he might cry, but his eyes are angry, “That all you got to say? For years you’ve told me that I don’t mean shit, and now you’re actin’ like you don’t even know me.”
He is right. You don’t know him at all. Even though you’re still in the cool building, you begin to sweat. You don’t know what to say to this without going through the experiences you’ve had in the past week, so you decide you don’t have to, especially since it seems like he may get aggressive if you say the wrong thing.
You lean hard against the aptly named panic bar, turn on your heel once outside, and take off running. It dawns on you a little late that he might be following, or, seven forbid, that he knows where you live, so you take a different route as dictated by your GPS and call your new father as soon as you get in the building.
It’s the middle of the work day, so he obviously doesn’t pick up. You unlock the apartment door and pant breathlessly, leaving a hasty voicemail, “O-oh, great seven- ugh- okay, hi, Dad. I told you I’d call you when I get home, so that’s what I’m doing. Hope I didn’t disrupt a meeting or whatever. Call me back, bye.”
You flop face down on the bed and groan, rolling onto your back as the ringtone that you would never choose goes off. In bold white letters on the screen, it says “Bumpkin Boy” with no other indication of who it might be. You pick up.
The voice on the other end sounds heated, a quiet mocking lilt to it, “Bet you went home, huh?”
Your blood runs cold and your very ability to speak is ripped from your lips.
“S’okay. You don’t have to talk. I could pay you a little visit, see what it’s like to live like a nepo baby for a day, but I think…” He pauses, and when he next speaks you hear the smile in his voice, “I think I’ll just wait for Monday, since you owe me a coffee date, don’t you?”
He hangs up after that. You stand up and double-check that you’ve locked the door before you hide in your closet and try not to start hyperventilating. You can’t even beat yourself up for this one. These circumstances are entirely out of your control.
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zel-zo · 1 year
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Swirly eyed Jon is very cool.
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I have so much headspace dedicated to this boio and his story but i have no idea how to share it without prompting shdkjf so here's he! <3
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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months
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DCxDP: Immunity system
Danny gets confused for Tim Drake when he stop for gas in Gotham on his way to visit Dan. His clone had set up shop- a literary comic book shop- in Metropolis.
Danny was going for the weekend to help him run the red dot sale and also spend time with his Clone turned older brother.
Dan after being released from his prison and getting a Core Cleanse in the FarFrozen ectoplasm iced pools, had mellowed out greatly.
It turns out Dan had gone mad after suffering a dip in contaminated ectoplasm. He called it "Pit Madness" and Clockwork assured him it was a real medical condition
Much like getting bitten by a rabies-infected animal, Dan's condition was not his fault despite turning him violent.
After the Big Reveal with his parents - who took the news surprisingly well- Team Phantom introduced Elle and Dan to them.
The two clones had been quickly made official Fentons and now Danny had an older brother and a young sister.
Elle lived at home with Danny and his parents, but Jazz and Dan moved out after high school graduation. Danny was thinking of moving in with Dan to go to college.
He wasn't sure, but he still had a whole year to decide.
Danny found a gas station within his GPS map and stopped at the closest one. There weren't a lot of people around, so he assumed that was a slow day.
He was not aware the locals avoided the area due to the danger of feuding gangs. He was also unaware that while pumping the gas, a Scarecrow goon was watching him.
That goon knew his boss had been getting a bit bored with his experiments, and he knew it wouldn't be long before his boss turned on his employees to relieve his boredom.
He was just starting to sweat, thinking he would be the new genuine pig until Tim Drake himself rolled out of a beat up car in the bad part of town.
He practically gift-wrapped himself for Scarecrow! The goon grins, creeping up behind the distracted young man.
One of the employees' inside the gas station had clocked Tim Drake too and had been staring at him - how could he not when Tim was a Bi icon?- and sees the moment the goon covers the boy's mouth with a clotch and yank him into a van that speeds away.
For a moment, the employee only gawked after the speeding vehicle, too shook to do anything as it disappears around a corner.
He scrambles for his phone to call 911. He prays that his slow reaction does not cost Drake's life.
(His call's transcript pings on Oracle's program designed to pick up the civilian names of the Bats if ever used in the emergency hotlines)
Sadly it is hours before the Bats have even an idea of where Tim (actually Danny) was taken to.
Danny wakes up in a warehouse, strapped to a table. He only had a brief moment of thinking his worst fear was coming true ,his parents, were going to rip him apart molecular by molecular, despite it being two years since they learn.
Thankfully a man dressed in a ridiculous Halloween costume steps into the light and he knows it's not his parents.
"Lovely expression Mr. Drake. Let's see how lovely that fear truly is," the man says in a raspy voice, holding up a needle. He stabs Danny with it and the boy blanches as the hot liquid enters his blood stream.
A minute goes by.
Two.
Three.
"Ugh was that supposed to do something?" He questioned, moving around his restraints to check his chances of escape without outing himself as Phantom.
The camera pointing at him limits his options.
The man dressed as Scarecrow lets out a gleeful cackle. He doesn't answer Danny, instead turning to the door- from where Danny can lift his head, it looks like he's in a basement of some kind- and shouts, "Bring me experiment six two six!"
A bulky man comes in carrying a tray of tubes. Danny watches as Scarecrow carefully selects a tube and pours it into another needle. "Lets see how you handle this"
The answer is Danny handles it very well. In fact he takes all seven tubes without a single reaction. Honestly it's the needle that's a real bother.
Scarecrow is both impressed and slightly insulted by the end of it. "How did a simpleton chloroform work on you but not my brilliant science!?"
Danny squints at him. "I would call this many things but never science, let alone brilliant, you fruitloop."
He gets knocked out again for his cheek with a new chloroform rag.
He wakes to the same made leaning over him again, but this time, there is also a clown in purple. Danny can only stare as the clown cackles.
"I think you're losing your special touch if Tim Drake is immune to your Fear Gas." The clown says, and Danny wonders if a costume convention exists in town.
Danny is happy to see that besides being knocked out and tied him down they haven't really done anything to him. "Who are you supposed to be?"
The clown face spams before a wide, mad grin breaks across his face. If Danny were to look of the definition of madness in a dictionary he knows this guy would be the example for it.
"I'm just a simple chum who wants to see the world laugh," The clown tells him, holding a squirt flower in Danny's face. "Let's see that smile!"
Danny squeaks as the liquid splashes in his face, some going up his nose. He coughs while the two men stare intensely at him.
After a moment Danny gets himself under control. "Ugh what was that? Is smell nasty"
The clown face freezes, rage bleeding into his eyes as the scarecrow one scoffs "seem you are also losing your touch, chum"
"No no no. Our little friend just needs a higher dosage! I'll have him laughing in no time!"
He doesn't. After a gas tank full of that nasty-smelling stuff is forced onto his face, and five different needles stabbed into his arm the clown is forced to admit Danny is immune.
They still call him "Mr. Drake" even though Danny tells them between needles that's not his name.
After hours of attempting to get a reaction out of him- both by clown and scarecrow- , Danny is knocked out again by the little rag.
When he comes two three people stand over him. The two from before, though clown now looks murderous and scarecrow politely interested, and a women in green with leaves splat across her outfit.
So Danny got kidnapped by a Scarecrow, a clown, and a nymph? Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.
The gas mask is forced back onto his face and another Danny struggles he can do nothing as he is forced to breath in a new gas.
The woman watches his reaction with a keen eye before nodding "He should be pretty far gone now"
Scarecrow shakes his head. "There isn't a single reaction. He isn't affected by your pheromones."
The woman scoffs, leaning over Danny and fluttering her eyelashes "You're going to kill dear old dad for me"
Danny glares at her. "Like hell, I will."
His voice is muffled by the mask but they hear him and the woman actually looks shocked "He might need a higher dosage "
"By all means, give it a try. Neither Joker or I saw a difference in Mr.Drake even after adjusting his intake."
"How is that possible?"
"Maybe because you all suck!"
The clown slams his hands on the table. "I am one of the best chemists in the world, brat!"
"And the ugliest!"
Danny doesn't see the knife until it's pressed repeatedly into his left leg. He screams around his mask as the Clown spits and swears at him.
The other two only watch, neither seemingly bothered by the man stabbing a teenager.
Then the knife is plunged into his stomach, and he screams as the world almost whites out in agony.
Danny, blinks the white hot pain, and is just barely thinking of going ghost when the door bursts open and a group of people wearing more costumes pour in.
A man dressed as a Bat flings the clown away with an outraged cry. Danny can't see where the clown lands, but he hears fighting all around him.
A boy in a hood and mask appears in his line of sight. There is a worried frown on his face as he quickly picks at the locks keeping Danny down "Do not worry, Drake, we are here."
Danny finally gives in to the pain, running to blissful darkness as a man in a red helmet lifts him off the bed and makes a run for the door.
The kid provided cover for them.
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hellspawnmotel · 7 months
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remember when I did this?
well I did more
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twentytwoarts · 18 days
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the sky with stars so bright
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harestigm · 2 years
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Some of us are angry. 
I really don’t understand why.
We should be happy we’re healthy?? 
We should be happy we’re safe!!
We should be happy. 
There is no need for this internal struggle over who’s abusive or an abuser or really anything. 
Why can’t we just listen to what they say and believe it?
We internalize it so easily, so why not believe it. 
It would be so easy 
Stop tugging the rope of a beast that does not exist. 
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inkblot22 · 2 months
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Can You Keep A Little Secret? 2
Dreamworks films have no right having such good soundtracks. The whole time I wrote this I listened to this and this. The second one isn't a Dreamworks song, but Scary Bitches is such a good band and I want more people to know about them tbh. The first song also is not about me, as I am neither big nor chunky, but hey, who doesn't love someone who is big and chunky? I'm sure everyone can relate to that song as either the person singing or the person being sung to. Dividers made by @/cafekitsune.
Similarly to the last part, this fic is aimed at sort of anyone, but the reader's physical body has afab features. It's not really mentioned in this chapter, but it will come into serious play later.
TW for: lots of confusion, semi-shy reader, MORE creep behavior, a lot of introspection in this chapter, one (1) weird middle-aged man, reincarnation. These warnings will get worse, and this takes place when all characters are 18+.
Part 1 here!
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Monday comes with the regular stress. You slept like a newborn and your new mom came over to congratulate you. She’s sweet, but her excitement was not contagious. If anything, it just stressed you out more. At least she made dinner when she came over. Always excellent when you don’t have to do that on your own. 
On Sunday, you make a night of getting ready for your doom tomorrow. Your agent sent you an email on Friday, including the shot location. 
Monday morning, you call up your new father, who apparently wakes up every morning at four to relax before he has to be productive, and he sends over Devin and a car to take you to the set. Devin, as it turns out, is an elderly man with cataracts and your father’s trusted chauffeur. You aren’t convinced as he takes turns way too hard, your cupcake-shaped backpack sliding on the back seat. When he drops you off, he hands you a hard candy and wishes you a good day before he takes off speeding. The candy looks like it’s older than you. You slip it in your pocket.
You imagine you’re lucky, since when you walk up to the tents, you don’t see Epel. You’re not ready for the rollercoaster of emotions he inspires in you. Instead is a group of three people around your age- college kids- and a grouchy-looking middle-aged man. You take a nervous seat on one of the nearby stools.
You were certain you’d been silent, but as soon as you’re settled, the whole groups’ heads snap to stare at you. A woman with ocean-green hair walks over and holds out her hand.
“My name isn’t important right now, ohmygod it’s so nice to meet you!” She squeals, shaking the everloving fuck out of your arm, “Oh, who am I kidding? My name is Belle!”
“Uh… nice to meet you, Belle?” You say, smiling awkwardly.
“Ahhh! You’re not mean at all! Those tabloids don’t know what they’re talking about. Who believes that greasy, gossipy shlock anyway, huh?” She talks a mile a minute.
Another woman with dark hair walks over, smiling somewhat awkwardly, “Belle, you’re scaring the poor thing. I’m Argon. Yes, like the gas. No, I don’t have IBS.”
You’re not sure why she decided to clarify that, but it’s not your problem. The third person and the middle-aged man stroll over. 
“I’m Starlo. You’ll be in these meaty paws today.” The middle aged man says. It’s not a pleasant introduction, and if anything, it makes you want to turn tail and run.
You nod along regardless, and the other man jabs out his hand, “Pepper.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you.” You say politely.
Belle drags you out of the stool and towards a trailer, the only one on the lot. She shoves you in and you feel the want to leave grow stronger.
She’s so bubbly. She talks fast and she talks with her hands, “This is you and Epel’s dressing room! I know it’s not ideal, so that’s why it’s got a divider. He’s a gentleman anyway, so it doesn’t matter, I’m sure. Starlo will be in shortly to do some makeup tests, and then once Epel gets here, we’ll go over the script and the visions we have, and then that’s all for today. I’m so excited to work with you guys. Oh! That’s right! We were gonna go to that traditional Scalding Sands place after we’re done here. I don’t have your contacts, but if you wanted to come along, that would be amazing. You seem so sweet.”
You’re legitimately unsure how to respond to any of that. She also seems very sweet, and you really don’t want to get stuck in a coffee shop with Epel afterwards. Unfortunately, as she was speaking, the devil himself showed up. You didn’t notice him at first, but you felt your skin crawl when he did. He's got his silky lavender hair pulled off of his shoulders in a little tail at the nape of his neck. You open your mouth to say that you’d love to get shawarma with this motley crew, but he beats you to it.
His pretty blue eyes never leave yours, “Oh, you’re just a peach for offering, but we’ve already got plans.”
Belle spins around to face him, screams, and swoons. You manage to stumble forward and catch her, and Epel’s smile drops as he slinks across the room, spins one of the crappy foldable chairs around, and plops himself into it, elegantly resting his ankle on his knee. For all of two minutes, he just stares at you as you lay Belle down, stuffing some fabrics under her feet, and fanning her face. 
When Belle comes to, his smile is back. She jumps to her feet and begins fawning over him, shaking his hand just as excitedly.
“Hi! I’m Belle! Oh, my god, you’re even prettier in person, and ooh, you smell so nice too.”
Epel laughs, but it doesn’t hit your ears right. Belle eats it up and you glance at the door. She’s got him distracted. It would be so easy just to leave, to feign an illness and walk to the nearest cornerstore so you could call a taxi or a rideshare.
You’re not lucky, though, as Starlo strolls in just as you’re about to go for the door, “Belle, what the hell are you doing? Argon and Pepper are waiting for you.”
She literally squeaks like a mouse and waves a quick goodbye. Starlo grabs you by the arm and deposits you in the other foldable metal chair, clearing his throat repeatedly as he pulls over a stool and drags out an industrial size makeup kit. 
The first makeup that he swatches both tingles and is way too light a color for your skin tone. You blink rapidly, unsure if you should say anything.
“You gonna get the same thing you always do?” Epel asks.
“What?” You turn your head to look at him.
He’s wearing a patient expression, but like always, it feels artificial. “From that bagel place.”
“Uh��� I-I’m sorry?”
“I know you didn’t forget. I’m taking you to brunch after all this.”
“Uh… haha, yeah.” You don’t know what you always get from the bagel place.
Starlo daubs something else on your arm. It’s cold, but it looks really pretty on your skin.
The “you” that everyone has been expecting sounds like an outspoken, opinionated person who was consistently late or absent from various responsibilities, and if your new mom is anything to go by, neglecting their own health. You almost wish you had a bit more to go off so you could start acting like this you, but you’re not too keen on speaking your mind with people you don’t know. Your entire life has been hit with a cosmic “reset from most recent save” button, and if you dare to mention it to anyone, you’re in for a whole new set of problems.
Whatever Starlo just put on your arm burns. You yelp and jerk away, and he grabs your wrist. You think it’s instinctive, but his grip is nothing to sneeze at.
“What’s the matter?” Starlo asks.
“I- You’re crushing my wrist.” You mumble, “And I don’t know what that last one was, but it burned.”
“It burned?” He pulls out a bottle of the wrong shade of foundation and looks at it, “Huh. No wonder. Damn thing is expired.”
“Why are you even using that one?” Epel asks. Although his tone sounds innocent, the question is outright confrontational, “It’s way too dark.”
“Are you the makeup artist here, son?” Starlo shoots back.
“I usually do my own makeup. I know it’s not the same, but anyone with eyes can see that you’re going about your business the wrong way.”
You keep your lips sealed. What are you even supposed to say here? Other than that last product, he’s been fine. His hand on your wrist feels crushingly uncomfortable, of course, but he’s not doing any of this on purpose. You skimmed the script, but you’re not really sure what the story is about. It’s all of your jobs to try to make it come together, and if that means that you’re going to be wearing a foundation two shades too dark for you, then perhaps that’s what art is. As you were thinking, Starlo let go of your wrist in favor of getting in Epel’s face. 
“-no two-bit, fucking stuck up little prick like you is gonna tell me how to do my damn job. You understand?”
Epel is smiling sweetly even as the older man’s spittle is spraying him in the face. He stands up, and Starlo steps back, as though expecting Epel to start swinging. Instead, he walks over to you, grabs your hand ever so delicately. The contact makes your skin crawl as he yanks you to your feet.
“You should apologize before the two of us walk off set right now.” He said, still smiling.
You can’t just walk off set. You don’t think you can, at least. Your agent was so excited for the positive PR this would create, and this is genuinely not a big deal, “Wait-”
Starlo’s eyes narrow, and it hits you that maybe he sees what you see when you look at Epel. A two-faced creature masquerading as a man. You’ve seen one of his sides clearly, but you’re certain you haven’t seen all of the other one, even when he called you on Thursday. It’s like seeing someone standing at the end of a hallway with their back to you: the sight is enough to give you chills, but you aren’t able to see the knife that the person is holding in front of them. That sort of thing. You’re aware of the danger, but can’t comprehend the depth of it.
Despite all, Starlo acquiesces, showing his palms and shaking his head, “Yeah, I’m sorry. Doctor says I gotta work on my temper.”
“You do.” Epel responds flatly, releasing your hand and reclaiming his seat.
The rest of the test is short. Starlo is pretty competent, and he makes it quick and sweet.
That seems to be the theme for the rest of the day. Starlo remains in the trailer to dispose of a few expired things and note down what you had reactions to, while you and Epel meet up with Belle, Argon, and Pepper to talk about the short film.
It’s going to be a story of lovers, unfortunately, but you get to play the part of the dead one. The story goes that your and Epel’s characters came out here to camp, but you froze to death in the night. Epel returns to the campsite every year in your memory, and you return from the land of the dead in his. On the night shown in the film, you finally bump into each other, and through the emotional reunion, you spend one final night camping together.
Epel smiles and nods along with what the three film students say, all too eager to whisk you away as soon as the first shooting date is scheduled and you have an extra copy of the script in your sweaty hands. 
He drags you towards a very cute little compact car in candy apple red and opens the door for you. You don’t want to get in, but you also don’t want to call Devin. You take a seat and he closes the door. As you’re buckling up, he gets in the driver and starts the car, just sitting there for a second before he buckles and backs out of the lot, his arm on the back of your seat.
You look out the window and Epel grunts, his voice no longer sweet and charming and fake, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
You turn your head sharply, “What?”
He sighs, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he blinks. You wonder if he’ll leave it at that until later, and then he says, “You’ve been acting real weird. You been talking to someone?”
“What are you talking about?”
He narrows his eyes in a glance at you, and then he swerves the car in a wrong turn. “I think you know. People don’t change overnight. Where were you that week no one could get ahold of you?”
“I was… in my apartment?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. You’re in the city by now, the sun reflecting off of the skyscrapers’ windows in an aggressive manner, “And over the course of that week you decided you didn’t like being a bitch no more?”
“I don’t-”
“Every time I saw you, for years, it was the same thing.” He turns again, going in a circle around the block, “Same shit. Every day. Making fun of my upbringing, like I didn’t know you barely had one, calling me everything out of my name, and now suddenly you’re…”
His voice trails off. You contemplate throwing the door on your side open and jumping out of the car. You absolutely do not need this. You’re already stressed out.
“Well… suppose I shouldn’t complain. I do like you better this way.” He mutters. “But way back when, when you pulled shit like this, it was because you were plotting something. That your game now? You-”
“I… I’m sorry for being so mean to you in the past.” You’re not apologizing for anything you did, but you’re grasping aimlessly trying to de-escalate this one-sided conversation. He’s driving. If you don’t do something, he could decide to swerve off the road and kill you both, “There was no reason for it.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then he says, “That… means a lot. I already forgave you. Told myself I wouldn’t quit trying to be friends. Guess it paid off, huh? I’m sorry for getting angry when we talked, Thursday before last.”
You don’t like that at all. It sort of feels like he’s not saying everything, like you should know what he’s talking about. You don’t. You weren’t living in this body Thursday before last. You nod and look out the window, “Uh… I appreciate it.”
You don’t actually care, but you’re a good actor. You’ve already decided that you’re going to just go along with Epel’s brunch and then you’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist outside of work. Frankly you’re unsure why the person who used to live in this body had his number or interacted with him for years, evidently.
Epel parks and you have a minor crisis as you try to figure out what you typically get from this bagel shop. It doesn’t matter anyway, since he orders you a large caramel iced coffee and a blueberry bagel with cream cheese. That’s such a basic order, but it’s simple enough to be good. You sit quietly and eat, not interested in making conversation.
Epel clears his throat. He’s quiet, but he’s talking in that schooled version of his voice again, “You ever hear back from that breeder?”
“Uh… the what?” You narrow your eyes.
Epel is leaning on his hand, a sweet little smile on his lips as he looks at you. Seven, you want him to look away, “The sphynx cats. You said you sent them an email a while ago during that meeting we had with Mirelle after our big public argument.”
“Oh. I haven’t checked.” You didn’t know you should have. You take a sip of the iced coffee and look out the window.
Epel hums and a stranger walks over, grinning, “Oh my goodness! It’s actually you! Can I have your autograph, Mr. Felmier?”
“Oh, just Epel is fine. Sure!” He’s all smiles as he interacts with the fan, but as soon as they’re gone, his face falls and he nudges your hand, “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”
“O-oh, no, that’s alright-”
“You want to make another big scene?”
You force a smile and grab your iced coffee, following after Epel. He nudges your hand with his own, but you pull your hand away, covering it up with adjusting your clothes and holding your nearly empty coffee cup with both hands. Your hands are slick with more than just condensation.
You’re all too aware of your surroundings, especially the way that he somehow knows the key code to the door of your apartment building to get you in without a fob. You pause in the lobby.
“Thanks so much for walking me back, Epel. See you tomorrow.” You smile and turn to walk towards the stairs.
Epel grabs the back of your shirt and tugs you back a bit. You stumble against him and he frowns at you.
His expression should tug at your heartstrings, and yet… “You’re not gonna invite me up?”
This poses a dilemma. There are a few people watching this interaction. You can’t afford to make any type of scene, but you absolutely do not want to be alone with him. While you don’t know him well, your body does. Something also tells you that he’s a bit of a danger to be around in general. Call it a gut instinct.
“Uh… Well, maybe you could walk me to my door?” You have no intention of letting him in your apartment.
His eyes narrow ever so slightly, but he smiles regardless, and loops his hand through your sweaty one, strolling confidently towards the stairs.
About as soon as he lets go of your hand to ascend the stairs, you bolt up the stairs, your palms slapping against the dirty concrete to keep you from bashing your face. You’re glad you didn’t wear pumps today as you get to the third floor, careening down the hallway and fumbling your keys as you shakily unlock the door. You lock it behind you, slumping to the floor.
Tomorrow is gonna suck absolute ass for you.
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jiung-s · 3 months
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Jongseob ★ Killin' It (240208)
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apparently-artless · 4 months
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One Piece Egghead Arc Opening - あーーっす! by Kitadani Hirosjhi
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Danny covered his nose with his hand. Where ever he landed smelled absolutely foul, like rotten fruit and burning tires mixed with chem lab.
"Remind me to bring a face mask the next time I explore the Infinite Realms." He muttered, before kicking a soda can down the alley he was in and being repulsed by the squelch sound it made when it came into contact with a very questionable looking puddle, "Better yet, a gas mask." He glanced at the puddle again, "Or I could go full Hazmat." Clockwork had told him this world was full of superheros and villians and to steer clear of it, but once he learned there were aliens in this world he couldn't help himself. Danny had always been weak to his curiosity, but he liked to believe he was cautious, and chose to stay in his Phantom for for added protection.
Turning on his heel he exited onto a deserted street lined on one side by a chain-link fence. The sky above him was filled with clouds so ominous and dark that Danny honestly couldn't tell you if it was night or day, all he knew was that it was going to rain soon and hopefully these awful smells would be drowned out by the downpour.
Danny got his wish only minutes later. Thankfully Phantom was unbothered by the cold and could just bask in the rain as it fell apon him. A lesser known fact about ghosts is that thier clothes are made from thier ectoplasm and are part of thier bodies, much like a second layer of skin, so one would be able to feel things on thier clothes as easily as they would with thier bare skin. The level of sensitivity varies with the type of clothing however. All this to say Danny loved the feeling of the rivulets of rainwater traveling down his ghostly hazmat suit.
He was so preoccupied with enjoying the sensation that he didn't notice anything was wrong until he was jolted forward from the weight of someone landing on his back. The person was quick and precise, taking no time at all to have his wrists pinned behind his back and- weirdly enough- thier teeth digging into the material around his neck.
His parents designed the Hazmat suit Danny was wearing not only to deal with dangerous chemicals, but to fight supernatural foes. The area around the neck was reinforced with the intention of protecting against fatal gunshots and decapitations so naturally someone's jaw wasn't going to be enough to break through to his neck.
Danny let out a laugh as the person kept chewing on his neck like a confused puppy. Oh, Danny thought, they've gone feral. It was odd for someone to go feral but it could occur when a person has gone through something traumatic recently or through extreme stress. It made sense since the person ridding piggy back on him was dressed like a superhero. Danny wondered if that was why the person didn't have a scent. Danny learns facepalmed when he remembered that scentblockers existed and not everyone's scent dramatically changed whenever they went out as a hero. The scent change was probably one of the few things that have kept him alive up to this point to be honest.
"So, I guess you're not going to tell me why you're chewing on my neck like the worlds most pathetic vampire, are you?" No one deserves that title more than the fruitloop to be honest. He made a mental note to use that one against Vlad the next time he saw him.
Chewy whined at this, seeming to slump a bit from the apparent failure to bite him. What was that about? Was this actually a vampire? How would a vampire even react to Dannys ecto-blood combo meal anyway? Would it be like food poisoning? Or would it taste amazing from one undead to another. "I'm not exactly human, are you sure you wanna bite me? I might not taste so good." Danny warned, but the moment he mentioned letting the person bite him they were eager again.
Danny chuckled and unzipped the material only a bit before it was loose enough to move out of the way. The vampires bite came with a sharp pain like he expected but there was no suction. No drinking of blood. Just some weirdo biting Danny on the neck. Huh.
Danny hoped he didn't get rabies from this.
He must have accidentally said that out loud as there was a small laugh from the rooftops above them. There stood another person in a superhero outfit with some really tall dude dressed as a giant bat, and that was when Danny decided to bail. It was one thing to let a maybe vampire bite you in a random street in the middle of the night but more of them? And ones a big scary furry? Hard pass.
Phantom did as Phantoms do and went invisible and intangible, escaping from Biteys jaws and startling the heros. He ignored the distressed whine Munchy let out after loosing their spookyest chew toy and quickly rubbed the scent gland near dannys jaw on the top of thier head as an act of comfort before bolting.
----
Danny poked at the bite mark on his neck. Screw rabies, he better not get turned into a werewolf. He didn't need that on top of his ghostly crap. Sam seemed fascinated by the mark, after all, it wasn't every day that Danny got a scar, especially one so obvious. Most injuries heal quickly and leave no trace of him ever being injured in the first place which helped a lot in keeping his secret identity.
Luckily Danny hadn't needed to lie to mom and dad. He truthfully told them about some wierdo jumping off of a nearby rooftop and plunging thier teeth into his neck and that two other people had tried to corner him during this. He assured his mom that he had gotten away quickly but was a little shaken by it and his dad praised him for being brave and managing to escape.
That was nice. But he still had to figure out what was up with this bite...and why he felt so compelled to go back to that city.
Back to that hero.
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Aka an A/B/O au where in Danny's universe all the Alphas are extinct and the betas followed soon after and the DC universe all the Omegas went extinct and betas followed after . Not like a "they finally went extinct in the 1700s after centuries of thier numbers dwindling" thing and became a myth/fairytale (tho I like that too) but a "this might be the missing link between cave men and modern humans" kinda thing.
Its up to you which bat bit Danny and exactly what that means. I love abo aus without smut cause there's so much potential for chaos and I am very much ace.
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Warning. The following contains references to SH in Arc3. Please be carefull if this might be triggereing to you!
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Okay here the update on my personal au now containing Arc3 i hope this will be readable its all gotten a bit small! I am just making a whole new post for this updated version so its all in one place
Sorry if its hard to read id recommend reading the light and dark parts top to bottom on Arc3
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nerikgalaxy · 2 months
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Lawrence is singing a song from cary’s Robin💫b-flat
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sygneth · 10 days
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Things are starting to get awkward hehe
Part 5 of of Holmes' collage adventures
Chapter 1: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 Masterpost (Index) AO3
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swallowprettybird · 16 days
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while I'm preparing screenshots for the cursed chronicles, I brought you some footage from the shoot of Willow and her colleagues 🙃
thank you sm @kalino-thesims for this beautiful animal 🦓💛
What would you call a zebra?
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kikker-oma · 9 months
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Poor Four, he really has no idea what's happening to him 🥺
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frownyalfred · 2 months
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Forever thinking about ghost martha fic. except a/b/o where ghost martha is so worried about her o!grandson jason.
Ohhh, omega Martha Wayne would lecture Jason about EVERYTHING. His nest, his heat supplies, his use of alpha pheromones on patrol.
“That’s your nest?”
Jason flushed, ducking his head before Martha could see. “Don’t sound too excited.”
“That’s three t-shirts and a dish towel!”
“The three pack was on sale at the dollar store,” Jason defended, lip curling. “And I stole that dish towel from Alfred, because you said I needed something scented. Otherwise I would’ve just had the t-shirts!”
“Jason,” Martha said, an omega whine ringing through her words. “Jason, my love. These schmattes aren’t a nest. I almost mistook them for a laundry pile on the way in.”
“I don’t know what you—” Jason cut himself off before he could swear, watching Martha’s nostrils flare. “—want me to do. It’s my heat. My nest. I get to decide if it works. And this works.”
Martha followed him as he sat down heavily in the center of his “nest”, expression softening.
“You need a nice thick blanket,” she said after a moment, as if relenting. “I saw one on sale in the window on 5th yesterday. We’ll go after lunch.”
“We will?” Jason asked, not looking up from his hands. Maybe pre heat was coming on too quickly. He already felt sluggish.
“God willing,” Martha said. She leaned forward, lips twisting as her shoulders hiked back. “In the meantime — get your shoes off that shirt, young man. You weren’t raised in a barn.”
“Just the Narrows,” Jason choked out, grinning. He curled up in the nest, making sure to keep his boots clear of the white fabric.
“Just as I said,” Martha hummed. “Not a barn.”
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