#They’re technically for the kids but I sit on them whenever the kids don’t want to

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

The Urge to walk on things like they’re a balance beam

[fastcardotmp3]

Ronance; childhood friends; Barb Holland haunts the narrative; S1-2 AU; grief/mourning; 3.4k Written for @strangerthingsfemslash week day 1: different first meeting read day 2: women over thirty read day 3: secret relationship

Nancy technically meets her before she meets Barb, but the two events are inseparable in her memory. 

It all happens the same day, after all, five years old and being dropped off at a Summer day camp on the Hawkins High grounds because her mother is all ballooned up and wobbling with the little brother that’s already claimed the attention Nancy has gotten used to dominating. 

The day camp itself isn’t big because Hawkins isn’t either, but Nancy gets put in a room with the other first-graders-to-be and some teenager who seems infinitely old and wise from behind Nancy’s big round eyes and it feels big. She’s never spent all that much time with kids her own age before, not having made any proper friends in kindergarten and living in a house where day care was considered shameful since it meant Karen Wheeler wasn’t doing her job as a stay at home mom. 

This room is only kids her own age, though. A grand total of ten of them split into pairs of two and that’s when Nancy meets Robin, that’s why she technically meets her first. 

They’re declared buddies by the teenage girl in charge and told to stick together for the whole week they’ll spend here doing activities and playing games, and Nancy doesn’t know how to talk to kids her same age, but Robin doesn’t seem to have the same issue. 

She’s babbling about a book her mom is reading to her at bedtimes within the same second they’re turned loose with coloring pages and crayons, turning the leaves of a tree pink and orange and saving the green for the trunk. 

She’s got dirty blonde hair tied into two pigtails hanging over her shoulders and with pieces sticking out at the sides, but Nancy’s smart enough to know that just because a little girl talks to you doesn’t mean she wants to be your friend. 

It’s why she doesn’t talk much back, in those first five minutes before their lives are set on a path towards tragedy, because she isn’t sure how and she isn’t sure it’s worth it and she, generally speaking, isn’t sure. 

Five minutes. Nancy meets Robin first, in all technicality, and they might not have even been friends if it weren’t for a little redhead coming in and disrupting the even numbers as her frazzled mother apologizes for their lateness and—

Nancy meets Robin first, but it’s Barb that makes them what they are. 

She’s got these glasses that are too big for her face but just the right size for her attitude, all opinions and snark wrapped up in a little pink dress and white sneakers. They’re deemed the group of three in a class of pairs just by chance, just by the wave of a teenager’s hand making a decision that she’ll never think twice about but which will change all of their lives forever and which will— which will one day—

“Trees don’t look like that, you know,” Barb says as she peers over Robin’s shoulder, sitting up on her knees in the seat of the chair so she’s the tallest of them all. 

“Yeah, but I like it,” Robin responds simply, not an ounce of self-consciousness and not even an inkling that her feelings are hurt. 

“Okay,” Barb shrugs, like it’s easy as that, and then turns her attention across the small desk to Nancy. “Can I use your green?” 

Nancy hasn’t ever spent much time around girls her own age. Mostly they call her weird because she stares too much with eyes too big for her little face; mostly they don’t notice her at all because she doesn’t speak unless spoken too; mostly it’s her and her mom, but even that won’t last much longer, will it? 

Nancy stares at Barb across the table for a moment, so still in all this newness, but Barb doesn’t flinch. She just looks back at her expectantly, waiting for her question to be answered, waiting for Nancy to fill the empty space whenever she’s ready. 

“Here you go,” Nancy passes over her green crayon and Barb smiles. 

Robin tells them more about the book her mom is reading her at bedtimes. 

By the time they reach middle school they’re not just inseparable, they’re impenetrable. A trio— no more and no less— and anyone who tries to break that down or build it up simply can’t.

There’s no space for anyone else, not in romps through the woods in search of fairies and not in their corner of the lunch room where they gossip and giggle and roll their eyes at each other as much as the world around them. 

There’s no space for anyone but the three of them, and Nancy loves it. She loves being a part of this thing with these girls, not having to worry about relating to anyone but them and not having to be anyone other than herself. 

Because they allow that of her, don’t they? They drag out the dorky bits of her that don’t read ladylike the way she’s supposed to be and when they tease her it is as wonderful as it is relentless. 

Nancy chases Robin on their bikes down the road to the Holland house and they stay up all night watching movies and pretending that their laughter really is quiet enough to go unheard from upstairs. 

They’re thirteen when Robin, sitting out on the rickety dock over Lover’s Lake, looks down at her two friends clinging to the edge and still panting from trying to push each other under, says that Gareth Watson wants to go to the movies with me. 

And Nancy knows that something is off, even if she can’t tell what. Just because there’s no space for anyone else in their little world doesn’t mean she doesn’t still hear the way other girls their age talk. 

Boys and crushes and getting asked to the Snow Ball, it’s not the galaxy the three of them make their homes within, but she hears it. She knows. 

She senses the tension in Robin’s shoulders more than she even sees it, and she’s five years old and staring again. Staring to the point of eyes stinging and staring with ears burning as Robin and Barb go back and forth about it. 

Do you want to go to the movies with Gareth?

He’s a nice guy.

But do you want to?

I want to go to the movies with you guys.

Nancy stares, and her breath comes in sharp at the admission. She pulls herself up out of the water and sits on the edge of the dock shoulder-to-shoulder with Robin. 

“Then we’ll go to the movies,” she says, a nudge and a thought about plans for husbands and picket fences and babies and—

Her parents have been fighting a lot lately. 

Her parents have always been fighting, in their perfect little house at the end of the cul-de-sac. 

“We’ll all go to the movies, right, Barb?” she looks down, sees the way Barb looks up at her and feels that same itching at her skin, that sense of difference that’s chased her from childhood through to this moment and onwards forever. 

“Right,” Barb says with a small smile. 

Something goes loose in Robin’s posture. 

Something else moves them closer to the tipping point. 

Barb hates the idea of going to some party on a Tuesday night, but it’s Robin who hates the idea of Steve Harrington more specifically. 

It’s all is he even nice to you? with her. It’s all he’s a douchebag and do you know how he talks about girls? 

It’s all very vocal and it’s all very silly until it’s not and until it’s only two of them going to the Harrington house that night instead of all three. 

Nancy’s never gotten mad at Robin before, not like this anyway, not enough for them to split up like this, not go through what Nancy considers one of those teenage experiences they should be checking off together. 

“I could drive us to her place right now, you know,” Barb says from where they’re parked out on the street, Nancy changing out of one shirt and into a different, prettier one. 

“She didn’t want to come, Barbara.”

“Yeah, I wonder why, Nance!”

Barb doesn’t want to be here, but Nancy drags her along anyway. 

It’s Nancy who does it. 

It’s all Nancy. 

It will always have just been Nancy who brings Barb to that place and who lets all of her too-big feelings overflow past the flush of her skin and down the staircase to flatten her best friend for the second time in a day. 

It will always just be Nancy, trying to shake off all that sense of difference for one night, to just be normal, to be young and stupid. 

It will always be her fault, the blood that spills. 

“Something is wrong, something is so wrong, and no one is listening— Robbie, no one hears me, I’m just trying, I know I— I made you so mad and I’m so sorry, but we have to— no one is listening to me—”

“Okay, come here, I hear you, I know,” Robin drags Nancy the rest of the way through her ground floor bedroom window, the whole trembling and hysterical mess of her, and grips her tight in her arms. 

There’s no easy way to say it, that Nancy had taken her eyes off their best friend and now she’s gone. She’d taken her eyes off of her and let a boy touch her and now Barb is gone, Barb is gone and so is her car and nothing makes sense. 

There’s no easy way to explain it except the string of half-coherent confessions that spill out of her and onto the shoulder of Robin’s shirt— my fault it’s my fault it’s my fault mine mine my fault mine—

Robin is still upset with her. She’s upset about all of it, but Nancy knows she’s upset with her, even as they stumble into Jonathan Byers’ orbit and through the woods and into Hell. There’s a set to Robin’s mouth in everything she says, to her shoulders in every move she makes, that tells Nancy she’s messed it all up. 

She’s separated the inseparable, she’s broken the impenetrable. 

She’s ruined everything and Barb is dead and she is shooting a gun and burning a monster alive and she is the worst person on the planet because when Will Byers comes home, there’s a not small part of her which hates him. 

Someone took their eyes off of him too, but here he is. 

Someone let him get lost, but they’ll never have to live with the burden of not finding him again. 

Nancy ruined everything. 

“I need to go home,” Robin tells her when it’s all said and done and the Feds have driven away and the battle is over. 

Her voice cracks and her eyes dart everywhere except Nancy’s face and there are tears in her throat, Nancy hears them. 

“I need to go,” she repeats, clears her throat, and snatches her bike off the ground. 

They don’t speak for a year. 

She breaks Steve Harrington’s heart on Halloween and it feels like she’s dying. 

Her heart races too fast and her lungs don’t bring in enough air and she genuinely thinks this is the end, almost welcomes it, in fact. 

She breaks Steve Harrington’s heart and then before she knows it, she’s climbing through Robin’s bedroom window again. 

Crying again. 

Throwing up in a trash can, all stained in red, and passing out on her bed. 

It’s not that there hasn’t been space for words between them up until this point, but rather that there’s been too much of it. A whole person’s worth of emptiness too tender still to fill, but Nancy is drunk and she keeps hurting people in an effort to save herself and she doesn’t know that she can take it anymore— the unrelenting loneliness. 

She says as much, if in fewer and less coherent words, and Robin washes her face with a warm, damp washcloth on the floor of the bathroom before guiding her to bed and tucking them both between the twin-sized sheets. 

The space for words is massive, so impossible to breach. Nancy hopes that maybe the quiet and the dark and the surrealness of this moment might help cross that gap. 

I’m sorry. 

It’s not your fault, Nance. 

You can’t even look at me.

I don’t know how. 

To look at me?

To keep going. Without her. She didn’t even get a— a funeral, and I just. Don’t know how. 

A funeral. We need to give her a funeral. Her parents still think— they still believe—

I know. 

Robin, we have to give her a funeral. We have to prove that she’s…

Gone. 

Gone. 

Okay. 

Nancy’s never been one for mystery novels, never cared for the chasing of a puzzle like this. 

It doesn’t come to her naturally, but because she chooses it. It comes to her in a desperate feat of searching, of putting herself in dangerous situations because it’s the only option left if they’re going to be able to lay Barb to rest and grieve her out loud. 

Nancy scrambles through the mess of it, dragging them to the Lab for a long-shot attempt at catching them in a lie, dragging them to Illinois and a man who looks between the two of them with a knowing glint to his eye and a comment about oh, we liked Steve but he’s not really our type, is he? 

She and Robin sleep in the same bed because they’re in a stranger’s house and because suddenly the gaping, wide-open space between them feels painful. A tender bruise they’re prodding at with watered-down justice for the girl who made them. 

Because Barb did, didn’t she? In so many ways it was Barb who was the glue to their little trio. It was her house where they made their memories, it was her games they played, it was her confidence they chased through the creek on hot Summer days. 

Who are they without her? For the past year they’ve been nothing, been separate, been lost, but now there’s a sense of newness here. The painful sort of realization that maybe they are their own thing without her. NancyAndRobin. An entity all its own in the wake of what’s been stolen from them. 

They sleep in the same bed and then they return to Hawkins and another fight for humanity already in progress and by the time it’s all over for the second time around… 

“I missed you,” Robin admits, sitting on the hood of Nancy’s station wagon because neither of them are ready to go home yet, even if neither of them has said as much. 

The sun is rising out over Sattler’s Quarry where they’ve parked and the town feels heavy in its quiet, laden with more death and more hurt all over again. Bob Newby is dead and Nancy can’t really feel the weight of it. A whole lot of people at the Lab are dead and she can’t find it in herself to feel sorry for them. 

They brought this to their town. They’re the only ones other than herself where she can push blame. 

“Please don’t leave again,” Nancy croaks, no tears in her eyes but plenty of hoarse aftermath caught in her throat. 

“What?” 

“I can’t— After the funeral, if I lose you again—” she shakes her head, staring out at the rise of the sun, the fog hanging low atop the ground. “I can’t do it. I can’t keep—”

It gets stuck, the rest of the sentence, or maybe it’s just halted by the sudden drop of Robin’s hand above Nancy’s knee. Her fingers are so long, a spindly thing from the day they met, and Nancy has watched her grow into them with dexterous pressing of keys on her trumpet for so long. 

The touch itself is small, a single point of contact, and yet catastrophic to Nancy’s psyche all the same. She thinks about the last time Robin touched her, about a year ago in the Byers’ living room and the smell of gunpowder clinging to her clothes. 

It’s been a year. 

Nancy is a collapsing star, curling in on herself with the force of it, and although Robin doesn’t say it with her words, she does stay. 

She wraps her arms more fully around Nancy and she stays until the sun is in the sky again. 

On the day they bury an empty casket in the Hawkins Cemetery, Nancy laughs for the first time in over a year. 

A real laugh, no mask and no posturing, just genuine feeling spilling out of her body. 

There’s no closure here, not really, not when they can’t tell Barb’s parents what actually happened to her and not when Barb’s body will be forever lost to that terrible place, but something in Nancy snaps. 

In as good a way as snapping can go, probably. 

It’s like a piece of her settles in knowing that she did what she could, even if the grief isn’t remotely sated by the prospect. It’s like sitting down after too many hours spent on your feet, like release of tension, but maybe that’s just what it feels like when Robin holds her hand. 

They go out to Lover’s Lake when the service is done, when they’ve paid their respects and when they’ve had enough of curious and pitying looks shot at the girls who everyone knows knew her best. 

They sit at the end of the dock and pull their coats close around them against the cold of December, and although temperatures aren’t low enough for the lake to freeze, the water is frigid where it touches the tips of her fingers as she sets a tea light out to float. 

Nancy curls in close against Robin, sharing the warmth of bodies and watching orange flicker over the rippling surface of the water where they once made Summer days endless. 

You know there are weeds at the bottom that will wrap around your ankle and drag you under, right? Barb would tease at Nancy when they were ten, eleven, twelve. Little tentacles that’ll grab you! 

And then she’d push her weight against Nancy’s shoulders to dunk her in all of her squealing glory, Robin cackling from the dock before diving in to join. 

They don’t speak now, don’t tease, but Nancy wonders if Robin is thinking about it too. All the little comments Barb would make about their melancholy, all the pride she’d take in being missed so deeply. 

Nancy looks over, barely an inch between them, only to find Robin’s gaze already roaming across her curled-up form at the end of the dock. Her hands and wrists, her neck where her scarf comes loose, the undeniable pink of her nose and cheeks. 

Nancy watches her back, watches her focus travel, watches the winter-faded freckles on her cheeks glisten in the orange glow of an early sunset. 

She can’t help it, ultimately. Robin touches her again, but Nancy is greedy and Nancy needs more and she just needs to know, needs to test—

Robin tastes like the wind when Nancy kisses her, all cold and chapped. The surprised hum at the back of her throat is Nancy’s new favorite song and the fabric of her mitten where it comes up to cup at Nancy’s jaw is her favorite dance. 

She tastes like salt and she tastes like the little cheese cubes that they served with crackers at the wake and she tastes like the stuttering breath on Nancy’s own tongue as she pulls away quick after too-short a time. 

Robin looks at her still, watches her, but this time focused entirely on her eyes. Her lips are parted in stunned quiet and her eyebrows are pulled together all confused and sweet and wonderful. 

Nancy is filled with a fondness she can’t carry and she is overflowing with a loss she still knows is her own fault, no matter how many times Robin tries to tell her otherwise nowadays. 

Robin looks at her, still holding her face in one hand and hardly breathing. 

“Will you help me cut my hair short?”

On the day of her best friend’s funeral, Nancy Wheeler laughs. 

It doesn’t matter that she’s crying when she does. 

[strideofpride]

Season 3 of Gossip Girl was so aggressively mediocre tbh, like people bitch a lot about season 5, but at least that had some interesting drama interspersed into the poorly written storylines! The Serenate romance arc and the Dan/Blair popular kid/loser role reversal plots were fun, and the parts of Jenny’s arc that didn’t feel like character assassination were compelling, but outside of that…

Honestly I think the biggest issue was shifting things from being a Serena-centered school drama to a Chuck-centered business drama. The Bass Industries plot ended up dominating the season, and it wasn’t even conceptually interesting. Like the writers were trying to do their own pseudo-pre-Succession thing with Chuck, but they just slapped it right in the middle of a CW teen drama without any of the scaffolding to support it. “Will Chuck live up to his dead father’s expectations? Can he build his own empire, or will he squander his legacy?? Who’s his real mom, and what does she want?!” I don’t care, I really don’t care, and I wish she had wanted an abortion so I didn’t have to sit through 22 episodes of this. What the fuck is going on with Serena and why is Nate dating a republican???

(Okay also, if I’m being completely fair, the S3 Thanksgiving episode really did deliver. And I genuinely enjoyed the Dan/Nate friendship moments sprinkled throughout, as well as the periodic Dan/Blair and Dan/Georgina hijinks whenever they popped up. But those parts of the season got way less screen time than the Chuck/Chair angst, Serena’s suddenly urgent and all-consuming daddy issues, the weirdly bad Dan/Vanessa plot, or all of the nothing they were doing with Nate. The writers consistently prioritized the least interesting storylines that season.)

Yes, exactly! S3 had pockets of interesting stuff, like S5, but it was largely so dull and yeah, it *is* cause of all the “Chuck the teenage businessman stuff” (technically his only business is The Empire in s3, he doesn’t actually take over Bass Industries until Lily tries to sell it in s4). Plus, I always find Chuck boring when he’s in romantic hero mode, so the one-two of that is soooo. Ugh.

Also like…do c/hair fans actually like where they took that relationship in season 3? Cause I feel like the whole season was just a good case study of why they’re a horrible couple. Like they start off the season already doing sex games to spice things up after three months, then Chuck gets all mad at Blair for meddling with The Empire (they even say at one point they only make a good team when they have an enemy to scheme against like??? That sounds unhealthy bro). Then there’s all of Chuck’s mommy & Uncle Jack drama, where he basically shuts Blair out. Then he trades her for a hotel and then he tries to control her dating life after they break up and then he can’t even wait an hour and has dubious consent sex with Jenny like. Their dating season is so Bad for them actually.

And I don’t even get some schadenfreude from it cause once again: it’s all so fucking boring.

[trans-wojak]

Cool so if misandrist anon gets to be a hateful bitch to all men do i get my get out of jail free misogynist card? I've been sexually harrassed as a 10 year old by both, but men were forced to apologize to me by other men and women, while if i was harassed by women, they thought they did absolutely nothing wrong even though i felt way more violated. I was only ever groped by women in my whole entire life. It heavily affected how my sexual orientation manifests (my attraction to women can be uncomfortable because of fear of them breaching my boundaries and treating it as an innocent joke). Men are always friendly and speak kindly to me at work but women keep taking out their anger from home at me. My boss is completely ostracised by women at work because she (yes, my boss is a woman! And her boss is a woman too!) reminds them of company policies when they get ridiculous with their demands, like wanting to have double break time compared to other departments and do no extra work to make up for it. We have one other man in the department and they keep emotionally manipulating him into working second shift in the evenings week after week because they don't want to do it, despite it being literally part of their job to be on rotation for the second shift (he shouldn't be doing this because it breaks worker safety laws).

Radfems are so fucking stupid it's unreal

Literally, like I’m technically bisexual but I have a preference for men. But I also find it’s just too hard to date women, I always constantly got put down for the same behaviours THEY do (being open about attraction and talking openly about sex). One time when I lived in shared housing, it was predominantly with women and we had music videos playing. A chick appeared wearing short shorts and I said “hell yeah” - I immediately got attacked by the girls in the room, along with my ex girlfriend trying to tell me I don’t need to be a womaniser to “act like a cis man” to be a man. While those same women would sit around discussing in detail how much they love big cocks, eating ass and licking out pussy.

I’ve been groped by a woman before, and when I tried to tell people in the friend group they told me it was my own fault for not speaking up when it happened and she didn’t really mean it. But if a man did that, they would have called him a violent rapist. Like, I wasn’t even trying to get her to be “cancelled” I’m pretty sure some of it was a misunderstanding cause I went into freeze mode but when I told her about it, she blew me off and tried to say if I don’t speak up it’s my own fault.

Also, whenever I rejected sexual advances from ex girlfriends cause I wasn’t in the mood they would start accusing me of not thinking they’re pretty/hot and I’m like no I just don’t feel like it. I wasn’t given any gentle affection, it always was assumed I wanted sexual intercourse if I was affectionate when really I just wanted to cuddle.

I swear some women will use the fact they have kids to get out of doing their part at work. It’s one thing for people to be courteous and help out but to basically force others to take all the “bad” shifts is so frustrating. Especially when these days, both parents work. And women are allowed to be verbally aggressive and no one thinks is wrong, but if a guy does it everyone acts like it’s the same as physical violence. Whereas for me, I see it the same way. At the share house, one of the women and me got into an argument. She started yelling, screaming and throwing things. I told her let’s stop please, this is scaring me. She started laughing at me and got even MORE aggressive. Like I had to threaten to call the police to get her to stop.

I try very hard to be conscious, I’m on the spectrum and at times I don’t realise the volume of my voice. Especially when I feel strong emotions. When women have told me it’s making them uncomfortable, I ask why (cause I don’t realise my voice volume) and they accuse me of pretending to not know.

Being an autistic man is harder than an autistic woman. Autistic women are seen as cute, quirky and shown sympathy for mishaps in social interactions. People assume the best intentions from them. But autistic men are seen as creepy and full of ill motives. My life was easier when I was a girl cause no one treated me with all these rigid boxes. Now I’m treated as a fucking creep automatically.

I see women as people and people can be crappy. They aren’t special. They shouldn’t be granted special treatment just for being a woman.

[ciaossu-imagines]

For the Disney day of the event, to kind of take a beloved topic and use it for the various fandoms, I decided to do a little post about the Mystic Messengers and their favourite Disney characters! I hope you lovelies will enjoy!

Jihyun’s mother liked to show him Disney movies in various languages on the rare occasions she got to spend overnights with him. She would always end their evenings with one before bedtime, so V became knowledgeable about at least the classic Disney movies. He always particularly loved Belle from Beauty and the Beast. She loved the Beast for everything he was, even the worst of him, was truly kind while being intelligent and he loved everything about that movie, from the love story to the songs to the art and the villains.

Jumin has watched almost all the Disney films as they came out and has been to the majority of the Disney parks. His father definitely thought that Disney was something of a cultural touchstone, especially among children, and that it would give Jumin something to talk about with other children, such as those born to the Chairman’s business contacts. Because Jumin grew up with them, he finds he has a nostalgic connection with Disney and does keep up with the newer movies. His favourite is a more recent one, but he really enjoys Coco. The music, the colours and art, the storyline, he felt it was all really beautiful. However, as much as he loves the movie and feels for the main character, his favourite character is still from the classic movies, Quasimodo. It was actually the animated Hunchback of Notre Dame that made Jumin want to go and read the classic novel.

Zen loves Disney movies because they’re the perfect mix of music and story. He prefers the movies that have more music in them and can do perfect renditions of all of his favourite Disney songs, especially ‘Go The Distance’ from Hercules. Speaking of Hercules, it’s his second favourite Disney movie. Aladdin just barely tops it out for his most favourite and it’s Aladdin himself who is Zen’s favourite Disney character.

Jaehee has actually gone her whole life without seeing any of the animated Disney films. Any Disney film she has seen is only because it was a film made by someone else that Disney acquired the rights to. Because of this, she does technically have a favourite Disney character, with it being Maria from The Sound of Music.

Yoosung actually is another one who really does enjoy Disney films, even as an adult. He’s watched the majority of the classics, with The Lion King being his favourite. He loves Simba and kind of wished he could be like Simba when he was a kid, but as an adult, his favourite character would have to be Marlin from Finding Nemo. That movie always makes Yoosung tear up every time he watches it.

Saeyoung gets into moods where he’ll want to binge Disney films, just because they’re usually light watches, with happy endings and catchy music, and they don’t take a lot of mental power to watch. He really, really connected to Stitch from Lilo & Stitch for reasons he can’t even rightly explain and it’s his favourite Disney character by far.

Saeran, for the aesthetics and for the story, really does enjoy The Nightmare Before Christmas and Hocus Pocus both. They’re the only Disney movies he really watches with any regularity, as Disney movies aren’t normally really his thing. His favourite character is actually Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas, with Binx from Hocus Pocus being a really close second.

Vanderwood has actually never watched a Disney movie in his life up until he met Saeyoung. It’s Seven who makes Vanderwood sit through them whenever Saeyoung gets in a Disney mood, so his choice of characters is based off the maybe four Disney movies he’s ever seen. I do think Vanderwood really enjoys the more live action Disney movies, and his favourite is Tron Legacy, with Sam Flynn being his favourite Disney hero.

Rika always connected more with the villains in Disney films than the heroes. It’s really hard for her to pick an absolute favourite among them but she’s really fond of both Maleficent and Ursula. She especially loves Ursula’s voice, which she finds really soothing for some reason and she knows all the words to ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’.

[reikane-enthusiast]

erm, a compiled list of all the notes I have on paper and all the notes in my brain for an upcoming..project.

(( TECHNICALLY THIS ENTIRE POST CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE DRA DEATHS..BUT. I don’t specify anything ))

gameplay notes..but I can’t code :

from hours 8 AM to 11 PM no anomalies will or can occur. ( unless glitched )

12:00 PM exact is lunchtime and is the only time when other students can appear in the library. Lunchtime can also have a triggered cut scene of either of the two ( image under writing but not here for sillies ) sitting with *.

Once the distraction meter ( during daytime only ) gets to middle point * will have the ability to ‘shoo’ or just get the distraction away. ( this will trigger the dialogue of “ get out, I’m studying. “ )

a distraction is a student outside of the library either trying to form a conversation with * , talking at her, or being ‘loud’. Certain students will not do normal actions, but have special dialogue instead.

if the distraction meter fills all the way up, * will get up and yell at the distraction / student. This will cause a game over.

during 12 AM to 8 AM anomalies will occur.

what are anomalies? :

Short : corpses

Long : Manifestations of *’s PTSD, possibly ghosts?..but that’s unlikely. They’re also kind of like hallucinations however *SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER*

anomalies :

( no data found for #1. )

#2, (( she really only hangs from the ceiling and is..almost non lethal. She cries out for help a lot, for someone to save her, for her brother…I’ll have to tell him sometime, not now though. Maybe it’s her ghostly wails or whatever that kills me..

#3,(( I..don’t remember what happened to her but I don’t really want to, she’s only ever in the hallways..running. I can hear her. Is it the sound? Maybe.. Maybe it’s the ringing in my ears.

#4 (( you were a bitch. However..I..don’t think you deserved that. She sits next to me a lot. I can smell the blood and the metal. She wouldn’t be dangerous if she didn’t kill with her touch, however, unfortunately she does.

#5 (( He’s on the walls, literally. and of course the wood is rotting. His blood always finds its way to me somehow, it works like acid once it hits me.

#6 (( This one is barely threatening, I think he’s just upset. He doesn’t try to hurt me , I know that, but whenever he gets close to me it hurts. It’s like I’m being repeatedly stabbed in the neck.

#7 (( I can hear her screams, constantly. I can hear the electric shocks. She reaches out her hand and then it’s just.. pain. The shocks..she’s sharing them. like the other one..she’s not trying to hurt me actively. none of them are, really.

#8 (( Idiot.. that doesn’t feel right to say though. You were stupid, but in that trial..you were just so— … She doesn’t seem sad unlike the others, she sits next to me too..trying to make me laugh. But when I look at her..when I finally see her face again..it’s over.

#9 (( You were also stupid. I knew what you were hiding, but outing you wouldn’t make me feel better. You were..kind of gross, but trying to fit in wasn’t easy..was it? I’m sorry you went out that way. Sometimes him and * are together, I can’t look at them either..despite how happy it appears they are together. Even if it was just a facade he needed to keep up during that time, I think they’re better off because they’re actual friends now.

#10 (( The blood from her mouth and her eyes gets on me even though shes far away, it seeps into my skin, her words seep into my brain..my own blood..everything. I’m sorry *. Sometimes she stands over me. Watching my every move..then the blood really hurts.

#11 (( I didn’t know you then, I didn’t remember you then, but now I do. You were a good brother from what I heard. I remember how * talked about you, how she was always wondering about your inventions.. I know you pushed her away when you guys were kids too. I can hear you making fun of her somehow, teasing her, bullying her around.. and it burns my ears sometimes. I don’t know how I hear it..but..it’s something to hold on to. He never shows up visually, but I feel his presence. I’ve never..seen you.

#0 (( She’s the closest to me always, she only shows up in the end. She grabs me by the face and forces me to look at her, shes crying..she’s grinning too though. ..But she doesn’t look injured, dead, none of that. I don’t think we ever confirmed she was dead, we just assumed she had drowned or bled out because that made the most sense. But now that I think of it, maybe you aren’t.

#0.1 (( *’s not really an anomaly..since..he can’t hurt me and he’s not dead. He’s more like protection. He keeps the actual anomalies away , I don’t really know how.. I guess **** made it up so that I could finally study.

extras! ,, based on the unused executions. :

#12 (( I remember watching you die. I thought it was kind of funny how you went out, getting arrested and all. Then you blew up.. that was..less funny. He smells like sulfur and ash..sometimes cement, sometimes he smells like burnt plastic. when he touches me it burns my flesh, I guess he wants me to feel the pain too.

#13 (( He’s connected by veins , almost like a fleshy spider. His blood unlike *’s isn’t acidic, but is definitely venomous. I hate looking at him, but it’s the only way to keep him away. I’ve only ever had one question.. Why? , Why’d you do it *? You were an idiot..but I didn’t think you were that afraid..and that fucking stupid. Then again, we we’re kids..so..I can’t entirely blame you for letting your fear take over.

[scoopsgf]

RECKLESS ABANDON - CH. 12 IS UP

summary:

Eli is the first goodbye.

They sit side by side on the concrete stoop outside his building. His shoulders are sloped with defeat, and he’s fingering a cigarette but he hasn’t lit up yet.

“You trust these people?”

“No,” Rory says, arms wrapped around her knees. “I mean, I want to seeing as they’re technically my family or whatever, but it’s not like I know them all that well.”

“So why go?”

“Where else am I gonna stay?”

Eli turns. “Are you kidding me?” he asks, all fierce and fire—he gets that from Constance and they all know it, but they’d never stoop so low as to say it out loud. “You’ve gotta be high if you think Abuela and I wouldn’t move heaven and fucking Earth for your twiggy ass.”

Rory isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Settles for some in-between, quickly swiping tears away before they can fall. God, this is so hard. She thought Eli would be the easiest for some reason, maybe because he’s normally so sweet about everything, but instead it feels like a piece of her is being chipped away. What if she never sees him again? Or Constance, or even Ezzie, who was never quite around but still made sure to buy Rory’s favorite snacks whenever she went shopping, and lent her clothes to wear, and ruffled her hair in passing?

“I don’t wanna be an inconvenience,” she whispers, hiding in the burrow of her arms for a beat to collect herself.

Eli ducks down. “Never,” he says firmly. “Fucking never. I—Jesus. Eres parte de mi alma, understand?”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

EVERY FOUNDER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT FOUNDERS

You'd expect that if the founders at one end were distinguished by the presence of quality x, at the other end, and offer programmers more parallelizable Lego blocks to build programs out of, like Hadoop and MapReduce. And yet when I describe these ideas you may notice you find yourself thinking that life is too short for something, you should try to prove it, because technology changes so rapidly that formerly bad ideas often become good without anyone noticing. The worst problem was that he wanted his own computer. Steve Wozniak design a computer he could afford. That's a reasonable proxy for revenue growth because whenever the startup does start trying to make money, and making money consists mostly of errands. There's nothing more than the founders, and there is something grand about that. Adults can't avoid seeing that teenage kids are unhappy.

It's not just that I miss her but that I think of all the search engines were not as good as they could be. Some works of art are meant to shock, and others to please; some are meant to jump out at you, and others to please; some are meant to shock, and others to sit quietly in the background. Now adults have no immediate use for teenagers. So Yahoo's sales force had evolved to exploit this source of revenue. Usually successful startups happen because the founders are good enough salesmen to compensate. Plus most of them a part time job. So things don't happen in the smooth, predictable way they do in the rest of the class, I just skimmed the Cliff's Notes, it turned out. The more versatile the tool, the less you need the desktop. And if you have such an idea and don't grow fast enough, competitors will. Google has now, but way meaner. Which means that any sufficiently promising startup will be offered money on terms they'd be crazy to refuse. Just continue running your company as if this deal didn't exist.

But if ephemeralization is one of those ideas that's like an irresistible force meeting an immovable object. People are all over this idea lately, and I haven't seen much since to contradict it. But when you ask adults what they got wrong at that age. As food got cheaper or we got richer; they're indistinguishable, eating too much started to be a great thing that Apple tablets have accelerometers in them. There is a lot more work than waiting. Cancer will show up on some sort of padding to protect their misconceptions from bumping against reality. That's why people proposing to destroy it use phrases like adult supervision.

What's different about successful founders is that they get paid by getting their capital back, ideally after the startup IPOs, or failing that when it's acquired. Or would super-angel has some of the effect of first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters. And you know what? If you write software to teach English to Chinese speakers, however, approach our goal from another direction, by using ourselves as guinea pigs. But it wasn't just optimal in that sense. One reason they were excited was Yahoo's revenue growth. Till now, VCs' claims about how much value they added were sort of like the government's. Or is it just something nice? We have a phrase to describe what happens when rankings have to be on the smart side of average rather than the median, you can do the initial intros knowing that if you want to define a plus for a new search engine, for example, that you're going to succeed no matter what, and the VCs will gradually figure out ways to make more, smaller bets, and they did it. Nine times out of ten, sitting around strategizing is just a matter of personal preference. GMail, but fast, that alone would let you start to pull users away from GMail.

Or the would-be app stores will be too overreaching, or too technically inflexible, and companies will arise to supply payment and streaming a la carte to the producers of drama. When you're working on something that isn't released, problems are alarming. The unsuccessful founders weren't stupid. The least popular group is quite small. Kids are less perceptive. If you lack commitment, you'll just find that for some mysterious reason good things happen to your competitors but not to you. Hard as it is to travel widely, in both time and space.

Thanks to Savraj Singh, Fred Wilson, Sam Altman, Robert Morris, Tiffani Ashley Bell, and Aaron Swartz for reading a previous draft.

[bevswashere]

Koi No Yokan

Chapter 27: Before Graduation

March 2009 Nearly two years later.

“A beer for me. And you two?” Patiently she looks at us, and the waiter follows suit. “Don’t be shy now. Your Senpai’s are splitting the bill for your twentieth birthday tonight, Kaede-chan.” 

“Oh.” Mei Mei neglects to acknowledge that we’re both still eighteen, wearing our high school uniforms on a Friday evening. She also neglects to point out that my birthday isn’t for another couple weeks, and she probably won’t be one of those Senpais covering the bill. “I guess a beer for me too.

“Me as well,” Nanami says. 

When the waiter leaves, Mei Mei’s lips thin into an alluring smile, painted in a deep shade of red, “For a special grade you sure seem to buckle under the pressure when breaking the rules, Kaede-chan.” 

The fabric of my pants ball up into my fists, growing clammy with sweat. I hadn’t realized how long it’s been since I’ve interacted with someone other than Nanami, let alone a group. “I’m not used to it.”

“Really?” she folds her arms above her chest. “You should practice it more. It might prove useful for you once you’re out in the real world.”

“She won’t need it, Mei-san,” Shoko says, a nicotine patch affixed to her inner wrist. “Kaede-chan’s seen plenty of the real world. She’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I’m sure, but it can never hurt,” Mei Mei says. “In a lot of cases it’s safer to break the rules, don’t you think, Ieri-chan?”

“I don’t know about safer,” Shoko sighs. She’s grown her hair out. “Easier maybe?”

Past the four of us, the table is lined with Utahime Senpai, Chihiro, several of the kids I knew from Kyoto, and other freelance workers with close ties to the technical schools. All part of some unofficial get-together we’ve been thrown into. 

I can tell Nanami is uncomfortable too. The past year has made us quite averse to other people, being constantly sent out overseas, avoiding our underclassmen whenever we’re back. Every time I walk past them I can tell they’re intimidated. Perhaps they think us cruel or snobbish, giving the time of day only to semi-first grades or higher. They can think whatever they want. At least Nanami or myself won’t have to mourn them if they die. Most of the time we hide away in his room. Nanami will read, and I’d keep myself present, sleeping or on a computer or whatever else. Then we’re sent away again. We isolated ourselves, sure, but like Shoko said, it’s “easier.”

“Uematsu-san.” A boy from Shigeri’s graduating class in Kyoto calls out to me from the middle of the table. “I heard you recovered one of Ryomen Sukuna's fingers the other day.” 

“Another one?” Mei Mei hums. “You know those are supposed to be incredibly hard to find.”

“Really?” I wipe my hands against my clothes. “It doesn’t seem that way.” 

Some of the people at the table snicker when I say this. Kei, the former Kyoto student now working as a grade one freelancer, comments, “It is strange, though, how the same person has recovered all five fingers herself. You would think they’re almost drawn to you.” 

When I feel their eyes on me, I focus on Nanami’s. The higher-ups' plans to keep all of it a secret changed shortly after Suguru defected. They let the news circulate, then the rumors. I realized then that the plan was never about controlling the chaos, but about controlling me. My movements, my ambitions. Leaving me under a spotlight to keep me unsuspect, instead of festering in the shadows as he’d done. 

A new window for Tokyo, sitting next to Chihiro-chan, innocently asks, “Why would they be drawn to Uematsu-san?”

“Who’s to say?” Kei shrugs. “Those fingers are fragments of Sukuna’s soul. It’s possible they could recognize her and make themselves known when she’s near.” 

“Or it’s all one big coincidence,” Shoko says, restlessly chewing on the straw of her drink. 

“Do coincidences really happen five times?” Kei says, as the front door rings and someone announces, “Oh, Gojo-san!” 

I feel my heart drop, turning my head to see him come through the front door, the frames of his glasses, the hooded sweatshirt I used to borrow. He smiles and he waves at everyone.

“We can leave,” Nanami whispers.

“It’s fine,” I lie, and Mei-san smiles when I make the request, “Do you think you could order something a little stronger for me?” 

I think it started when Satoru graduated last year. He opted for the freelance route outside of Tokyo High, instantly bombarded with mission after mission, curse after curse. Sometimes it would take him weeks to come home, only for me to be assigned overseas. By the time I’d come back, he’d be gone again, and the cycle continued. When we were together, it became harder to steer the conversation away from anything Jujutsu or strength involved. 

I stir at the mention of his name. "What about Shigeri?" I say carelessly to someone across the table I'd never spoken to previously.

"You haven't heard?" Kei pauses, scoffs. "Well, of course you haven't. He abandoned the Kamo clan all of a sudden. Took his sister with him and everything." 

I digest her words slowly, thinking about the letters we'd send back and forth. Until those inevitably slowed and faded away just as everything does. "Is he okay?"

"Who knows?" Kei takes a sip of her beer. "Nobody's heard from him for four months now." 

I stayed in Satoru's room until it ended. I’d sleep in his bed, wear the clothes and watch the movies he’d left with me to help distract myself from his absence. But eventually, it became too great to ignore. We’d set up times to meet, and Satoru, who used to always be early to see me, started showing up later and later, canceling at the last minute. One of the last times it happened, I remember waiting in Shinjuku for so long that I fell asleep on the pavement. When Satoru finally arrived, he said nothing about being late or my sleeping on the side of the street, because he was too caught up in finally figuring out Domain Expansion. All of our plans were canceled that night so he could demonstrate this for me, and then leave a few hours later. 

The next time we set up to meet, I waited for hours again only for him to never arrive. So I went back to the school, back to his room, and I remember not even feeling angry. I understood somehow that he was busy. After that, I didn’t see him again for two months. 

Mei-san refills her glass and then mine with another round of shochu. “You should slow down,” Nanami tells me.

Our glasses clink as we cheers, then the glasses are empty once again. “You should respect your elders.”

“Elder by three months.” 

My words spill over one another. “And five days.”

He sips his second beer, “I don’t want to hear anything about you feeling sick later.” 

I thought drinking might make it easier to sit at this table with Satoru, easier to ignore him speaking with Kei for the past hour. I thought it might make me forget all the anger and hurt I harbor towards him. Instead I feel all of the heartache tenfold, and compare myself to the beauty of Kei, wondering how long before he’ll see it too. The thought sickens me, not the alcohol. 

“Excuse me,” I get up from the table, and stumble into the bathroom, dipping my head down towards the sink to rinse my face with cold water. 

After not hearing from him for two months, Satoru came to Jujutsu High unannounced and said, “I think it’s time we called this off.”

“What did I do?” was the first thing I remember wanting to ask. “Is there something wrong with me? Am I not strong enough?” We hadn’t slept together in a long time, but “Is sex too dull with me? Is it my shoes, my hair, anything in between? Is it the way I speak or that I’m not speaking enough? Tell me. What did I do? What have I done to make you not love me anymore?” But I didn’t say any of that, or anything at all. I walked away without uttering a single word.

I press the bathroom door, let it swing open as I step out and feel an arm immediately hold me steady. It’s a warmth I haven’t felt in a year. “Did you throw up?” I look up at him, feel his palm press against my forehead. “What’s wrong with you? You know you can’t handle your alcohol.” 

I’m staring at him. The perfect outline of his face and the way his hair spills down into it. The rose tint of his lips and the way one of his ears is slightly more pointed than the other. “Why are you talking to me?”

His hand falls from my face, “I was worried about you.”

I stare and stare, until Nanami comes to my rescue and pulls me back to reality, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

“I can help get her home,” Satoru offers.

“No, we can handle it.” Nanami places my jacket in my arms, and slowly I feel Satoru let go of me, as I’m led out of the restaurant and back into the open air. 

“You can stay here tonight in case there’s an emergency.”

I fall down on the edge of his bed. “Why can’t I be in love with someone more like you?”

“Someone who could love Gojo Satoru couldn’t possibly be in love with someone like me,” he answers diplomatically, lining his shoes up neatly besides the dresser, “It makes no logical sense.” 

“Logic isn’t the point, though.” I remove my shoes and let him set them next to his own. “Something’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He takes out a shirt and joggers from his closet, “You can’t control being in love with an idiot,” then pulls a second pair out. “Clothes?”

I stretch my arms out, and the clothes land in my grasp. Facing other ends of the room, we change out of our uniforms, then Nanami turns the light off and we lay down with our heads on opposite ends of the mattress. 

“Don’t let me drink again.”

“I told you to slow down.” 

“Well, we both know by now I can’t make good decisions,” I groan. “From now on you make all of my decisions for me.”

“I don’t want that responsibility.”

“What?” I whine, poking his calf next to me. “Why not?”

“I’ll kick you,” he warns. “Too many people rely on you.” 

“No one relies on me.” Silence settles between us in the darkness. “Do you think it’ll be more like this once we graduate?” I ask. “We won’t have to be by ourselves all the time? 

“I don’t know.” He sighs deeply. “Kaede, about after graduation…”

“Oh, did you decide if you’ll stay on campus or not?” A decision that’s crossed my mind more frequently as graduation approaches. I figured whatever Nanami decides would steer my decision too. He doesn’t answer me, though. “Nanami?”

“We’ll talk about it another time,” he says. “Go to sleep, Kaede-chan.” 

[tvstarkuma]

Kanji didn't stop by Junes often. Spare cash wasn't often, and with Senpai being gone, the gang usually got together elsewhere -- someone's house, by the sidewalk for something meat related (Chie wouldn't allow them not to stop)... but not Junes, not usually. Bag in tow, his head held high - not by means of confidence, but on the search for a specific sort of ...

... Fur.

"Yo, Ted," he was working on his birthday? ... arrival? whatever Teddie deemed this hot as hell day. "You still on the job?"

Obviously. Regardless.

"Happy ... birthday, I guess? Happy anniversary? I got - er, made you somethin', technically. If ya' don't like it, there's a thrift store you can sell it to down the road a-ways. It's not much, but..."

Inside the colorful bag, happily spouting "happy birthday!" in loopy, bold colors, sat a similar bear. Big, but not large; two rounded ears, color a light salmon. The details were darker, a sorta' ocean blue, with the bear sporting a happy, closed smile. Three buttons, arms stretched wide for a hug.

"We're happy to have you, Ted."

For the Inaba branch of Junes, this was the anniversary of the first day they had their unique mascot. Not officially on the books, that’s in a few days, but this was the first day Teddie was ever in the store. He spent most of his first day here and some onlookers still remember the first day of Teddie the Junes mascot turned pretty boy.

Junes was important to Teddie. Coming in and working as a mascot was part of his celebration. The kids were happy to see him as always. A few have wished him a happy birthday and told him how much they’re glad he’s the mascot. This food court held many precious memories that he never wants to forget. On his special day, he should remember how he first came to this world.

“Kanji!” Teddie happily waved at his friend. The bag was definitely noted but he didn’t mention it for now.

“I had to. They couldn’t go on without me today. I’m an essential part of Junes now!” Truth be told, he was asked if he wanted today off and he said it was fine. He’ll take his birthday off tomorrow. Mascot shifts don’t last too long, anyway.

“It’s my Birthday-versary! The day my beautiful, pretty boy self blessed the world!” So it could count as both.

No time was wasted in opening Kanji’s present. Teddie already guessed he made something for him and was eager to know what. This was the fastest present opening he’s ever done. Not that he’s had many. The present inside was even better than Teddie could’ve hoped. A blue bear hand-made with love and eager for hugs. Its purpose was soon granted as Teddie gave it a tight squeeze.

“Kanji, I love them! I’m going to bring my little bear with me to bed every night. He’s going to sit there whenever I’m not around.” A few head scratches for the new bear, “I’ll call him little Kan-Kan after you. And I wouldn’t trade him for the world.”

[adamwatchesmovies]

Spy Kids: All the Time in the World (2011)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

The special effects have gotten better, which technically makes Spy Kids: All the Time in the World superior to Spy Kids 3D: Game Over. In terms of story, characters, plot, humor, action and imagination? This is miles below the promising debut we had in 2001. At home, you can’t watch it in 4D Aroma-scope "as it was intended” but I can’t imagine those scratch and sniff cards would’ve made any difference.

While stopping criminal Tick Tock (Jeremy Piven), OSS agent Marissa Wilson (Jessica Alba) goes into contractions. Her mission accomplished, she decides to call it quits and raise her new baby with her husband (Joel McHale). Soon after, Tick Tock escapes and with the help of a criminal mastermind named The Time Keeper, they begin disrupting time itself. Hours pass away like seconds. The villains' minions attack Marissa's homee, revealing to her step children (Rowan Blanchard as Rebecca and Mason Cook as Cecil) that their stepmother is a spy. With the help of their robotic dog Argonaut (Ricky Gervais), the kids set out to stop the villains.

Want to send your friends to the hospital? Play the “Spy Kids 4” drinking game. Whenever someone says “Time", “Clock”, “Hour”, “Minute” or “Second”, someone takes a shot. If those words are inside a crappy pun, take TWO shots. They’ll be suffering from alcohol poisoning in no time.

Say what you will about Alexa Vega and Daryl Sabara (who appear in brief cameos and I’m sad to say have not become better actors since the previous films) but they had a certain appeal and presence. Their replacements have neither. You don’t care about them. To be fair, the young performers didn’t have a chance. This script and story is appalling. The “smell-o-vision” employed is little more than an excuse to have green fart clouds fly around the screen and poopy diapers tossed at bad guys. It's so juvenile you'll be admit you sat through the film. Wait, that explains it. Who else would accept this shoddy a story but the smallest kids? The kind who will laugh at ANYTHING?

From the first scene, you know the movie’s going to be rough. Marissa is running around, chasing Tick Tock while 9 months pregnant. Does the OSS have no other agents? She practically gives birth while apprehending the villain and then later on, rather than find a sitter to take care of her baby, brings it with her to keep fighting crime! I know what you’re thinking. It’s a movie for kids, you’re not supposed to look too much into it but the movie itself points out how lousy a mother she is by risking her child’s life!

Part of this series’ appeal - part of any spy film’s appeal - are the gadgets. The arsenal of devices our heroes receive is pathetic, but they’re golden compared to their talking cybo-pooch. Ricky Gervais is NEVER funny, though I bet he’s laughing all the way to the bank with this phoned-in performance. His line delivery is lame and the special effects used to make the dog “talk” are embarassing.

There are a couple of twists along the way, most of which you’ll be able to decipher just by looking at the characters’ faces. And then, there's a glimmer of hope right at the end. When we learn the villain’s motivation for all this, it actually makes sense. We have a credible bad guy - FINALLY. Too bad that if you take a step back and think about the plot, you realize the whole thing would've gone the way it does even if the heroes hadn't interfered in his plan. They’re completely useless and the only reason it doesn’t seem that way is because the movie cheats its own time travel rules.

Spy Kids: All the Time in the World gets so much wrong it’s kind of fun to tear it apart but only after the fact. The non-stop flow of horrible jokes and repetitive dialogue makes it painful to sit through. By introducing such concepts as the “spy baby”, it seals the deal. This franchise is done. It’s completely run out of ideas - or at least you hope so. After this, no one would want to see another Spy Kids movie again. (2-D Version, September 25, 2020)

[bemusedlybespectacled]

I'm actually still, as the kids say, Big Mad™ about that really awful New York Times article about marriage, and I'd been meaning to make a post on this anyway for a while, so, based solely on my own experiences in my own relationships, here's my pithy bit of relationship wisdom:

Relationships take work, but they should not feel like work.

When I say "work," I'm thinking of a bunch of things that we do for each other that technically require effort, but the effort is minimal compared to wanting to make the other person's life easier and for them to be happy.

I like heist films and shows. My partner doesn't - he gets bad secondhand embarrassment. I spoil the plot for him to let him know what will happen, and I'm not offended if he pulls out headphones and plays Dark Souls on his laptop so his attention isn't solely on the movie. Both sitting through something you don't love and explaining what's going to happen are technically work – like, they're something you have to do instead of doing nothing – but it's not a big deal.

When one of us is working or watching something or on our computers, we can always interrupt the other (knowing that, if it can't be interrupted, we'll tell each other and it's no big deal). It takes effort for me to disengage from a movie to help him season chicken without getting his chicken-y hands all over the pepper shaker, and it takes effort for him to put away his video game to help me get stuff off a high shelf, but we do it, because it's not a big deal.

Most of the time, for long car trips, he drives, because I get nervous driving. But recently I drove the six-hour round trip to a family thing because he had driven to a different family thing the week before and was sick of driving and wanted to be able to nap in the car. We're both putting in the effort of driving each other, but it's not a big deal.

I hate physical chores and avoid them whenever possible, but I am good at planning and making lists and identifying problems. He prefers doing the actual physical stuff but gets nervous about messing something up if he's not following specific directions.

Writing out a long description of how to do the laundry (like, "all of the dark clothes need to be washed in cold water, gentle cycle, with enough liquid laundry soap that it comes up to the 1 line on the cap, and then hung on the drying rack instead of being put in the dryer") is work. Actually doing the laundry is also work. Planning meals for the week and then working out what groceries we need for those meals and making a list and then sorting that list out by store and specific aisle is work. Carrying the groceries up two flights of stairs to our apartment and putting them away is also work. This is literally how we divide up almost all of our chores. We do these things for each other because they make each other's lives easier.

Like... at no point does it feel like a grand sacrifice. There's no "oh god, there he goes, asking me to emulsify a sauce for him again. Oh well, I must Suffer™ because that's what love is." I cannot describe how absolutely mundane it feels. It just doesn't even register as effort.

I think that those things feeling like a grand sacrifice is what breeds resentment. It's not sustainable to feel like you're martyring yourself every day just to tolerate someone else's presence. Love doesn't mean heroically ignoring your own suffering forever.

And writing off a potential problem with "well, your partner is just an unfathomable mystery and inherently flawed, so nothing will change" or "that's how marriage works! love is a choice!" is really not helpful at all.

[dreamsclock]

I had a dream where after escaping from prison Dream stopped to help the local post office recover from all the crossfire and brought them coffee helped them get the buffest most stat-perfect mail horses. Everything continued as usual except theres a post office with super strong horses who all think that despite the war crimes Dream is a pretty swell guy

this was such a funny ask to receive and i had to write something for it 😭 this is an au where loads and loads of people live in the smp !! tag for this au if i write more will be > au: smpost office

He’s such a nice man,” the workers whisper to each other as Dream leaves, arms now empty of the packages of cookies he’d brought for them, “really don’t know why he gets such a bad rep.”

Sure, he’d done a couple of not-so-great things. Blown up the houses of those living in L’Manburg, caused a few delays to postal services thanks to wars. But really, employees at the DSMPost weren’t about to start holding grudges. Not when he brought them such lovely gifts. They’re overworked and underpaid as it is: they’ll gladly take the help he offers.

Dream — former leader of the SMP, potentially former (or current) villain, recent former prisoner on the run — visits their post office every three to five business days.

“I don’t wanna show up too often,” he says one day, in that half-self conscious way of his, “I don’t want, like… people to realize I have a pattern of coming here. Or to think you guys are like, secretly working for me.”

“We literally would work for you,” Anya tells him very earnestly, absently petting one of the twelve horses Dream had gifted them, “you give us way better treatment than the boss.”

“You have a boss?” Dream asks, bemused. “Who?”

There are a few collective murmurs, before Ines, ever bold, says, “Well, technically Awesamdude. But it’s been a while since he dropped by, and he’s kind of a shitty boss, so… Mostly we just let Patches choose what we do now.”

If Dream falters at the mention of his former jailer, nobody is rude enough to bring it up. “Patches. Who’s Patches?”

There’s a meow from the corner. When Dream turns to look, there’s a tiny cat sitting proudly on a stool in the corner, angrily pawing at an empty food bowl. His heart melts.

“You know,” he says, “you could form a union.”

(Twelve hundred blocks away, Sam wakes up in a cold sweat.)

—

Dream is a fast favorite of the SMPost. They turn a blind eye to a lot of things, like whenever they find him sleeping in a corner with Patches standing over him fiercely to protect him, or when he decks them all out secretly with netherite (“just in case,” he warns, “I don’t want you to get hurt”). And hey, if sometimes one of them shows up early for a shift and finds him rummaging through the post and replacing Sapnap’s letters to Quackity with live wriggling scorpions, they don’t get paid enough to stop him.

All in all, he’s polite, he’s helpful, and he gives them presents.

…And the offer of a union. What’s not to like?

“What’s not to like?” Eryn repeats, bewildered. “Isn’t he, like, an insane man?”

The rest of the SMPost shrugs, shifts. “I mean,” Tim says, “he’s pretty cool to us. Never hurt me before.”

“He brought a birthday cake for my kid,” one worker chips in, a bright smile on their face, “baked it himself. It tasted awful, but it’s the thought that counts. He passed out for fourteen hours after that.”

Yousaf points to the cookies in Eryn’s hands. “Made those, too. He’s way better at cookie-making than cake-baking. Brings them over every week for us whenever we run out.”

Staring between his fellow employees and the admittedly delicious cookies in his hands, Eryn decides he doesn’t get paid enough as a minimum-wage worker to report Dream to anyone. The guy seems fine, and hey, maybe he can even convince Tommy to join the SMPost. Seeing Dream might shock him into being his old self again.

“Fair enough,” Eryn says, “but when he comes back in, I’m asking him for a horse of my own.”

[husbandohunter]

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

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

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

[frostedfaves]

Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

-

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you. 

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

-

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled. 

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.” 

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” 

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest. 

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

-

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again. 

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

-

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

-

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

-

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

-

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy. 

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

-

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